Chapter 59 - Move

  As Alex makes his way down the passage , some signs of life start to show themselves again. The primary corridors are wider than any of the tunnels that Alex had traversed when crossing between the chambers that make up Hell’s geography. And from the sides of the huge passage, smaller access routes branch off, lined with storefronts, doorways, and other businesses. Places that cater to the elites of the city. Places that people like Alex aren’t meant to be in.

  That last thought crosses Alex’s mind as he notices the disdainful glances he receives from those nearest the primary corridor’s opening when he pauses between intent-movement jumps. The reaction wasn’t unexpected, but it still gives a subtle sting. Alex does his best to ignore it. Apparently his efforts weren’t quite working, since Corvus speaks up, having clearly noticed something.

  “There is a perception that those without Animus will not persist long enough to place value in maintaining things for the long-term.” Corvus says, his tone even and controlled. Alex still picks out the barely contained derision that creeps in at the edges. Then he gives a sigh through the telepathic contact. “Sadly, the perception is somewhat grounded in reality.”

  “Once Faded, few strive to regain what was lost. Many simply maintain a baseline existence as best they can, and do not push for more. This in turn causes those with immortal souls to view the Faded as…” Corvus trails off, not wanting to use the phrase that sprang to mind.

  “Vermin? Parasites?” Alex finishes the sentiment for Corvus, getting a nod from the crow’s beak in reply. He makes a couple more leaps, nearing the end of the corridor. Only once he’s standing at the junction does he speak again. “Sure, of course they would. Drain us of the only resources that matter, then get annoyed when we don’t just disappear.” He grumbles, the almost growl in his voice catching Hara’s attention and causing her hackles to rise in response.

  Realizing she’s responding to his anger, Alex takes a breath and reaches down to stroke the hound’s head. “Sorry Hara, I’m just angry.” He says, trying to soothe the protective girl. “It makes a sick kind of sense though.” He shudders, a flash of his memory in Last Stop invading for a moment. The view of ‘The 1 Buffet’, and the trap it represents. “This might be a nicer city, but it seems like it still has the same problems.” He says, remembering the spark of purpose that had led him this far. “Problems I want to find out how to fix.”

  As Alex remembers, as he considers those impacts, the tugging on his sense-of-direction rekindles. As if summoned by those very thoughts, it pulls at him, almost aimed straight below his feet. The sudden resurgence of that pull catches Alex off guard, and it breaks his chain of thought. The feeling subsides gradually as he tries to mentally grab onto that impulse. But it’s elusive, slipping through his mind’s clutches like water through a cloth.

  “Alex?” Hara questions, nudging his leg. It refocuses his attention and he looks down at her. “Alex, why stop?” She asks, looking side to side down the new corridor that the previous one had ended at. “Which way now?”

  Shaking off the strange sensations, Alex examines the wall, looking for more direction markers like he’d seen before. The new passage is clearly labeled, Constance. Now he just has to find the right junction. He pulls the slip out again and rereads the address. “Maxwell… Maxwell… Here.” He says, pointing to where that passage’s name is etched into the stone work on the left side. “It’s down this way.”

  “Yes, you will want the seventh side-path on your left.” Corvus chimes in, having taken a look at the address at the same time Alex had been double-checking his destination. “The side passages are much less clearly marked.” Corvus adds as Alex jogs down the large corridor.

  The side-passages are narrower here, and glancing down them, Alex gets a feeling this is either a more private sector of the undercity, or at least not a place intended for unscheduled visitors. He counts them off as he jogs, “Five, six…” He slows to a walk, stopping at the next opening. Only a small plate set into the side of the arched entrance labels it as the Maxwell corridor. Alex steps in and makes his way along the side of the passage.

  Checking the slip once more, Alex finds his way to a nondescript door with no label except for a number matching the delivery’s address. There’s no doorknob, no handle, and pressing against the door doesn’t budge it either. So Alex resorts to the tried-and-true old fashioned knock. He raps his knuckles a few times against the door and then steps back. Seconds turn to moments, moments to minutes. He knocks again. And again.

  When Alex is about to knock for the fourth time, he pauses, then lowers his hand as he hears a racket coming from inside. A moment later the door swings open, a somewhat short man stands in the doorway, with an electric-blue gaze that seems to pierce straight through Alex. “Uh, Delivery from Zephyr Courier Services.” Alex says, unslinging the crate from his back.

  The man doesn’t reach out to take the package. Instead it lifts from Alex’s hands and the man side-steps to allow it past as he uses telekinesis to take the crate. It floats into the room beyond and disappears. The man turns to close the door before Alex remembers the slip. “Wait, um, here.” Alex says, tearing off the customer side and hands it to the man. But again he doesn’t take it, and just closes the door in Alex’s face.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The torn slip falls from Alex’s fingers and he takes a step back. “Ok… that’s… fine.” He mutters, suddenly feeling very uneasy. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, turning back the way he’d come. Retracing his steps leaves Alex with an ominous itch at the back of his neck. The sooner he was back above ground, the better.

  The rest of the return trip takes little time, and on the way, Alex recognizes something. It seems as if the main corridors of the undercity are named the same as the roads the access shafts connect to. Constance Corridor connects with Constance Street above. A detail he tucks away for future use, though he hopes he won’t be returning to the undercity any time soon.

  Corvus narrows his eyes, staring into the chamber where The Cultivator’s great working continues to build up power. It has been weeks now, and the ever thirsty runes seem nearly full. The constant outpouring of power hadn’t wavered in the slightest. If anything, they’d only gotten more consistent and predictable. Gravitas had long ago moved on to find other entertainment, and other Apex had taken the long-way around to investigate each other or offer alliances of convenience.

  Some had started making concerted efforts to breach into the chamber, using offensive magics to blunt a coming wave of power, then trying to blitz inwards to the center before the next burst. One had even made it, managing to touch the citadel for a moment before the next eruption had vaporized the body and coated the wall of the spherical chamber in a fine pink spray in the direction he’d come from. That was a few days prior, and the fool hadn’t managed to revive. Each time his body had come close to restoring itself between pulses, it would be reduced to paste again. None had attempted a direct assault again.

  Others had made attempts to access the runes from outside the chamber’s perimeter. That event had caused the largest upheaval yet. Mercurial Ascent had convinced one of the younger Apex to tamper with one of the collection runes. The less experienced Apex had the bright idea to invert the function and draw power back out. And, it worked. The power indeed did flow out. It flowed in a pinprick narrow beam of impossible pressure, for less time than even the fastest of them could judge. And in that brief fraction of a second, it annihilated everything behind that point, taking out the younger Apex, Mercurial Ascent, and four others, in a flash.

  The saving grace was that there wasn’t another claimed land in that direction, and the beam of pure power only bored a hole in the stone. A hole the width of a hair, and over a mile deep. It wasn’t the beam itself that destroyed the bodies of the other Apex. It was the back-scatter of the beam impacting the wall of the small hollow they’d carved to gain access. The rebound was monstrous in its own right.

  To top it all off, The Cultivator’s paranoid preparations meant that no impact was actually caused to his device. Other runes had triggered as soon as the one was tampered with, diverting a miniscule amount of power to rewrite the altered rune and restore its original function, and then rebalance the power stored in the others near it to make up for the trivial amount lost.

  Corvus has to admit, the mechanism is truly impressive. Perhaps ‘coward’ is not the right word to describe The Cultivator after all. Perhaps ‘Paranoid Psychotic Genius’ would be more apt. But it does not really matter. At this stage, nothing can be done to delay or subvert the coming calamity.

  And even as Corvus has that thought, something changes. The next pulse of power races out, and rebounds. It doesn’t get pulled into the runes. It bounces off the spherical chamber’s walls and flows back inwards. The runes are filled. Corvus’s eyes widen and he braces himself for the impending eruption. But it doesn’t come. Instead, another pulse meets the prior one and both dissipate into the chamber. Corvus suddenly realizes what’s happening. The fuze is lit.

  Of course the detonation wouldn’t happen just when the runes are filled, the chamber itself is the last container. And as a third pulse happens, Corvus starts to be able to detect the rising energy pressure in the chamber itself. The rate it grows determines how much time they have.

  “FLEE.” Corvus telepathically shouts. “FLEE NOW. Repeat this message to the others.” He insists again, and is gratified when those closest start echoing it back and spreading the warning. And once he’s content that the message will spread, he obeys his own advice. Turning his back on the chamber, Corvus bolts down the tunnel at full speed. In the twisting confines, Corvus’s physical speed trumps his ability to Intent-move the same distance. The sheer speed he can travel at causes shock-waves in the confined space of the tunnel. Thankfully the next chamber would have multiple larger pathways he can take.

  Only when he has longer sight-lines does Corvus use the elevated capabilities of intent-movement, but he pauses after a single leap. It dawns on him, the tunnel he’d taken to arrive at the Burden of Intent’s location had the same claustrophobic tunnel leading in, tightly curved, narrow. The same was true in the tunnel he spent the past week in. “They’re Baffles.” He says to himself, looks over his shoulder back the way he’d come. “Paranoid Psychotic Genius indeed.” But the moment of reflection can’t last, as the ground is already starting to thrum.

  Back in New Europa, Alex approaches the depot, ready to grab another delivery. But a telepathic broadcast freezes him in his tracks. The voice that ripples through every mind in the city carries a depth that chills Alex to the core. “Seek. Shelter.” Two words said with as much restraint and control as possible, and still the same, Alex notices several of the other runners stumble. For the Faded, even hearing that message lands like a hammer blow.

  Alex gets a faint impression of the direction it had come from and turns to look. The only thing he can see is a massive eye bigger than the sky. A terror so primal and raw that it can only be called instinct grips his mind, freezing Alex in place.

  Corvus’s splinter had been still and quiet for a long moment, but then the crow snaps his head to look in the same direction. “Leviathan.” He says, a tremble of awe creeping into Corvus’s voice. “Alex, move. Move now.” Corvus urges. But Alex can’t tear his eyes off of the immense presence that seems larger than existence itself. “ALEX.” Corvus snaps, finally getting the boy’s attention. “Move!”