The exterior of the cave remained as they left it; clumps of fallen snow marring the boot print pathways from the entrance and towards the imprints of the tech sleds. Lapis half-expected the khentauree to have nosed about, but she saw no hint that the mechanical beings had set foot outside the tunnels. Still, she double-checked the slits she made in her heavy coat sleeves, to allow her gauntlets to function properly. She preferred them to the dingy grey tech weapon slung over her shoulder.
She reminded Lorcan she had no idea how to use the thing. He shrugged and told her to snug it against her shoulder, press the catch button, point, and hold the trigger down. Maybe move it back and forth. Patch’s smirk did not encourage her, and he appeared excited to have one as well—though he hid his enthusiasm. Little boy squeals of delight did not impress most serious adults.
Only Chiddle refused to carry one, and Lorcan, admitting the lost cause, did not push.
Their group untied their snowshoes and strapped them to their packs in silence. They tipped their fuzzy hoods back, but everyone kept their neck warmers pulled over their mouths and noses. Lapis edged it up to cover her ears as well; they felt like ice cubes and ached from the cold.
Patch jerked his chin at Dagby and they entered first, their tech lights on but dim. She had time to hold her breath before they yelled the all-clear. Brander patted her shoulder, amused, and followed the two men. The rest of them trailed him, though Vory and the Black Hats eyed the environment with suspicion.
The blown wall had no obstruction, which she found odd. Unwanted visitors came into the khentauree midst, and they did nothing to prevent further infiltration? The Ambercaast group behaved much differently, though Jhor might have had a hand in that. Or not. The personalities of the mechanical beings seemed set long before he traveled to the mines.
Other than the previously fallen railing, the stairs and the corridor into the first room were also clear. Caitria made a point of shining her light at the left-hand tunnel that led to the huge khentauree; no blockage, either, at least on this side. Lapis did not want to traipse down to find out if the mechanical beings barricaded or trapped it, and she definitely did not want to experience the roar again.
She glanced at the Abastion rebel, but her dead-eyed seriousness continued to darken her expression. She had returned to the commons room late the night before, sniffling with tears and refusing to speak to anyone other than Mairin. By morning, her normal cheerfulness had snuffed out, replaced by weary bleakness. Lapis suspected her anguish focused on Ty, and she wanted to discuss it with her, ask if she was OK, and then ask if Rin needed more protection from him. She did not want him to face repercussions because he refused to suffer under a local boy’s need for retaliation.
She turned to her partner, needing to say something to him about her concerns, and realized he and Chiddle stared at the right-hand tunnel. A prickle coursed up her back. What did they sense she did not? Brander, Mairin, and Linz tensed, and Vory and the four Black Hats raised their tech weapons, ready to fire.
Chiddle buzzed. “I hear the khentauree,” he said.
They all looked at him. “There’s something on the frequencies that Jhor told me Gedaavik used,” Patch said. “It sounds like static.”
“No. It is khentauree speech.”
“What are they saying?” Lapis asked.
“It is strange talk. Religious talk.” Raspy annoyance coated his words. “Gedaavik told us of Maphezet Kez. He followed the luck of stars and thought everyone should also worship them because they gifted him a successful corporation. He owned many mines and rivaled empire political leaders in wealth. He did as he pleased, and no one told him no. Except for Gedaavik. He said no when Kez demanded code to compel his khentauree to practice and enforce his religious rites. His employees did not like it and saw it as blasphemous. Kez said he saved souls. Khentauree have no souls to save. Religion is a human thing, not a khentauree thing.”
“I can’t picture Gedaavik as religious,” Lapis admitted.
“No. That is why he wrote a program to let khentauree circumvent human religion and installed it when he could. Human religion is not for khentauree.”
Human religion was not for humans either. She recalled the priests of the Fifth God lighting incense in the Stone Streets to keep the Pit’s stink at bay, while doing nothing to fix the underlying problems causing it. That was worship in Jiy, fake piety to hide deeper corruption.
But the khentauree had their own rites, even if they did not see it that way. The maintained graveyard Sanna led them through at Ambercaast, the concept of going to silence, pointed at some kind of sacred conviction.
“Others were not so kind to khentauree,” Chiddle continued. “Ree Helvasica visited Ambercaast. She knew Gedaavik, and she thought he should make code to force khentauree to give their souls to her gods. Gedaavik thought she abused the khentauree, and he refused to help her. She made nasty threats, but the mine owners ignored her. She left. She must have come here. The khentauree speak of the Ree-god.” He hummed softly. “This may be why Luthier is silent.”
“Do you think the khentauree here carry out a god-worshipping program?” Lapis thought that described what she witnessed on her last visit to the underground place. Did they see the giant khentauree as a priest or a god?
“I don’t know. But I will tell Sanna and she will tell Jhor. Gedaavik must have worked with khentauree here, for they use his frequencies. They should have his circumvention code installed, but Ree Helvasica might have developed a workaround. We know, when others attempted to thwart Gedaavik’s code, it never ended well for khentauree. Except for Jhor’s.”
“Jhor didn’t want to thwart Gedaavik’s code and isn’t interested in harming you.”
“He helps us, works with us. I must speak with them.”
“Can you reach Sanna from here?”
Chiddle cocked his head. “Sanna? Yes. But I must speak with the tera-khent. The Cuddle Bear khentauree. Their voice is loud and overrides the others, but it has a bad buzz to it.”
Bad buzz? What did that mean?
“Do you think they know we’re here?” Caitria asked.
“If they monitor for signals, yes. But they chatter much, so they assume no one else listens.” He hummed, for longer than a human could hold their breath. “Sanna says she will ask Luthier about Ree-god. Jhor says that speaking with the khentauree should not endanger me. They may try to upload code, but they will fail.”
Caitria studied the tunnel, then eyed Chiddle. “We don’t want to lose you, Chiddle. This seems like a danger best avoided.”
“It is no danger. It is help.”
But did they want help? Luthier proved the stubbornness of khentauree when they rejected offers of aid.
“And maybe we can find out about that large tunnel,” Patch said. “The khentauree use it, so it’s probably in better condition than anything that way,” and he waved in the direction the Black Hats had camped. “If that way can get us into the Shivers quicker, we can ask for safe passage. We have lives, human and khentauree, to think about.”
Caitria sucked in a huge breath, then nodded. “Alright. Lapis, Patch, go with Chiddle. Just . . . be careful. These khentauree may not be trustworthy.”
Chiddle buzzed, annoyed, and pivoted before trotting to the tunnel, a blue light issuing from his forehead and lighting the way. Lapis and Patch scrambled to follow.
The entrance to the tera-khent room held no debris or blockage, and no guards stood within. The khentauree must not have thought they would return, and continued as they had—or, perhaps, that was not part of their coding. Not all mechanical beings had Gedaavik’s special software that made them more autonomous.
Chiddle did not hesitate, but trotted to the giant. Lapis glanced at Patch, and he shrugged before taking a guard position to the right, loose and ready for trouble. Lapis mirrored him on the left as the enormous head rose and focused on the smaller khentauree.
Patch’s eyepatch raced with blue lights as a furious conversation buzzed between the two machines. Chiddle grew more agitated and even stomped his foot three times, while the tera-khent’s tone lowered, causing Lapis’s chest to vibrate. She concentrated on breathing and tamped down on her anxiety. Nerves would serve her ill during the confrontation.
The grinding of metal on metal came from the back of the room and a yellow light beam shot across the floor; she turned, watching as the ginormous door slid into the wall, revealing a dozen khentauree clad in the reflective white tunics the previous ones they encountered wore.
She bent her knees, ready to trigger her blades, but hesitated; the new arrivals froze in place, as still as a tomb’s sculpture. The tera-khent’s buzz became higher, louder, an angry bee sound rather than an ultra-fast exchange of words or a deep rumble.
The torso creaked and edged upwards, debris showering down from the stalactites they brushed. Their arms moved out, the hands twirling rapidly enough they resembled drills. Blue blazed from Chiddle’s forehead and a glowing bolt struck the left shoulder, fracturing the metal. Bits burst away and tinkled to the floor, biting into the surrounding mushrooms. The arm shuddered and sagged, the hand thumping to the earth, no longer moving; the Ambercaast khentauree pivoted and pointed to the tunnel, where the door began a momentously slow closing.
The tera-khent roared as they streaked away, Lapis with their hands over their ears. Her being vibrated with the sound, and she fought to keep her feet; Patch fared no better. They slipped inside the door as the horse torso gained its hooves and the giant turned to face them. The speleothems shattered, the stalactites crashing to the floor around them and bombarding the vicinity with huge chunks of material.
“They say he will follow,” Chiddle said. “He is vindictive to those who defy his words.”
“Why’d you shoot him?” Patch gritted while the other khentauree, as one, rose on their hind legs, pirouetted, and raced away.
“He said he would crush you as he crushed rock. I told him he would not. He said Ree-god demanded it.” He stopped just past the destroyed vehicle and pointed to his back. “We must flee fast,” he said.
Patch pushed Lapis up, and she wrapped her arm around Chiddle’s torso before reaching for her partner. He used her as leverage to mount, clutched her waist, and the khentauree took off after the others. She had ridden Path at Ambercaast, but her hooves did not flow as quickly over the cement ground as his; she and Patch could never have kept pace. That he thought of them in a desperate situation warmed her.
The sound of pounding fists on metal echoed down the tunnel. The local khentauree whined, afraid, and Chiddle buzzed at them, even-toned. The cracking of the door reached them, and the locals cried out in terrified clicks and hums. Again, Chiddle buzzed at them, and whatever he told them, they calmed and concentrated on the tunnel in front of them.
They passed diverse vehicles in a similar condition to the one near the entrance; roofs torn off, the bodies smooshed. Heaps of rotting clothing with broken bones sticking out rested against the walls; Lapis’s stomach rolled. If the tera-khent crushed the humans as he had the vehicles, she and Patch were in danger. She had seen Cuddle Bear in action; she knew the damage massive hands could visit on a squishy human body.
The screech of metal being ripped apart reverberated down the tunnel. The heavy slam of big hooves against the floor followed.
The khentauree chattered and hummed in high pitches. Chiddle hissed and buzzed at them, a somber sound compared to their flighty panic.
Lapis gasped and fought to keep her seat as Chiddle surged to the left. Patch slid to the side and squeezed her to stay in place; she tightened her grip to anchor them to his back. The reeling bulk of a destroyed vehicle cartwheeled past them, striking more wreckage and sending them careening down the tunnel. She looked back; the straight corridor gave the tera-khent an unobstructed view of his prey.
His injured shoulder sparked, the limp arm tearing away from the body, but his other remained viable for throwing. While he did not have a long range, he did not need one, since the scrunched metal remains he chucked tumbled like a weed towards his targets.
The smaller khentauree scattered, shrieking.
Patch pulled his small crossbow from the inner pocket of his coat and triggered the unfolding. He thought to shoot at the enormous brute with that? What damage did he expect to accomplish, other than to piss him off more?
He raised the weapon, patch lights whirling in a random pattern, his arm jiggling around to Chiddle’s movement. The tera-khent neared, his eyes gleaming a violent blue as a glowing spot blazed on his forehead.
Twang.
Their pursuer jerked to the side, slamming into the wall and staggering over a vehicle, the glow in his head extinguished. He roared, and Lapis whimpered as her ears rang to the horrifying sound. He grabbed the errant rubble and flung it at them; again, Chiddle dodged the projectile, then gathered himself and leapt over another obstacle that flew at them after colliding with the thrown mass.
Lapis flashed back to the escape, when she and Rin avoided death by crashing Swift because their mount clambered up the side of the craft and down the other as it whirled in a circle. She thought she had drunk the luck of the Four Stars dry, but maybe not?
Glass shattered, and the lights behind them went out. Smaller projectiles hurled their way, some striking the ceiling and destroying the already flickering lighting before careening to the ground. Thin shards bit into her head and tore small slices in her coat. Patch swore and readied his crossbow again.
The local khentauree veered left and raced up a ramp too narrow for the tera-khent to navigate. They reached a rocky lip and headed for an illuminated, open doorway at the end of it.
A vehicle slammed into the stairs; the metal crumbled behind Chiddle’s back legs and he scrambled to keep from plummeting to the ground below. He surged onto the lip as the rotating hand swiped at them, digging deep into the rock. It stuck, making a whining, grinding sound.
Roaring, he jerked his arm to free his appendage, which remained trapped. Unbidden tears fled down Lapis’s cheeks at the pain searing her head.
Patch adjusted his grip on her waist and aimed the crossbow at the head. His first bolt stuck out of the right eye socket, streaks of electricity snaking around the cracked metal. The tera-khent ducked and snagged a crumbled something with his front hoof, kicking it at the lip. It struck the khentauree in front of them, and the poor being careened with the rock to the floor, screaming. The attack created a gap twice Chiddle’s length.
Lapis squeezed the khentauree as tight as she could, gasping for breath as Patch hugged her nearly in two. Chiddle gathered himself and leapt.
