Birthright-The Technomage Archive (34 page)

“
We do. I think. This one was mad, too. He said we didn't have the right to read what the Ancestors left behind. He seemed angry we were even looking at what he called the Text—which, by the way,
is
their religious scripture—and said we had to go before the high priest within the hour to have our debt settled and pay for our crimes.”

“
Sounds like a real hootenanny.”

Saryn said, “Where do we have to go?”

“
The Temple,” Ceril told her, “which, if I had to guess, is in the middle of this mess. There.” Ceril pointed in the direction the Jaronya had flown. A single, complete tower rose above the ruins. It was tall enough that it could be seen from any point in the synthetic caldera.

Saryn responded with sarcasm, “Gee, Ternia, how'd you ever figure that one out? Was it that fancy machine you strapped to your head?”

“
As a matter of fact, it was. Seriously, though, if these things want us there within an hour, I suggest we head out. I don't know if it'll be possible to make it that quickly since we don’t know our way around the city, but at least we have a waypoint. We can see where we’re going.”

Saryn and Chuckie tightened the straps on their packs and set out for the center of the ruined city.

As they walked, Saryn said, “I thought that Conjuring was just something the Charons could do.”

“
Me, too,” Ceril said. “I've been to a few different Instances and not one of their populations could Conjure. Or at least, they never did in front of us.”

“
But that didn't mean they couldn't.”

“
I see that. I just don't get it.”

“
Me, neither,” said Saryn. “My research took me off the ship, too. And each time I left, I was told that I could wear my nanite sleeve, but if I did, I was not allowed to Conjure anything. Especially if I was anywhere on Erlon.”

“
You had one up on me, then. They barely let me practice with the sleeve.”

“
You know how to use them pretty good, anyway, boss.”

“
Not as well as I’d like. I think part of it comes from having a Flameblade, though. Bryt taught me how to use it, how to really treat it like it was part of me, and I guess that kind of helps with the sleeve, too. As far as Conjuring on Erlon, I know they keep technomages a secret—or try to—but I thought it was to protect people, not to hide the truth. I wasn’t terribly worried when I saw the Jaronya scouts and guard have Flameblades. I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t worried. Stranger things have happened. But seeing that their wings are Conjured, too, makes me think something's up.”

“
If these Jaronya have the technology to Conjure,” Saryn asked, “then why haven't they fixed their city with it? Or better, why did they not prevent it from being destroyed in the first place?”

Chuckie chimed in, “Maybe they couldn't.”

“
What do you mean?” Saryn asked.

“
Well, these things seem awfully oppressed. We've seen em wear rags, and we’ve seen some that are better dressed than Headmaster Squalt. There's some kind of control going on, that’s all I’m saying.”

“
Okay,” Ceril said, “And?”

“
Well, what if, like a long time ago, these things were trained
out
of Conjuring? To, you know, control them better.”

“
That's not an entirely stupid idea, Chuckie,” said Ceril.

“
Yep, didn't figure it was.”

“
I mean it. That makes a lot of sense, actually. And from what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t put it past this high priest to do just what you said. Come to think of it, the first one I spoke with said that they didn’t have the magic their Ancestors did. He said
magic
. He also said they didn’t want it. What if that means the Jaronya aren’t like us? What if they have the ability to Conjure naturally, not through the use of nanites and sleeves and all that?”

“
That would mean their high priest, if Chuckie is right, isn’t exactly a standup kind of guy,” Saryn said. “Which doesn’t comfort me, Ternia. If the high priest is all about control, and we killed two of his flock—no wing pun intended—wouldn't that mean we’re walking to the firing squad right now?”

Ceril nodded. “Seems so, doesn’t it?”

“
What does that mean for us, then?” Chuckie asked. “What do we do?”

“
Well, we don't have a whole lot of choices, Chuckie,” said Ceril. “I think the best thing we can do is keep going, meet with this high priest, and figure out just what is going on. Find out who the Jaronya are, why they can Conjure, and if there is any way their Conjuring can help us find our way back to an Instance we know.”

“
And try not to let them execute us. Don't forget that,” said Chuckie.

“
Yeah, that's important, too,” Ceril said. “We certainly don't want them to kill—”

His words were cut off as the ground gave way beneath him. Chuckie's reflexes were sharp enough to leap away as soon as he saw his companion begin to fall. Saryn lost her balance, but managed to stay away from the maw. Ceril, however, never had a chance to move out of the way: the ground crumbled directly beneath him, and he plummeted into darkness and out of sight of his companions.

Chapter Twenty-four

Damien could hear the constructs chasing him. Or, more accurately, he could hear the destruction they caused as they chased him. The ground shook under him, which spurred him to run faster.

The hallways passed him in a blur as he weaved through doorways and around corners. He occasionally passed a person who gave him a funny look, but he couldn't warn them about what was heading in their direction. If he did, the constructs would catch him and he couldn’t have that.

So he ran. Hard. He pushed himself to his physical limits, and he was just barely able to stay ahead of the security drones.

The crashes were getting closer as he ran. Blocks of stone and pieces of metal began to shoot past him, landing in his path. As he rounded a corner, he felt the energy of a Horrith golem’s bolt zip past his face and slam into the wall next to him. Dust erupted into his eyes.

He blinked them clear as he ran, and that’s when he saw it. The Library. The massive doors leading to the central hub of Ennd’s Academy. Damien’s natural instinct was to drop to the ground and relax.

He had made it!

But he couldn’t stop yet. Stopping would get him killed.

So Damien Vennar focused his fear, and the nanites in his veins energized his muscles into one last burst of speed toward the brushed metal doors.

He reached the doors just as a nicely dressed female professor entered a passcode into the control panel in the wall. She seemed oblivious to the constructs rampaging through the halls as she nonchalantly pulled the doors open with a
whuff-pop
. Damien leapt at her, hooked his arms around her waist, and dragged her into the Instance she had just opened. The destination didn’t matter right now. Any Instance would do, would keep him safe from the golems.

Immediately upon entering the new Instance, Damien closed the door. He had to lock the security constructs out and hoped that Ennd's still wiped the last passcode from the entrance panel when the door shut. He heard no banging from the other side of the door, and nothing crashed through. He assumed he was safe for the moment.

“
Get off me!” the professor said. She tugged at his hands around her waist, trying to free herself from Damien's grip.

He let go and said, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“
I have a strange feeling you aren't,” she replied. “Just what do you think you are doing? Who are you?”

“
Damien Vennar,” a voice behind them said.

Damien whirled, taking in his surroundings as he did so. High windows let bright sunlight beam into the oval room, where rounded walls housed books from nearly floor to ceiling. In the gaps where there were not books, numerous weapons sat in transparent cases. Damien recognized many of them from his youth, but some of them were not Erlonian in origin. As he turned to face the voice, his view was blocked. A gigantic holovid was being projected from the ceiling. The hologram dissipated as he faced it.

Sitting behind a crescent-shaped desk was a middle-aged man, balding, dressed in a very fine suit. He rose as if to greet Damien, but instead, he ignored him and spoke directly to the professor.

“
He's an old acquaintance of mine, Nary,” Headmaster Squalt said, and Damien smirked at the remark. “I thought he was deep into retirement by now. How is retirement, Damien?”

Professor Nary Thralls distanced herself from Damien and walked toward Squalt. Her demeanor had gone from anger to confused anxiety the moment that Squalt had said his name.

Damien stayed put. He put on a show of absorbing the events going on around him, but in reality, he was resting from the fight and chase that led up to his serendipitous arrival in the headmaster’s office.

“
Retirement
was
nice.” His inflection said everything he needed it to. He added, “If you two have business to take care of, I can wait,” as though he had just dropped by to chit-chat.

Squalt smiled, but it never touched his eyes. “Oh, heavens, no. I wouldn't dream of making an old colleague like you wait while we handled mundane academy work,” he said, which translated into
I'm going to get you out of my office as fast as I can one way or another, and you're not going to hear anything about my school while you're here.

Damien smiled back, but it never reached his eyes, either. “I'd never want to intrude, Gilbert.”

Nary Thralls shifted her weight from one foot to another. She said, “It's nothing major, Headmaster. I can come back later.”

“
No, I don't think you can,” Damien said. He was still smiling, but the force in his voice showed that he meant to take control of the situation. The not-so-friendly banter was getting them nowhere, and Damien needed answers. “Why don't we all have a seat and visit for a while?”

Nary Thralls looked at the headmaster who nodded in the affirmative.

Damien gestured at a couch and two chairs that Squalt used for comfortable meetings. Damien sat dead center on the couch, while the headmaster and professor each took a chair facing him.

Squalt eased himself into a chair. He squinted slightly at Damien. The look on his face said that he was being careful, that he knew Damien Vennar was dangerous.

Good.

“
Do you know Nary Thralls, Damien?” Squalt asked as the trio settled in.

“
No, I can’t say that I do.” The old man extended his hand to her. She hesitated, but eventually shook it. “Damien Vennar, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”

She just nodded and sat back in her chair.

“
Nary is a new professor at Ennd's this year,” Squalt informed him. “She teaches culinary arts, and I have to tell you, I have never tasted Yaghian goulash like hers in my life. You’ll have to try it some time.”

“
Indeed I will,” Damien said.

“
So what brings you to our neck of the woods, Damien?” Squalt asked.

“
How is Ceril these days?” Damien responded, completely ignoring Squalt's question. “I haven't been able to speak to him in years.” Venom dripped from Damien's words.

“
Oh, that's right!” Squalt said in faux remembrance. “Ceril is your grandson!” He turned to Nary Thralls. “You weren't here when Ceril Bain was a student, but he was a very promising young man who wanted to go into agriculture, if I remember correctly.”

Damien glared. “Cut the act, Gilbert.”

Thralls’ eyes darted from her boss to Damien and back again, indicating that this was not the professional work environment she was used to.

“
What do you want, Damien?” Squalt asked. The friendliness in his voice was gone.

“
Answers.”

“
Shoot.”

“
How is Ceril these days?” Damien repeated.

“
From the reports I get occasionally, I hear he's doing well. The last report I got from Nephil was that he was off-ship in an Instance doing thesis research on the connection between religion, myth, and location. Interesting stuff. You'll have to read his thesis when he's finished. He might be finished by now, actually. That report was a few months ago.”

“
I doubt I'll ever have that chance,” Damien said.

“
It's a shame. He's turned into quite the golden child for the Charons.”

Nary Thralls eyes bulged. “What?” she said. It was the first word she had managed to speak since being dragged into Squalt’s office.

Damien responded before Squalt could propagandize the reply. “You know the Charons, right, Nary? The technomages of ages past and the stuff of legends?”

“
I know the stories like everyone else,” Nary said. “There is no need to patronize me.”

“
I'm sure you do. I'm sorry,” Damien said, and he meant it.

“
That still doesn't explain what Headmaster Squalt meant when he said that your nephew—”

“
Grandson.”

“—
grandson was a golden child for the Charons, though.”

Both of the men ignored her.

“
Golden child, huh?” Damien asked.

“
Did you expect any less?”

“
Hoped, I guess.”

“
Is that all you came here to ask me, Damien?” Squalt asked. He scratched the side of his head absently. “Because if it was, then your hermit's lifestyle has affected you too much. You could have always just sent a message to check on the boy.”

“
You know damn well that's not the reason I came.”

“
Then out with it, old man,” Squalt said sharply. “I don't have all day.”