The Twilight City Page 16

  Malek leaned back, studying the exposed rafters overhead. “Well, that Magehunter said something about my master being taken to a ‘mana factory,’ but I’m not familiar with such a place.”

  “That could prove to be a tad difficult to get into. Even with the key I acquired, assuming it unlocks the right door, it’s bound to be heavily guarded. But first, we have to find the cursed place.”

  “Find it? You don’t know where it is? What is the purpose of such a place?”

  Nera shrugged. “I’m not privy to information about that. Seems to be a closely guarded secret. I just know canisters of mana are brought to the foundry from somewhere. There’s rumor about some factory where the mana is produced. Makes sense—it’s got to come from somewhere. It’s my job—was my job—to load the mana into the furnace. Whatever magical reaction occurs inside that furnace becomes the source of the city’s power.”

  As Malek speculated about the mana factory, an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind grew worse. He couldn’t help imagining some form of brutal prison-labor arrangement.

  Nera abruptly changed the subject. “You ever seen plumbing before?”

  “Plumbing? What’s that?”

  “Oh you’re gonna love this.” She stood up and grabbed his arm, pulling him eagerly toward a back room. “I made sure to ask Zita for one of the well-equipped safe houses.”

  Nera lit another candle and led him into a tiny back room dominated by a large copper bathtub. A metal spigot stuck out of the wall over the tub. Nera turned a circular handle, which caused a noisy rattle to emit from the wall. Water poured out of the spigot, and a moment later, steam rose from the tub as it filled.

  Malek dipped his hand in the stream of scalding water and pulled it back with a quiet yelp. “How is it heated? Is there a hot spring it’s pumped from?”

  “Magic, my friend,” Nera said mysteriously. “All those magelights throughout the city and hot water for those well-heeled nobles and merchants are powered by the foundry.” She sat on a wooden stool and began unlacing her soft leather boots.

  “Nexus is fascinating.” Malek rested his hands on the edge of the tub, watching as it filled past halfway, steam filling the small room.

  Nera tossed her boots away and peeled off her leather jerkin, revealing a clingy undershirt that left little to the imagination. She turned away, dipping a hand in the scalding water, unaffected by the heat. Malek noticed a number of recent welts and old scars marring the bronze skin on her upper back and shoulder blades, revealed by her scant shirt.

  “You planning on joining me?” Nera asked in amusement, one eyebrow cocked. “If not, then out with you. I’d like to enjoy my hot bath.” She waved her hands, shooing him away.

  Realizing he was staring, Malek stammered an apology as he backed away. His heel caught the edge of the stool, and he stumbled, nearly going down, were it not for Nera snatching a handful of his robes to prevent his fall. The lean muscles in her arms corded as she kept him from falling, but Malek’s weight pulled her forward until the two of them ended up bumping against the wall.

  Malek’s eyes widened at the sudden closeness of Nera pressed against him, very conscious of the fact she was wearing very little. An unnatural heat radiated off her body, and he was fully aware of her exotic beauty. Her eyes were wide as well, surprise breaking through the facade of cocky control she kept up.

  “I, uh, better let you get to your bath.” Malek slid away and quickly retreated out the door. He felt embarrassed, unnerved, yet attracted to her all at the same time.

  He plopped back down on the sofa and was glad when Arron returned with his cask of ale and food a short time later. Malek found he didn’t have a problem drinking the strong ale this time. Before he knew it, he was gulping down a cup.

  ***

  Nera settled into the scalding water of the tub. She was amused at Malek’s nervousness around her, being used to that reaction due to her heritage, but a small part of her was disappointed that he had retreated. Fooling around with the mage might have been fun.

  When the water reached her chin, Nera closed her eyes and relaxed, feeling the heat of the water soaking into her muscles.

  Feels odd to be free of that damned collar. What will Arron and I do now? We should see Malek through to the end of his quest as long as his clink is good. The thought of helping him even if he ran out of coin briefly crossed her mind, but she pushed it away. Nay, that one could lead to trouble, messing with the Magehunters and all. Just need to get enough clink outta him to make a getaway and a fresh start off plane.

  Her eyes popped back open, and she realized she had nearly nodded off. The water had cooled a bit but was still hot enough to be satisfying. She scrubbed herself, pausing when the fresh scar on her flat stomach drew her attention. She recalled the stab of pain as the Magehunter’s blade slid into her abdomen, the agony as her guts were rent apart. Everything was hazy after that, save for the feeling of her body going cold on the cobblestones as the life leached out of her. There had been a crackling like lightning and blast of wind. And Malek had been in the midst of the magical tempest, kneeling over her, concern on his kind face.

  What did you do to me, mage?

  Her whole body had grown warm from whatever magic he cast on her, feeling as if boiling water was poured into her wound until she must have passed out, for the next thing she remembered was waking up in the temple after that terrible dream.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the warmth soaking into her bones. Not normally so reflective, she pushed the thoughts aside.

  Whatever had happened, she’d survived another day, and that was what was important. They’d have to worry about the consequences tomorrow. She drifted off to sleep, content for the time to just be alive and free of her collar.

  Chapter 20

  Idrimel and Athyzon located the City Works office at the end of a long hall within the city administration building. The door was open, so the two of them strode inside the dim, cluttered room. A candle guttered on the front desk, sending a plume of white smoke into the air. Nobody was in sight.

  Bookshelves full of tomes and scrolls lined the room, extending back into the darkness. Diagrams and maps were spread out on a table behind the desk. The sound of arguing voices reached their ears from somewhere deep in the room.

  “Master Flent wants the schematics for the third sublevel, you fool.”

  “Nay, that’s not what he said. You only provided the first and second, and now he requires the third sublevel and every sublevel below it, which would be through the tenth!”

  “Bah! How can he expect me to get him all these documents on such short notice?”

  “Short notice? The request was put in two days ago! You heard about the beast that attacked the Magelight Market, didn’t you? Well, if we want to prevent things like this from happening, we need to make some repairs. And to make those repairs, the chief engineer requires those documents. So get off your lazy arse and fetch them, man! If you’ve got a problem with that, then I suggest you speak with the chamberlain.”

  Idrimel winced at the curse that spewed from the other’s mouth. Athyzon stepped forward and banged his gauntleted fist down on the desk, sending a loud boom resounding through the room.

  “We don’t have time to listen to these fools bicker. The sooner we are out of this place, the better,” the paladin said.

  The shuffling of footsteps preceded a long-nosed, surly-looking man, who came out of the back room holding a lantern. He eyed the siblings as if they were dung tracked into his domain by the tread of a boot. His face was flushed with anger.

  “What do you want? Come banging into a man’s workspace like this?” He scowled.

  “We are tasked to investigate the cause behind an Abyssal portal that spawned on Ellorya three days ago,” Idrimel said calmly, in the face of the man’s ire. “This portal was unsanctioned and at an undesignated location.”

  “So put your name on the list.” The man stabbed his finger a
t a ledger on the counter. “I’ll be with you as soon as I finish with this one.” He nodded in irritation toward an elderly dwarf who approached the front counter from the back room.

  “Abyssal portal, you say?” The dwarf looked worried. “Oh dear, it’s happening all over.”

  “What is?” Idrimel asked.

  The dwarf sighed as he looked from Idrimel to Athyzon and back. “Flurbinger and I suspected this might happen. The Machine powering Nexus is somehow out of alignment. A portal opened in the market a couple nights ago, and some nasty creature attempted to come through. Luckily, it was prevented, and nobody was injured. But if we can’t find a way to get it fixed, the risk of random portal events increases dramatically.”

  “So we could see more of these portals opening, like the Abyssal one we encountered?” Athyzon asked. He exchanged a glance with Idrimel.

  The dwarf nodded. “And others closing or relocating, cutting off trade and commerce. The worst would be if the lower-planar creatures get unleashed onto the other planes, like this one you encountered.”

  “By Sol, that can’t happen.” Idrimel looked at her brother and back at the dwarf. “What must be done to fix this Machine?”

  “That’s the problem. We don’t have a solution right now.” The dwarf rubbed his balding head. He looked exhausted. “I’m about to bring Flurbinger the rest of the schematics so we can put our heads together, but honestly, I think it’s in the hands of the gods. They are the ones that had Nexus built—how can mere mortals hope to recreate their brilliance?” He shrugged.

  “Fortunately, Sol has seen fit to send my brother and I here to aid you, Master Dwarf,” Idrimel replied with conviction. “We are here to offer our services. Merely tell us what must be done.”

  “Hmph. You don’t look like engineers or wizards, but perhaps Flurbinger knows what to do with you.” Despite his words, he appeared heartened by Idrimel’s offer of assistance. He stuck out a hand. “Dontarius Boltbasher at your service.”

  Idrimel and Athyzon introduced themselves in turn.

  Dontarius looked back to find the surly man watching them with a scowl. “Why are you lallygagging about, man? Get those schematics.”

  The man shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but he shuffled off toward the back of the office once again.

  “I wouldn’t mind stringing that churlish bastard up in front of the next one of these random portals that spawns,” the dwarf muttered under his breath. “Mayhap he’d be more cooperative then.” He turned back to the siblings. “Flurbinger may wish to speak with you. I’ll let him know you offered your aid. I daresay he’s in one of his moods today, so it may be best if you find a place to stay, and we’ll get a message to you.”

  “Fair enough,” Athyzon said. “You may leave a message at the Temple of Sol if you wish to contact us. In the meantime, we shall look around on our own.”

  “Welcome to the Nexus of the Planes, friends. Enjoy your stay.”

  Idrimel and Athyzon returned outside into the perpetual twilight of the city. The nearest chroniker mast showed the time to be midmorning.

  “There is an ill feel about this city, Brother.” Idrimel adjusted her tabard uncomfortably. “Any place which forever lies beyond the light of Sol, I care not for.”

  Athyzon clapped his sister on the back. “Aye, I know what you are thinking. Let us return to the temple. The less savory elements will not be felt from within the blessed walls. A good meal would do well, also.”

  Idrimel smiled wanly and nodded. As they crossed the courtyard, she glanced over her shoulder and studied the multilayer fortress that seemed to curve up and away behind the city administration complex. The ancient ramparts seemed blackened, as if a great fire had raged there centuries prior. The great keep at the top was bathed in a queer greenish light that unsettled the priestess as she stared at it. It’s as if some dark power watches us.

  An even darker presence drew her attention away with its sense of wrongness. Her stomach clenched in revulsion at the feeling of evil.

  “Idrimel!”

  She turned just in time to find herself face to face with the source of her unease. She was struck by its overpowering sense of wickedness just as she bumped shoulders with the creature. Idrimel staggered back, eyes wide in shock. Glittering black eyes peered from the cowled sand-colored robe the creature wore.

  “Ssss… Watch your step, foolish Solite,” the creature hissed in anger. Its forehead was misshapen with bony protrusions, and a long forked gray tongue darted between its teeth. It raised a hand, revealing pale skin and three-inch-long nails the color of pitch.

  Fearing it was about to use some fell magic on her, Idrimel held up her holy symbol and quickly uttered a protection spell. Golden light shone from her holy symbol, washing over the creature. It reared back with an angry inhuman screech. Idrimel’s glowing aura fell away from the creature as it raised its hands. She clutched the haft of her mace instinctively.

  A strong hand clamped down on her arm and pulled her away. “Step away, fiend,” Athyzon ordered, interposing himself between his sister and the creature. His hand hovered over the hilt of his greatsword across his back.

  The creature eyed the two of them with naked contempt. “Two plane-blessed fools, lost in the shadows without the light of Sol to shine on them. Mind your path. The Pale Lord does not tolerate the truce being broken in his city.” It spat on the ground and turned aside, heading off to its original destination.

  Idrimel’s heart raced as she watched the creature walk away. Its stride was odd, as if its joints were hinged differently. Her gaze was drawn to the creature’s spittle upon the cobblestones, where it sizzled and bubbled.

  “Come, Sister,” Athyzon said gently, turning her away. “You must take care not to antagonize the dark ones here. That fiend spoke truly—the Pale Lord is a harsh enforcer of the peace here. It matters not whom we serve. Punishment would be meted out evenly if we broke the truce.”

  She shuddered, for the fiend had been much more powerful than the lesser demons she had encountered in Ellorya, her only prior exposure to the evil creatures. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was walking.” She was not used to the strangeness of Nexus. Her whole life had been spent in the beautiful sunshine of Ellorya. “I just can’t help feeling watched all the time… and the lack of the pure light… It unnerves me, Brother.”

  “And I as well. Let us return to the temple.”

  As they did, Idrimel couldn’t help feeling that the creature in the sand-colored robes was on an errand to work some dark mischief.

  ***

  Waresh stomped up to the desk and glared at the clerk, Edmond.

  “Ah, Hammerhelm. Just in time. I’ve got another assignment for you.” Edmond held up a finger as he scanned the ledger.

  “Aye, I’m here. What is it this time? Ye sending me off to the Abyss to roast me beard or to the icy planes to freeze me arse off this time?” Waresh had been roused from bed when the collar tingled against his skin, indicating a summons from the Special Judiciary. His vague plans for the day hadn’t progressed beyond the idea of getting roaring drunk at some point—that was, until he found himself facing the condescending bastard Edmond and another retrieval.

  “Neither, actually,” Edmond said brightly. He smiled, unfazed by Waresh’s scowl. “You’ll get to stay right here in Nexus. If your latest quarry doesn’t plane hop, that is. Bring them in quick, you might even be able to get your fill of ale and a wench for the night.”

  Waresh snorted. “Aye, I’d like to see such an easy retrieval for once. Give me the details, then.”

  The clerk frowned. “Hmm… not just one, but two miscreants have managed to slip their collars. There’s a lot of that going around lately, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Just give me the details. The sooner I’m on me way, the sooner I can fill me belly with ale afterward.”

  “Indeed, that’s the spirit, friend. Male half-elf by the name of Arron and plane-cursed female by the
name of Neratiri. They are apparently acquaintances, claiming to be brother and sister. Not sure how that works, though.” He rolled his eyes. “Serving their sentences at the foundry, their collars went dark yesterday, and they haven’t reported for their shifts. They are known to frequent the slums and may be members of one of the thief guilds.”

  Waresh grunted. “Which means they know the city well and won’t be easy to flush out.”

  “The good news is that they are worth two gold… apiece.” Edmond grinned smugly.

  Waresh whistled. “Someone must want them bad, for such a bounty.”

  “Indeed. Best get to it…”

  “Aye. Time to go shake down a few guilds, I reckon.” He could already picture a fine night ahead spent drinking and whoring.

  “If you successfully complete this retrieval, you’ll have, ah…” He flipped through the pages of a tome on his desk.

  “One hundred ninety-eight.”

  “Right. One hundred ninety-eight remaining,” Edmond said brightly. “Off you go, then.”

  Waresh fought down a strong urge to smash the flippant clerk’s face with his fist, but the promise of four gold crowns lightened his mood considerably. He growled an insult in Dwarven and stalked out.

  On the way out the door, someone barged into him, knocking him into the doorframe. As stout as he was, Waresh was difficult to dislodge, but the scarred brute sneering down at him didn’t surprise him. He was thickly muscled for a human—Waresh heard he was originally from some barbarian tribe on one of the Prime planes. He was a walking mass of scar tissue, from his face and head to his burly arms. He could wield a pair of single-bladed axes as easily as hatchets in each of his thick hands.