Chapter 34: Off-kilter

REMEMBER to order them to rest. Lapis lifted her lip in a sarcastic snarl and glared at the blotchy shadows across Tuft’s back. Of course, it would be that easy. And here’s a set of words that will come in handy if they don’t listen, which she repeated over and over, though she doubted she instilled the exact pronunciation in her mental repetition.

She had experience ordering khentauree around. Both Chiddle and Tuft seemed happy with that, but the specter of failure hung over her as she recalled every time she issued Taangin orders and the mechanical beings ignored her. Why expect a different outcome with ones led by a computer who would not see her as a legit commander?

At least they got a bit more info from the sheets; Tethasige Movanash and Siscousige Gyalt headed Tor Gyord, though she had the impression, from what Tuft read in the desk pages, that the siscousige had left the base to oversee the evacuation of Torc Idris, with no indication of where that was or why it was important enough to send him there rather than have him remain at his home torc.

She rubbed at her nose, winced as her nostrils filled with the citrus scent clinging to her clothing, and swallowed hard to keep the rolling acid where it belonged—in her tummy. What vile stuff. Why did they use it? Why not something less caustic?

Tuft picked up the pace and disappeared into an entrance with half the door missing. The feel of the air changed once Lapis slipped through the gap; mustiness accompanied by the sense of abandonment struck her, much like it did in backrooms of the church where Scand’s cubby sat. Considering the cleanliness of the areas they traipsed, a neglected hall concerned her.

“You were right, Chiddle,” Tuft buzzed. “But why?”

“I don’t know, but this corridor should keep us from enemy notice. I detect no security devices or active tech.”

“We will remain out of sight, but we are no closer to discovering where Arox290 sits. My scans now break within a few body lengths.”

“The interference’s increased?” Lapis asked. Just their luck, the Drakeways’ flight would make their chase more dangerous.

“Yes, but the materials of the walls further down are also to blame.”

Layne shined her light into an open door; the remains of an unmade bed with disintegrating sheets and blanket sat to the side of a dresser with drawers sagging to the ground and random clutter spread across the floor. A lamp lay shattered at the base of a nightstand, glass scattered beneath the mattress. Picture frames remained on the walls, the canvases pooled in clumps underneath.

Barracks? No; the ones near the palace had huge rooms with stacked beds and several soldiers calling them home. This room reminded her of a Stone Streets merchant residence that sat above their store; homey enough for one or two people, but no one more. Who had slept there? Officers, maybe?

“The notices outlined every step, so why do these rooms look like the residents fled them in a hurry?” Gera asked, peering through another doorway.

“Maybe they didn’t tell the stubs until it was time to go?” Lapis found that plausible; how many nobles ditched their household staff when the skyshroud crashed? If evacuation space was limited, she imagined commanders and officers demanding seats and leaving the lower ranks behind.

“Something feels off,” Tuft said, peering into another room, shuddering, and continuing.

“I know little about the Taangin evacuation,” Chiddle murmured. “The mines had owners of Taangin descent one day, and the next, others took their place. We never halted mining or production, and no human overseer informed us of the purpose of the change. The miners said things in passing about an unexpected and swift retreat, but their worry remained local and not on broad political implications. It was a difficult time, with sparse food and necessities and materials. Five years later, everything returned to what it had been like before.”

Lapis wished she had more knowledge of the Taangis Empire evacuation. The rooms hinted at a speedy, unexpected retreat, but all tales she had heard of their leaving Theyndora spoke of a purposeful, orderly return to the continent of Pelthine, where the leadership faced a neighborly threat. Her uncle should know, and she wished he were near enough to easily ask.

They continued, dust puffing from the carpeting with each crunchy step. She tugged her scarf tighter around her mouth, narrowing her eyes as they teared under assault by the fine particles. Paying more attention to her discomfort than her surroundings, a thrill of fear shot through her when Tuft stopped. He swiveled his head to Chiddle, then sent a single bubble coursing along the floor, to illuminate chassis and metal body parts shoved against the walls.

Oh no. Were they in the torc’s graveyard?

Many had limbs missing, so she assumed the extant beings repurposed them, but realizing both silvery and ashen grey bodies lying there shocked her. She had the impression that civilian and military khentauree did not interact.

“These wounds are consistent,” Tuft said. “Entrance through the right temple, their third eye removed.”

Chiddle brushed past, and Lapis followed closely, unwilling to stand at the back of the group. Rin kept his toes on her heels, and Layne and Gera took rear, turning their lights up to see better.

Other than the head damage and missing parts, nothing else appeared wrong with the chassis and torsos. Heads outnumbered bodies and sat atop each other without care. Considering how tidy the offices were, considering her previous experience with khentauree respect for those who went to silence, the haphazard disregard for the bodies sent a quiver up her spine. Something was terribly wrong with the theater residents, and they would have to find out what, to rescue the captured.

“I don’t think the eyes were retrieved for parts,” Chiddle said, toeing a head over to reveal the fist-sized hole in the head, black lining the edge. “The panels are intact, so there was no need to punch through a head unless it occurred in battle.”

“Khentauree against khentauree,” Tuft murmured. “The wounds are too precise across all heads for humans to have made them.”

“Did civilian and military khentauree work together often?” Lapis asked, staring at a lighter grey arm spilling into the aisle, dull dust coating it.

“No.” Chiddle shook his head. “Laws prohibited it. Military khentauree, if repurposed for the consumer market, had their programming, weapons and interiors altered and their skin replaced. No chassis retaining anything considered military secret technology would have ended up in civilian hands, unless sold to underground markets. Even then, the modders would have had to alter the purposefully obtuse conflict default code or the khentauree would have battled their way free and returned to the nearest base.” He swept his hand to encompass all the bodies. “Perhaps this happened after Taangis withdrew. This base would have only supported military khentauree, but once the siscousige and tethasige left, others may have taken over their leadership roles. They may have brought khentauree from other parts of Jiy to be sent to silence here.”

“Both the non-military and military have the same wounds,” Tuft said. “But many remained active. Who chose to end these beings and not the others?”

“This is why they haven’t cleaned the hall?” Gera asked. “They are bodies of non-torc khentauree?”

“It is strange,” Chiddle said. “We of Ambercaast, the Cloister and Shivers care for those who went to silence, no matter their origin. There is no care here. There is no honor. There is not even military precision in lining up chassis for replacement parts.”

“How much danger are you in?” Lapis asked.

“None,” they chimed together.

Layne cocked her head, then scanned in front and behind them. “Are you sure?”

“We special khentauree are not guided by old commands,” Chiddle proudly stated. “We do not follow what ancient humans programmed into our core. These khentauree will do as they are told, and that will inhibit what damage they inflict on us. You are in far more peril.”

“Have you seen anything like this before, Chiddle?” Lapis asked. Tuft’s origins remained elusive, but she knew the Ambercaast khentauree had asked Gedaavik to designate him a hunter rather than guard because he disliked fighting, which meant he experienced it at some point.

“No. Battlefields are messy, but even there, khentauree honored their etak. There is no honor here.”

“They raid for parts without care.” Tuft rumbled, a sound that seemed to echo from his torso rather than head and neck. He proceeded down the aisle, his hands clenched and shaking.

“There ain’t no cleanin’ scent, neither,” Rin said. His unusual quiet proved he found the situation disturbing, or he would have more questions about the why of it. “Jest dust and hints of sponoil.”

“Burnt sponoil,” Chiddle corrected, but said nothing else. Was that the black stuff around the edges? She glanced up at the rat, who swallowed in unhappiness, and patted his arm before moving on. She wanted to race back to the theater and out the front door; instead, she crept down the pathway between still bodies and prayed to the non-existent gods one did not pop up and strike at them.

The hall continued, and so did the remains. The numbers shocked Lapis; she had not expected so many. Chiddle must be right, and the Jiy leaders had brought the khentauree from around the city to one place, likely for safekeeping from looters. But why the same head damage? What was the point? Surely third eyes failed, like any other body part. But if they used them for parts, why were the spidery khentauree’s legs made from patchwork metal? Plenty of unused limbs lay in the piles.

It all struck her as weird, and when dealing with khentauree, weird meant dangerous.

The further they went, the more random parts sat in the aisle as if thrown there. Etak members, from her brief experience, showed concern for others in their group. She saw no care, so perhaps the bodies were from an opposing force that invaded the torc? Perhaps Jilvaynan leaders had khentauree they commanded, they fought the empire’s mechanical beings, and the tech people tossed the damaged ones here after taking them out?

That would explain the hasty evacuation; rebels took advantage of the retreat, forcing the Taangins to leave before they intended to.

Tuft paused again, hoof raised to step over an arm, then backed up and set his leg down. He created a fan from ice and waved it at the limb, sending dust puffing into the air. “They have dousin,” he murmured.

“Rank?” Chiddle asked.

“Siscou-doukaaden.”

The Ambercaast khentauree hummed. “Why would the siscousige leave his guards behind, if he visited another torc?”

“He would not have, especially during a retreat.”

“Siscou-doukadeen were guards?” Lapis asked, staring at the armband and cyan stripes barely visible under the remaining powder.

“Yes, personal guards of a siscousige,” Chiddle said. “They never needed food or sleep, so could stand guard day and night. They only listened to their specific general, too, which caused problems if they became sick or died because they would protect the corpse as they protected the living human. The tethasige had a special command to force them to shut down in such cases, and they would alter their code.”

“Does that mean the siscousige died, and the tethasige shut down the guards and dumped them here?” Layne asked.

“I don’t know, but a siscousige would never leave them behind if he traveled off base,” Chiddle said. “And while many guarded them, the number of military khentauree here are far more than what a doukadeen etak would have.”

Prickles of growing alarm raced down her spine, and Lapis glanced over her shoulder at the corridor with dread. Something was terribly wrong, and she suspected the Drakeways tech made it worse. Wishing Jhor was with them, she followed the ice khentauree as he stepped around discarded parts.

The hall ended in a pitch-dark double-wide entry, the doors held open by khentauree piled against them. Tuft swiveled his head back, then daintily pranced between the blockage, his arms tight to his sides. Lapis disliked it, too, and hopefully the room had another door, or they would have to re-trace their steps and find an alternate route. She shuddered at the thought of retreating through the remains.

She motioned for Rin to precede her, then tiptoed through. These did not have the dust accumulation she expected, and deep grooves dug into the powder on the floor. Had the khentauree put them here more recently? Why haul them all the way down the hall to—

She froze, and Layne had to push to get her moving. She stumbled into the room, breath hitching, and joined her brother, who stared at the right-hand wall Tuft’s bubble illuminated.

A metal rod pierced the mouth of a skull and the collar of the thick coat bunched up behind it. The rest of the skeleton had fallen in a heap of fabric, leather, and bone. Attached to the left breast and upper arms were silver squares containing red, blue and gold beads strung from top to bottom, denoting someone of rank. A hat with flaps and an insignia on the front snugly fit over the forehead, one she recognized from history books; the Taangis Empire symbol of three trees, the middle taller than the other two.

“The siscousige,” Tuft said.

“A khentauree killed him.” Who else could have driven a rod through a person’s skull then embedded it in concrete? Lapis looked around; she detected no tables or seating in the dim light, just disintegrating luggage and more long-dead humans draped over the pieces.

“And the tethasige.” Chiddle pointed his beam at the far wall; another body, with just as many beads but of green and purple colors, also had a rod through their skull and coat collar. They did not have a hat, and their head tipped up, keeping thick, dust-coated glasses in place. A cracked-open briefcase rested beneath them, bottles and tools lying on the ground around it. 

“Look at that,” Gera breathed. Her light trailed multiple footprints across the room to the left, where another set of double doors sat open. “Wanna bet this is the back way the Drakes took?”

Chiddle trotted to the door and peered through it. “There are air currents,” he said. “The theater is on a cliff. This must be an evacuation route that ends at the face.”

“How far do you think we are from outside?” Lapis asked.

“Not far. My scans are fuzzy, but I do not think humans are in the walkway or the cavity beyond. They have escaped, if this is the way they took.” He swiveled his head. “I will check.” He surged inside.

With a grimace, Gera crept around two skeletons and to a single doorway beyond the unlucky siscousige, one that had several footprints leading from it. She shined her light through it, slowly turning her head from one side to the other. “The hall’s narrower, with more chassis,” she whispered. “Many are broken apart. All doorways are open, some with lights further down.”

Lapis closed her eyes. “Bet Drakeways used them for experiments, just like the Meergevenis scientists did.”

“I do not understand this need to destroy what they study,” Tuft rumbled. Gera and Layne looked at him, wary of the warning in his tone. “Those who have gone to silence, even if we re-use their parts, deserve respect as we do so. Humans prod and poke and break without thought or reason.”

“Don’t I knows it,” Rin muttered. “We’s gots the Pit.”

“It won’t be around much longer,” Lapis promised. “Not under Midir.” She glanced at the siscousige and then at the door. “I can check out the rooms.”

“Let’s go,” Gera said, nodding toward the hall.

The dark rooms had old furniture and other objects pushed to the sides, doorways leading further in hinting at suites rather than singular bedrooms. Newer, collapsible tables sat in the center, empty or littered with cracked-open khentauree parts. No tools remained, so the Drakes cleared out with their equipment.

Tall, bright tech lights stood over more tables in the lit rooms, all clear of items. The stink of rotting sponoil wafted from one, likely produced by the wide stain of gleaming black coating the carpet in front of the tipped-over table. Footprints tracked it through the door, and smaller hoofprints deposited more at their side.

“Do they have khentauree with them?” Lapis asked, bending to look.

“Either that, or the ones here came to nose around.” Gera dimmed her light before pointing it at the end of the hall; the doorway stood ajar, fallen khentauree pushed to the sides to clear a narrow aisle, a darker line running down the center of the crusty carpet. “Looks like the Drakes threw stones at the hornet’s nest and got stung.”

“They seem good at doing that,” Lapis agreed as she bent over. Creeping to the door shook her remaining courage, but she reached it and peered into the darkness. A shiver raced up her spine, the same warning she experienced when she entered a darker-than-expected place chasing her stake, and retreated despite her other senses detecting nothing. They hastened back fast, so Gera must have felt something as well.

As did Tuft. He waved them inside with a harried motion, then sent an ice barrier across the door; one already blocked the way they had entered. Layne and Rin sat on the floor in the middle of the path, and he knelt in front of them, shielding them with his body. She and Gera joined them, and the Minq turned off her light. The bubbles disappeared, leaving all in darkness. A cool breeze whisked around them; the ice khentauree must have erected a third shield. She reached out, connected with it, and drew back, wincing as cold penetrated her glove and stung her hand.

Rin pressed into her, and Lapis set a hand on his leg; he gripped her fingers and she squeezed tight.

Crack.

The four of them gasped as another hit echoed in the room. A hand rested briefly on her shoulder before moving to Rin; Tuft, providing reassurance.

The high-pitched thumping switched to a deeper pounding; a khentauree used their legs to break the ice. She had seen Tuft’s shields protect from tech cannons; a singular mechanical being, unless they had a specialized attack mechanism, would not break through.

A lung-shaking screech tore into the room, too loud, too gritty. Lapis slapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut as pain stabbed her eardrums; Rin grunted and she felt him do the same.

Run. They had to run. The other route, they could escape . . .

The enraged sound faded, though did not disappear, and Tuft’s grumbly buzz drowned it out for a moment.

One final, thundering thud, then silence but for gasping.

Lapis slowly lowered her hands, ears ringing, then wiped her tearing eyes with her knuckles. Rin’s quivering breaths dwindled in intensity as Tuft created a bubble in his lap, and patted his leg. His torso swiveled to the Minq.

“Are you harmed?”

They shook their heads; with helmets, they could not attempt to drown the sound with their fingers.

“My ears are ringing, but I think they’ll be fine,” Gera whispered.

“What was that?” Layne asked, her voice quivering.

“A noosten, a forward,” Tuft said. “In battle, they were sent ahead of the enemy’s front line to cause chaos, through noise, sniping, and other means. They terrorized populations who had no previous interactions with khentauree, causing flight that interfered with soldiers’ ability to fight. If the enemy also used khentauree, the noosten often ended up silenced by their hands.”

“Well, if they were chasing the Drakes, they now know we are here,” Layne said, distressed, and sucked in a heavy, uneasy breath.

“Yes, but they do not know if we escaped or not,” Tuft reminded her. “They scanned, but they met ice.” The shield fell as Chiddle trotted up, gaze focused on the ice wall. Large cracks spread across it, obvious even in the dim lighting.

“I contacted Path,” Chiddle said. “There is a ledge, and the signal strengthens when on it. She says the others are having issues with traversing the second level.”

“What kind of trouble?” Lapis asked, immediate concern punching her.

“Traps. It was not uncommon for Taangis to protect valuable assets with tech. Dov must deactivate them, and khentauree chase them. Patch has taken the role of siscousige, and some listen, some do not.”

That was typical.

“Path asked the theater khentauree about the Drakeways and they are angry. They said the humans arrived unexpected, voicing siscousige commands. They followed until they attempted to break them, and Arox290 ordered them to break the humans in turn. The humans stirred defenses they should not have touched, and we will face them if we proceed.”

Lapis sagged. They did not need the extra danger.

“It is not as dire as you think. Path persuaded them to share the floor plans.”

She must have ripped the maps from memory, considering the blandness in Chiddle’s voice.

“Arox270 is not on this floor, but in a master console room beneath it. Humans have only interacted with the secondary consoles in the basements, not the main one. The khentauree say even they are forbidden access to the main console, as it only allows those tasked with cleaning its space to enter.

“The kidnapped are in the secondary console’s room, and I know where it is. We traveled in the opposite direction from it and must backtrack.”

“With the noosten hunting us,” Tuft grumbled.

“There was something wrong with it,” Lapis declared, her tenuous courage crashing.

“Yes,” Chiddle agreed. “But if we are to find the kidnapped, we must face it.” His head swiveled to each of them, then Tuft. “The second basement has a tertiary and quaternary console room. Dov agrees they should attempt to reach one or the other and deactivate Arox290. We shall do the same with the secondary.” His head swiveled to Rin. “They send rebels to chase the Drakeways, but they do not know what they look like. I can share my memory with Path, but not with humans. You must be their eyes in this.”

Rin huffed. “But—”

“It is important. We do not know what their tech did to the console. If you catch them, you can convince them to tell us. We don’t want to cause more damage and make the situation worse. I will walk you to the ledge. Their footprints lead down, so wait for the rebels to reach you, then give chase.”

He opened his mouth, then licked his lips and sank his upper teeth into the skin below his lower lip. “Dammit, that makes sense,” he muttered.

“I’ll go with him,” Gera volunteered. “Then you can worry about reaching the console.”

“Take these,” Tuft said. He held out his hands, and two ice, arm-held shields formed, long enough to protect the torso and legs to the ankles. “These will halt khentauree attack, if you encounter one. You should not; the tunnel does not intersect another. Chase swiftly.”

Rin took one and nodded, then hugged Lapis around the shoulders. “Be safe,” he whispered.

“You too. No chances, Rin.” Slipping her arm around his waist, she squeezed tight, her emotions in turmoil. She knew why Chiddle suggested it, and she knew the other rats would leap at the opportunity to help him hunt down the Drakeways shanks. She never would keep them away from danger, would she?