The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) (8 page)

“You ass,” Erin said before he grabbed her and planted a kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes, and her mouth curled to shape a smile. He could tell that, for that brief moment when their lips came together, they remembered what peace was like.

A feeling Ezra had been looking for since the first day at Zenith.

Their affection was strange to Ezra’s eyes, but he was still a stranger to love like theirs. At least he appreciated their banter, and the unambiguous demonstration that there was still a strong bond between them; it gave their group an impression of stability.

If—like so many other things—it was an illusion, at least it was a comforting one.

It didn’t take them long to reach the end of the forest, and the unusual area they had seen from the mountainside. The trees started to grow apart, and eventually ended altogether in a very clear line.

It was as though they had stumbled into another oasis inside the oasis—a new circular patch of wet, swampy terrain. A small stream that descended from the mountain fed water that pooled and moved in spiraling patterns, like someone had deliberately carved canals for it to move through.

“This doesn’t look natural,” mused Ezra.

“I don’t think it is,” Garros said. He kneeled down to confirm that they were indeed standing on dirt and mud, and not some kind of hand-carved dais. “But what does
natural
mean, anyway? We’ve been living in a whole other world for too long, right?”

Ezra nodded, considering Garros’ point. In an ironic twist, the world they knew wasn’t the world of their ancestors—the land of origin had become an alien planet. They hadn’t been around to see it change over centuries, and the result was decidedly unrecognizable.

Jena had removed her boots and rolled up her pants, exposing delicate ankles and strong calves. She took a few steps in the water, then turned around. “Water isn’t as cold as it was in the others.”

Garros nodded, drying his hands on his shirt. “It’s not. Kind of warm, actually.”

“I don’t like it. Something’s wrong with this place,” said Erin, but Ezra had grown far too interested not to investigate; the patterns of water and grassy earth told him that there was something of significance behind this mystery—something that would give them some answers, maybe even an advantage in their fight.

Imitating Jena, Ezra removed his boots and socks, and rolled the pant legs up until they were up to the level of his knees. He joined Jena, feeling the warm water wash his aching feet. The mossy surface beneath tickled him delightfully.

“Careful,” Erin said when Ezra took a few steps ahead, closer to the center of the patterned body of water.

“There’s something underneath us,” Ezra said when he was waist-deep in water. His adventurous confidence—a remnant of a childhood he was just beginning to reclaim—vanished when he saw something particularly unusual: there was a thin stream of bubbles making their way through the warm water, from the ground below. He didn’t know where they were coming from, but they were definitely not air; before meeting the surface, they appeared to be a pale blue gas that met the world as mist, and then vanished in the wind.

There was beauty in them, but they felt like a warning, like they were coming too close to some dangerous Unknown.

“What is that?” Jena said, leaning closer to the bubbling water.

“I don’t know but—this stuff smells,” said Ezra.

“Don’t you recognize that smell?” Garros said. He had walked up next to them, but hadn’t bothered to remove even his boots. “It smells like home. Like the synchronization chambers. The docking bay.”

Ezra nodded. It definitely did, and that familiarity let the confidence return. “Should we see what it is?”

Garros knelt and dunked his hands into the water to feel the floor under the surface. Ezra couldn’t see his hands move, but suddenly, there was a new stream of pale blue gas. When it bubbled into the surface, Garros whipped his hand back as though something had bit it, splashing water all the way back to Erin.

“What the hell’s down there?”

“Garros, wait. Cool it,” said Erin from the riverbank. “There’s definitely something beneath this pool, but we’re not going to risk sticking our heads in ourselves. I know we said we shouldn’t synchronize for a few hours, but—”

“I can do it, no problem,” said Jena, eyes on the streams of bright blue pearls. “I agree it’d be much safer to do it from the Creux.”

“All right,” said Erin. “I’ll go back with you, then. I need to make sure everything’s fine with Phoenix after what happened anyway.”

“Erin—”

“It’s just a moment, Garros; it’s not going to be a problem,” she said, and Garros didn’t argue, even if the look in his eyes told Ezra that he wanted to. “Come on, Jena.”

After Jena got dressed again, they went back through the forest, leaving Ezra and Garros alone.

Half an hour later, when the two men were sitting by the riverbank, deep in conversation about what Garros had begun to call the Creux Crazies (a term that was too awkward to pronounce, so Ezra decided not to adopt it), they heard the tremendous sounds of a Creux coming to life: a loud horn, and the roars of enormous mechanical pieces shifting positions, reconfiguring themselves to grant the giants their mobility. Birds that had been hiding in the tree branches flew off, startled by the rumble.

Garros and Ezra got on their feet at the same time and took a few steps back, away from the tree line, to see Jade Arjuna rise. Despite the time knowing Jena and knowing her Creux, it was difficult for Ezra to associate both, especially when he was such a tiny, powerless speck beneath the giant’s feet.

And to think he could look down on Jade when in the guise of Nandi. What a difference several dozen feet in height made.

Jade walked around the forest, its large feet making careful and deliberate steps, avoiding any unnecessary harm to this closed environment. Behind her walked the even more striking Phoenix Atlas; there seemed to be no lasting damage in Erin’s Creux.

“She seems to work fine,” said Garros, looking up at the two giantesses.

Once she had come close to the strange painting of water and earth, Jade Arjuna seemed to look down, trying to locate Ezra and Garros. Garros raised his big arm and gave her a thumbs-up.

Jade nodded and raised her huge thumb in response before putting one knee on the wet floor, and her huge hand on the opposite side of the pool. Once she had found a stable position, she asked them, with a very clear motion of her left hand, to take a few steps back.

Garros and Ezra did as Jade asked. Erin’s Phoenix Atlas stood several yards behind her like a bodyguard, ready to engage if the secret beneath the patterned pool proved to be dangerous.

There was no careful way to go about doing it, so Jade only plunged her huge hand through the layer of water, and into the ground.

Light exploded from the points where her fingers had stabbed the muddy bottom, and Ezra immediately recognized the light.

“What the dusty hell—?” whispered Garros, taking two careful steps closer to the pool, now even more curious about its secret.

Jade started digging more aggressively, pushing away handfuls of mud and letting it pile on the side, liberating more light and more gas that filtered through the water in beautiful, colorful rays.

Phoenix had come closer, looking over Jade’s shoulder. Ezra was the only one who kept a relative distance.

The water’s surface bent downward in a bizarre vacuum, suddenly pulled by potent gravity. He could hear the earth groan and bubble, and then—

An explosion of light and thunderous sound. He was blinded for one moment and covered his eyes before he felt water hit his knees, pushing him a foot back. An intense rain that soaked all of him in just a few moments followed. He opened his eyes, removed wet hair from his face.

The light was gone.

The explosion had sent a wave crashing against the trees, leaving nothing but a hole hidden behind a thick veil of blue mist.

Ezra and Garros coughed, covering their mouths. He wanted to speak, tell him that he could sense danger, but any attempt would only make him cough more, feeling as though he would choke.

Jade Arjuna took a startled step back, away from the hole in the ground.

Covering his mouth with his shirt and returning his capacity to breathe somewhat normally, Ezra walked closer to the space where the patterned pool used to be. The mist began to dissipate, revealing the secrets it kept.

Six feet below, when the water started pooling again through streams cascading down the muddy sides of the pit, there was a silvery gleam.

It was an unnatural structure, like a small obelisk placed on top of something else—

“Is that . . . Blanchard—,” Garros said, throat still raw and coughing.

Ezra tried to piece together the seemingly unrelated segments of polished silver and gold covered in mud. The construct slowly took a recognizable form in his eyes: the obelisk was a horn. The structure beneath was a giant helmet.

It was a Creux.

“That is impossible,” said Garros, barely able to give breath to a whisper.

They knew this Creux, and its presence here was entirely absurd. As Garros said: It was impossible.

“Is that . . . Milos Ravana?”

ф

Waking up had become more and more of a chore, as the list of reasons to do so grew small.

It had been weeks since the beginning of the Shift, and with every passing day, hope continued to fade. Not just in him—as he was notoriously cynical, and an outcast for it—but in the rest of the citadel. Every morning he’d step out of his hut, and he’d make the hour-long trek to his watchman post, and remain vigilant. That was depressing enough, but in the past weeks, since the Shift began, he’d also have to give the same grim news to everyone he walked past, begging him to share his knowledge.

Yes, the monsters were still making their horrifying pilgrimage into the Asili.

If someone in Clairvert knew what was really happening, why the monsters in the outside world had begun to peacefully walk into the mountain, never to come out, they were keeping their cruel silence.

He could see, from his post so high up the mountain, through the window carved into the earth, the world stretching far away, forever. For days he would see up to fifty or sixty monsters, sometimes travelling in groups as they were wont to do, disappear into the fissure in the side of the mountain.

The larger ones shaped like monstrous spiders could not fit through the fissure, so they had to be brought in piece by piece. Their comparatively smaller comrades had never showed any sign of remorse in tearing them apart. They didn’t even scream as they died. Solis had almost vomited the first time he saw the brutal deed.

At least they were no longer hostile. Some believed it was a good sign, that maybe the creatures were somehow leaving the planet, giving it back to the ones who inhabited it all those centuries ago. That maybe if they held on a little longer, they’d be able to tread the world again.

But most, including him, knew that wasn’t the case—there was something far bigger and far more sinister behind the monsters’ pilgrimage. After all, they had always feared the citadel of Clairvert, and it had to be some great faith that led them to the fissure right next to it.

He wished he shared any such faith.

Solis had been sitting at his post for six hours. It was noon. There had been no signs of any monster, wild or passive, anywhere near the mountain. He wondered why. Had all of them finished their trek?

If no more came today, it would be at least a little exciting to be able to go back home and tell the others that no monsters had been sighted; that should make a few people’s night a bit brighter.

Solis rose to his feet, putting his little book of stories on the table, and looked through the window.

At first there was disappointment when he looked through the glass eye to find a creature coming.

But then his disappointment turned into confusion and even fear when he realized that, if that was one of the monsters, it wasn’t of a kind he had ever seen before. It was too humanoid to be one of the Laani, and far too big to be a human being.

What the hell was it?

The thing was moving slow, as if wounded, dragging its feet in the sand, large arms barely hanging onto his shoulders. It took it several minutes, even at its tremendous size, for it to come close enough for Solis to realize that it was neither man nor monster, but something in between.

It looked like a cloaked giant wearing war-battered armor. Its dark skin was covered in thick plates of silver, its head with a mask forged to give him an intimidating appearance. There was a pylon shooting upward from its left shoulder, and the base piece of another on its right, broken—maybe lost in battle?

Covering most of it was an enormous tattered cloth that fluttered behind it like a cape.

Had it been fighting the creatures? Maybe someone else?

It appeared to be coming, not to the fissure through which the creatures had been disappearing, but to the citadel’s small and well-hidden entrance—the miraculous entryway that allowed no monster-sized creature in.