Birthright-The Technomage Archive (28 page)

Ennd's Academy rarely had a security breach. Students, faculty, and visitors were each tagged with unique molecular stamps that told sensors placed in various locations which areas of campus each person had access to. It was a system that worked and rarely malfunctioned. In fact, all simulations showed there being a zero-percent chance of a true security breach.

The administration of Ennd’s Academy had always prided themselves on being able to meld utility and aesthetics. Part of this ambition was maintaining large galleries of artwork throughout each area of the school. Many wings had themes that highlighted various artistic styles and cultures that made up the student population of the Academy.

The artwork was also the first line of defense in the event of a security breach.

The sandstone and steel walls of Phase II shook as the statues that lined its halls came to life. Jackal-headed Annuban golems rose from their thrones and stood roughly twice the height of a person. Their stone axes shimmered as the nanites that made up their structure reassembled themselves from decoration to actual weaponry. Horrith golems awakened, too, and dust fell from the falcon-headed statues, as clawed fingers flexed and wrapped around thick staves that crackled with blue-white electric current. Arcs of energy spiraled up and down the length of the weapons.

Like soldiers forming ranks, the sentries gathered in the center of the hallway as the resuscitation cycle completed. The detail did not speak. They did not interact. Once their initial systems checks were finished, they moved in unison, a single unit with a single goal: secure Ennd’s Academy.

Sensors fed the golems the last known location of their target. The Annuban and Horrith golems’ eyes flashed with power as they synced their directives and moved to intercept and eliminate Damien Vennar.

Chapter Twenty

Ceril, Chuckie, and Saryn’s plans to escape in the morning hadn’t been as easy as they had hoped. They made a few more physical attempts to escape, but those efforts were as unsuccessful as their attempts the night before. Since any actual fighting they did failed, Ceril figured that he might as well fall back on his scholar training—that’s where his heart was, anyway.

If he couldn’t defeat the guards as a solider, maybe he could learn from them as a scholar. So he developed a new plan, one based on his research on Instances.

It worked.

“
The Ancestors left very specific instructions,” said one of the guards.

“
What do the instructions say?” Ceril asked.

“
They tell us to wait for the messiah. Very few still live who can read them, but they are there nonetheless. We trust the priests to interpret them. When we need to know more, we are told.”

“
You’re placing an awful lot of trust in those priests, then.”

“
It is what the Ancestors commanded.”

“
Right,” Ceril said. “But what happened to your Ancestors?” He hoped his comments didn’t sound snarky to the angel in front of him. He was legitimately curious about the history of the place, and he didn’t want that ruined by misinterpreted sarcasm. That is, if the angels could even recognize sarcasm.

“
We…do not know for sure. Much of the Ancestors’ legacy has been lost. We know there was an exodus from Jaronya, and since then, the cities have become ruins. Everywhere you see that is rubble, there once stood a majestic city made of out of crystal. Time transformed it into dull stone, cracked and ignored.”

“
Why ignored? Why didn’t you fix them, keep them maintained?”

“
We have access to very little of the magic the Ancestors used to create their cities. We do not want it, either. We are a simple people, and the priests have interpreted that none of us should seek out the Ancestors, physically or otherwise. They will return to us when we are ready to learn their ways and restore their world. The first step will be the messiah.”

“
But you live here? In this rubble, these ruins?”

“
The Ancestors blessed us with strong homes that would withstand the years. We also have their temples, their workplaces. Those are curated by the priests.”

“
Where are the instructions written?” Ceril asked, returning to an earlier train of thought.

The angel pointed at an obelisk in the distance. “They are written.”

“
What?” Ceril asked. He stood up and tried to see what was written on the obelisk. Without Conjuring to enhance his vision, he couldn’t make out anything on the stone pillar. With his concentration already split, Ceril didn’t bother. “So these instructions the priests read, they’re in public? They’re just sitting around for everyone?”

“
They are not for everyone. They are for the priests.”

“
Really? Because I would think something written on a sign on the side of the road wouldn’t be for the upper-class to read, interpret, and provide as missives. I’d think they were put there for everyone.”

Purple light appeared behind Ceril. The guard slammed his Flameblade onto the broken pillar beside Ceril and said, “You will not question the priests, Charon.”

Ceril leapt back, but he knew he was in no danger. The angel was just making a point. “I’m not questioning them. I mean it. I’m just saying that somewhere down the line, there’s a chance that this bit of information was mishandled. I just don’t understand why the Ancestors would leave behind a system where only a handful of people could read and understand their instructions.”

“
It is not for you to understand. You are an outsider.”

“
I know. I know I am. I just don’t like the idea of an entire caste of people being dominated.”

“
We are not…dominated, as you say. Our people are free, and we look to the priest for guidance. We are not constrained or forced to do anything but live our lives, outsider. We exist to serve the Ancestors, and we await their return.”

“
If you say so,” Ceril said. “How many priests are there? How many of…you are there?” Ceril didn’t actually know what to call the giant purple angel people.

“
There is one priest in the Meshin temple. I do not know about the other temples. They are far, and we do not travel there. The priest has given us the Ancestors’ warning about venturing too far from Meshin. The last war left many places uninhabitable.”

Ceril’s shoulders dropped. He rested against the pillar. “What…last war?”

“
It was well before my life began. The priest at Meshin is the only one alive today who witnessed the other cities die. There was no food or livable space. Meshin, however, was safe. The Ancestors built the city in the mountains for that kind of protection, made the valley we are in to surround their city. Other than the houses, though, only the temple still stands.” He pointed into the distance. Ceril could see a large structure rising from the horizon, a single spire amid the rubble. Surrounded by the broken towers and ruins in which Ceril and his team found themselves, the shining, purple temple was both ominous and awesome.

“
I still don't understand what this has to do with us,” Ceril said.

“
Then you are blind.”

“
Maybe,” Ceril admitted. “But answer me this: what happens when something happens to the priest, when he dies? What then?”

The creature’s purple brow furrowed. “When our priest dies, another will assume the position. The Ancestors are very clear that those with magic hold the keys.”

“
The keys?”

“
I say again, you are blind, outsider.”

***

Earlier that day, Ceril had been able to Conjure a makeshift communication device that allowed him to actually speak and converse with the angels that inhabited this Instance. Saryn and Chuckie, on the other hand, could not.

Ceril had no idea why his Conjuring was more finely tuned than the others—he had a delicate hand with the nanite skins, always had. He was able to control individual nanites to do multiple tasks at once, which was a skill that Roman had once told him came “once in a blue moon.” Whatever that meant.

So, while Ceril and his guardian angel discussed things, Saryn and Chuckie watched from within their open-air cage.

Saryn leaned over to Chuckie and said, “Do you have any idea what they're saying?”

“
None. It's kind of pissing me off. I tried to do what Ceril said with the nanites, but it never worked. You?”

“
No on both counts. I could get the shell of the thing on my face like he said, but after that, it might as well have been a costume. It worked not even a little.”

“
Well,” Chuckie said, “let's hope he's not completely screwing us here. I don't have to tell you that I don't think our fearless leader is so fearless. Or all that good at leading.”

“
Give him some slack,” Saryn said. “He's doing the best he can in a bad situation. You and I got briefed and agreed to these as our Rites. Which meant we defer to him, whether we like it or not.”

“
I'll defer, that's fine, but I'm not going to let him get me killed while he goes and has a powwow without us.”

“
You think
he
is going to be the one to get us killed? After what you pulled on our way here?” There was no way these guards were just going to overlook the fact that they had killed their initial captors.

“
It was his plan, Saryn, and you agreed to it, too. Don’t blame me just because I have the biggest guns.” Chuckie paused and watched Ceril for a moment. “I just hope he knows what he's doing. One way or another, these guys have to know what's up.”

“
Yes, it was his plan. And it worked. For a while, at least.”

“
A while? And yet, here we are.”

Saryn frowned. “Yes, here we are. Lucky to be alive, by my count. After we murdered two of them.”

“
Again, Saryn, not my call.”

“
No, it wasn't. It wasn't mine, either, but at least I take responsibility for what I did.”

“
Following orders,” Chuckie said.

“
Ignorant bastard,” Saryn said and turned back to listen to Ceril and the Jaronya talk. It was more productive to listen to clicks, chitters, and whistles than to argue with Chuckie Tidwell.

They eventually broke their conversation for a recess, and Ceril came back to sit with his group. The Jaronya guard walked gracefully away, holding itself in perfect posture the whole time.

When it was far enough away, Chuckie said, “Well?”

“
Where do you want me to start?” Ceril answered.

“
Did they know anything about Swinton and Harlo?” Saryn asked.

“
I didn’t ask.”

“
Why not?” Chuckie demanded.

“
Because I figured that if they have managed to stay clear of the angels up to this point, I wouldn’t be doing them any good by verifying that they’re out there. They might have seen them when we were taken, but maybe not. If not, then it’s better if we don’t even ask. I’m sure if they were taken, they would be dropped right here with us, anyway.”

“
Makes sense,” Chuckie conceded.

“
Thanks. For all we know, they’re trying to make their way to us. We’ll try to meet up with them when we can, if we can. We have to worry about ourselves and trust them to take care of themselves for now.”

“
Yeah, good point,” Saryn said. “Where are we?”

“
They call it Meshin. I think it used to be their capitol. They claim to be descendants of some long-gone race they call the Ancestors, who they worship like gods. Over the years—I take it to be thousands—the cities have fallen into ruin.”

Chuckie looked up. “
This
is their capitol? We don't even have a roof!”

“
Exactly,” Ceril continued. “Apparently, there are
some
structures that are whole and useable. Just not many. He said that they're waiting on some kind of messiah to come and rebuild their cities and restore their culture to the greatness it once had. I think there are more cities like this all over the Instance.”

Saryn was next: “Why take us then?”

“
They saw our breathers.”

“
What?”

Ceril reached out and tapped her nose. “You know, that thing you're wearing that filters the air and makes you not vomit every three steps you take?”

“
Yes,” Saryn said, “I know what they are, obviously. But why did they kidnap us for them?”

Ceril cleared his throat. He ran his left hand through his hair and scratched the top of his head. Finally finding the right words, he said, “They think
we're
their messiahs, or at least that one of us is.”

Saryn and Chuckie blinked at Ceril. A few moments passed as they absorbed what he said, and then Chuckie said, “Well, that don’t sound too bad, does it? Bein some kind of god to all them flying, purple people.”

“
Ignoring that,” Ceril said. “Obviously, we're not their messiahs. We're not their saviors. We're not anything to these people. But they think their prophecy is being fulfilled because the messiah will have magic like their Ancestors. So instead of killing us where we stood, they took who they could grab and started to bring us back here.”

“
And then we killed them. Don't forget that,” Saryn said.

Ceril nodded. “I haven't forgotten, and they haven't, either. We're to go before their priest and plead our case. It will be up to him whether we are innocent or not and how we will be punished.”

Saryn sighed. “What do we do now?”

“
We wait,” Ceril said. “I was told that the best thing we can do is wait and lay low. It may have taken them a while to come and find us again, but they did. And that time, they were prepared; you saw how little damage our weapons or struggling did after we killed the first two. We're essentially their prisoners now from what I understand, and the only reason we're alive right now is because they think our arrival might be prophesied.” Ceril blinked and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Then, as if answering some unasked question, “I just don't know.”