16. Revelations

Gears. Lux had witnessed such precise machining only once before - years ago, when a sea captain had shown him a clockwork chronometer. What he saw now was that device writ large. Lining a chasm below him were thousands of interlocking gears whirring ferociously in undulating waves of brass. Some were no larger than his fingernail while others, attached to water-driven turbines, had teeth the size of his body.

The sole means of passage across the turbulence was a rusted metal gantry and, beyond, another door.

“A machine,” Johannes breathed, pronouncing the word like he was naming a daemon. “One powered by the combined outflow of the entire city. What could possibly require this much energy?”

The elderly wizard was awestruck. Lux was more concerned with the hazard immediately in front of them. The steel grating that had given the filtration station its purpose had been ripped out to make room for more clockwork. Without it, the only thing separating them from death by endless metal jaws was the dubious hanging bridge.

“I’ll go first,” he said, more bravely than he felt. “We’ll go across one at a time, and tie a rope around each person’s waist. Just in case.”

“Are you sure?” Freija asked nervously. “I don’t think this lab takes safety very seriously.”

“Why are you scared?” Valerios asked Freija, his thick eyebrow raised. “You can become a bird and fly across.”

“I’m a protector of the earth, not the sky,” she huffed. “Blessed Nature has gifted me with many things, but a winged form was not one.”

Despite the ominous creaking of metal, their crossing was tedious but ultimately safe, even when Valerios stepped forwards to bring up the rear. Lux was privately glad; he didn’t relish the idea of having to haul him up if he fell into the crevasse.

“One more defensive measure breached!” Valerios crowed as soon as his boots landed firmly on the far platform. Undaunted, he squeezed past the others to kick open the flimsy metal door with the sound of crashing cymbals.

So much for stealth, thought Lux.

The party crammed into the next room, and were slightly disappointed at what they found. It was scarcely larger than a walk-in wardrobe, further cramped by the overflowing shelves of glassware lining opposite walls. Potion bottles were haphazardly scattered without rhyme nor reason, a well-worn palette of mismatched colours.

Johannes popped a cork at random, sniffed the contents, and quickly replaced it with a grimace. “What mayhem!” he said with dismay, idly spinning the vial in his liver-spotted fingers. “And I’m told that my experiments are too disorganised.”

He searched for an empty spot in the racks, and slotted the one he was holding in beside another red vial. As he did so, Hellebore’s words rose unbidden within Lux’s mind.

It’s a trick.

He spun the wizard around to vigorously shake his hand.

“Thank you, Professor!” he exclaimed.

“You’re very welcome, my boy,” Johannes replied, bemused. He retrieved his captured hand to smooth his moustache. “For what, may I ask?”

Lux swept his gaze across the racks of vials.

“I think this needs a spring clean. Help me sort these bottles.”

The next few minutes were scored by a chorus of clinking glass, like history’s strangest toast. When they were finished, the potions were sorted into a brilliant rainbow. Johannes had insisted they not only arrange the bottles by colour, but then order them by hue.

“It is only logical,” he explained, “given that colour is merely the quantisation of light into a chromatic arcanoform.”

Lux didn’t know about that.

Nevertheless, as soon as the final vial was put into place, the far wall sank into the floor with a low rumble. There was a corridor hidden behind it, just wide enough for single-file passage. It continued for a dozen paces before turning right.

“I think we can just about squeeze in there,” Caela said lightly, stepping forwards into the corridor. Hellebore hooked their hand over her collar and practically dragged her backwards.

“No way,” they said firmly. “Me first.”

They fished in a belt pouch, producing a set of illicit-looking metal tools.

“Surely they wouldn’t put…” Caela began, but Hellebore shook their head.

“Every time we think we’re past the last layer of protection, we end up stumbling into another one. I’ve had enough.”

Dropping onto their belly, they crawled into the tunnel. Their rapt audience watched as they tapped on floor panels, poked steel tools into cracks, and gently brushed for tripwires. Finally, at the right-hand bend, they froze.

“Found it.”

They extended a hand, holding a metal rod perfectly steady. Suddenly, they flicked it upward, rolling back in one synchronised movement. The onlookers heard a faintly musical twang, then the percussion of a dozen missiles thudding into stonework.

Hellebore crawled out of the tunnel, shaking a stray dart from the folds of their cloak.

“It’s safe now.”

Lux let out an impressed whistle, though it was impossible to tell if Hellebore acknowledged the compliment. He ducked into the narrow passageway, crab-walking through the gloom and hoping that his armour wouldn’t get him stuck. At the end of the corridor, he found a thick door, newly studded with a field of steel darts.

Light, and the sounds of activity, filtered through the gap where the door met its frame. Lux pressed his eye to the strip of illumination, peering into the room beyond.

What he saw was a production line in full swing. Two storeys had been carved out of San Aria’s underbelly and paved with flat beige flagstones, presumably by the sewer system’s original architects. Rows of workstations snaked around the room, tables straining under the weight of bubbling cauldrons and precarious glassware.

Each area was manned by one or more green-cloaked figures, wearing the same lurid shade as the ones they’d found in the other labs. The labourers screeched to be heard over the clamour of production, a sound not unlike the chorus of Qitala’s rats, though somehow more irritating.

Above their heads, burly figures patrolled a walkway, with crossbows in their bulging arms and hammers at their belts. Despite being twice the size of the ones on the workshop floor, these figures still squeezed into the same lime uniform, literally bursting through the material in places.

Only one person had forsaken the dress code, opting for a hood of cornflower blue. They slouched on top of a leaking barrel, a pewter mug dangling from one hand. As Lux watched, they leaned down to fill the mug from the barrel’s tap. The mug disappeared underneath their hood, producing dark water marks wherever the rim brushed the fabric.

After a few minutes Lux tore himself away from his peephole. His companions were on tenterhooks, their concerned faces lining the passage entrance.

Half-hidden in shadow, he placed a single finger to his lips.

“Stick to your buddies,” he whispered, beckoning Freija to join him. Cracking the joints on one hand, she squeezed up to his back as he returned to the door. Johannes and Valerios followed, the latter slotting himself sideways into the corridor like a coin into an offering box.

Lux pressed on the door as lightly as a feather. Silently, it swung open on well-oiled hinges. Behind him, Freija whispered something in Elvish. It sounded like a prayer.

Lux didn’t waste any time checking whether they’d been spotted. As soon as the crack was wide enough, he slipped through and lunged for the cover of a nearby cauldron. He pressed his back to the cast iron, feeling the heat bleed through his breastplate as a tiny blue mouse scurried up and onto his shoulder.

“This way,” whispered Freija, tugging on Lux’s left ear with her tiny paws. He peeled himself away from the cauldron and began making his way around the spiral of workstations. He ducked under one table as a pair of alchemists stumbled past under the weight of another dripping barrel.

“Oi!” Blue Hood called, as the pair were almost bowled over during a sharp turn. He took another slurp from his mug. “If you crack that open, the Master’ll turn your spines to worms.”

“Im-portant?” one of the green hoods croaked.

Blue Hood slowly turned his head in the direction of the one that had spoken.

“You questioning the Master?”

The green hoods squeaked in distress and hastened to lift their cargo once again. Blue Hood leaned back, the moment of menace fading as quickly as it had arrived.

“S’ all important,” he announced to no-one in particular. “Now bring that barrel over here. This one’s almost tapped dry.”

Lux released his held breath and ventured a peek over the worktop. He saw Johannes sneaking along the opposite wall while, wraithlike, Caela and Mene slipped into the room as well. Hellebore and Rose still lingered in the doorway, waiting for their moment to follow.

Catching up to his subconscious headcount, his stomach lurched as he realised the Buddy System had already gone awry. His frantic eyes sought out Valerios. The paladin was making no effort to conceal himself, forging through the clutter with his sword already drawn. By the time the alchemists had registered his presence, he was already most of the way through the room. Blue Hood’s feet didn’t even touch the ground as Valerios hauled him off the barrel by the collar.

“Where is your ‘Master’?” he barked. “Tell me, and I promise your execution will be a fair one.”

He poked his captive in the belly with the point of his scimitar. With an unsettling lack of concern, Blue Hood wrapped his fingers around the blade.

“You’re in no position to promise anything, interloper,” he laughed, as Valerios, sensing trouble, tried in vain to pull his sword free from the man’s grasp.

“How about… I show you something amazing, and you promise to grovel, ok?”

Valerios’ grip widened as the neck under his fingers suddenly grew in size. Blue Hood’s limbs and chest burst through the once-loose robe, turning it into a tattered cape. His feet - blue and inhuman - slammed onto the ground, and it was Valerios’s turn to be dwarfed.

Blue Hood lowered the scrap of fabric over his head with one clawed hand, revealing an inhuman visage twisted in a demonic grin. A pair of bulging yellow eyes glittered atop a mouthful of crooked fangs. Ratty strands of white hair hung around the cruel face, the frame to a terrifying portrait.

He dropped his mug with a hollow clatter. His eyes scanned the room, taking in first the open door, then the poorly-hidden Johannes, and then finally Lux.

“Take them alive. The Master’ll give us a nice reward if they’re still squirming when they get to him.”

There was a beat of silence before the room was thrown into utter chaos.

Stealth abandoned, Lux’s friends burst forth from their hiding places and were immediately set upon by the green hoods. Valerios raised his shield to block a volley of bolts from the crossbowmen, but was caught in a clawing tackle from Blue Hood.

Caela nocked an arrow and returned fire at the walkway guards, catching one in the shoulder. Three of their number leapt over the railing and began clambering down the heaving scaffolding as their allies provided covering fire.

The hail of bolts was soon drawn to Mene, who streaked through the melee like a grey blur and began winding up a spiral staircase to the rafters. Caela’s fingers hardly left her quiver as she fought to keep the snipers from drawing a bead on her companion. One bolt hit its mark, disappearing into Mene’s hind leg. The wolf didn’t even yelp as he continued his ascent, twisting around the corners as if he were made from rubber.

Caela held her next shot for a moment, focusing before releasing the raven feathers. One of the crossbowmen ducked his head, but the arrow pierced his still-raised crossbow, pinning it to his trigger hand. The figure barely had a chance to scream before Mene was upon him.

The remaining guards dropped from the scaffolding and drew their hammers, advancing on Lux. He blocked one wild strike, the impact sending stars into his vision. Dazed, he recalled those sweltering days training with Rose.

That steel around your body and in your hand will stop a dagger, but it’s no good against my punches. This time, don’t block them - dodge. Let’s go again.

The next brute raised his hammer to club Lux in the head. He quick-stepped, just as he’d been taught, allowing the heavy blow to fall where he’d once stood. These hammers, he realised, were nothing like Rose’s sparring strikes.

They were much less dangerous.

Freija leapt off his shoulder and, in a flash, scurried up the inside of one of their robes. The unfortunate grunt began flailing at his own body, beating at a bulge under his clothing before toppling over like a felled tree. A cerulean badger burst through the cloak’s chestpiece, its mouth dripping red as it looked at Lux with something approaching frustration.

“Lux, honey, love the moves. But I’m begging you to stop wasting time and kill something, okay?”

It wasn’t as easy as she made it sound. Lux hadn’t minded fighting the mutated wolf or the aberration in the basement, but this was different. Killing a person would make him just like…

Beyond the approaching guards, Valerios was still grappling with the alchemists’ monstrous leader while Johannes desperately traced lines into his orb. Blue Hood spotted the wizard and broke away from Valerios to descend upon him, claws flashing.

“I won’t give you the chance, trickster!” the fiend snarled. Johannes scrambled away, the relentless assault preventing him from doing anything but try to escape.

Storming forward, Valerios drew a hand axe and threw it into Blue Hood’s back. The creature roared in pain as the paladin set himself like a brick wall in front of Johannes, its claws beating against Valerios’ shield in a frenzy.

Rose and Hellebore were wading to the rescue through a horde of stubby alchemists, tossing them like ragdolls and painting their green robes red. Still, they were too far away to help against the grunts’ leader.

Lux set his stance. No. This wasn’t like the murders that had set him on this path. This time, he had people to protect.

As a hammer smashed into his side, Lux let it launch him out of the corner. The thug turned too slowly to stop Lux from cutting him down. His partner stepped over the body, raising his heavy hand, and Lux was struck by how clear the opening was, compared to his training. He ran the final guard through, then turned, letting the slumping figure slide off his blade.

An arrow-filled body tumbled off the walkway, crashing down beside Valerios. The paladin wasn’t even fighting back, just barely keeping his shield in front of the musclebound demon.

“What are you waiting for, interloper?” Blue Hood snarled, sending another shuddering impact down Valerios’ arm.

“I believe… that he is waiting for me.”

Johannes’ strained voice came from behind the shield.

“I am ready, Mr Valerios.”

Valerios shoved at his attacker, driving Blue Hood back. He swung his shield up, revealing the wizard concealed behind it. In Johannes’ palm was a familiar ball of incandescent energy.

Blue Hood opened his black-lipped mouth, but his protest was swallowed in a fiery explosion. When the smoke cleared, Blue Hood lay motionless atop the splinters of his barrel, the sharp-smelling contents pooling about him.

As the dust settled, the party reunited by the fiend’s body. Freija popped back into her two-legged form, looking considerably more battered than she had earlier.

“I don’t think I like being kicked,” she said to Rose, prodding a bruise on her exposed belly. “I’ll let you do that.”

Catching her appearance in the reflection of the puddle, she used a pinky finger to wipe the blood from her split lip. “Besides,” she continued, less nonchalantly, “I don’t have many more forms left.”

“I’ve got your back, buddy,” Lux replied, receiving a sceptical look in return.

He looked around the body-strewn hall. He didn’t see any red-stamped crate, and doubted such a large item could be hidden away easily. But it had to be somewhere.

He looked back at the wall that Blue Hood had been guarding, the ornamental archway built into the stones.

Hellebore’s blank mask was tilted towards him expectantly. Catching their hint, he fished the eyepatch from where he’d stashed it in his armour, and put his eye to the rune-patterned fabric. He blinked, as his right eye adjusted to see an entirely different world to his left. Through the eyepatch, the world had no shadows, no glowing light sources - just the warehouse in flat grey tones.

There was one other change: each of the archway’s plain tiles held an alien glyph.

While the others watched out for reinforcements, Lux copied the symbols down on a singed piece of parchment. Johannes recognised the language as soon as the first letter was complete.

“Aha! Gnomish, I do believe. The language of the late Master Vozloc.”

“And these people, I bet,” Caela called, pulling off one of the smaller alchemists’ hoods. They were indeed a gnome, if their stocky stature and cherubic face were any indication. Their plain appearance was somehow more disturbing than Blue Hood’s hulking silhouette.

“My Gnomish is still rudimentary, but I believe it refers to a hidden passage,” Johannes continued, tapping on the wall. “Apparently one of the concoctions in this room is the key to this door. However, only a master alchemist would be able to perform the necessary tests to deduce which one.”

He puffed out his chest, toying with the cuff of his faded shirt. “I suppose that I had better get to work…”

Valerios strode past him.

“No need, venerable companion,” he rumbled, placing his massive hands under a bench still laden with bottles. “I have a quicker way.”

Valerios’ face turned red as he heaved up the table, holding it on one hand like a serving tray. The others dove out of the way as he launched the laden table at the archway. There was a thunderous crash, and the wall was consumed in a sparking cloud of smoke as the potions smashed and mixed together.

The indoor fireworks continued for some time before the fog finally dissipated. Behind it, the archway had melted away like butter under a hot knife.

Valerios panted, retrieving his sword and shield. “It was one of those,” he said smugly.

Johannes opened and closed his mouth several times, before shrugging and retrieving his own gear. “I suppose it saves me the effort,” he admitted dryly. “Like Miss Freija, I’m running low on magic.”

The eight investigators lined up side by side in the archway. Nodding to each other, they set off into the gloom.

17. Time After Time >>