Artemis Invaded (29 page)

Her voice dropped. “Later, one of Dad's friends told him that when the loremasters screwed up their courage and went to take a closer look they found footprints in the mud on the bottom level—human footprints. A tracker said there might have been as many as half a dozen people there—but there were no prints in the mud on the ground floor when my dad and his friends from the patrol boat went in—not a single one.”

“So where did they come from?” Akilles asked.

“No one knows,” Willowee said. “Some folks are saying it's the ghosts of the seegnur come to haunt the Sanctum in punishment for the sacrilege done there by the Old One Who Is Young.”

“The ghosts took long enough,” Hektor scoffed, although there was more than a little bravado in his voice. “He's been living there for generations.”

“Do ghosts leave footprints?” Elektra asked, her voice trembling just a little bit.

“They don't,” Adara said. “If ghosts did, Bruin would have taught me to track them and he didn't.”

Elektra looked relieved. Adara felt good about that. She decided against telling what she knew about tunnels between the mainland and the Haunted Islands. That would undo any comfort she'd offered. Those who knew had decided that information should not be allowed out until they were certain the Old One was gone. Now it seemed that he was not, for who else could have left the prints?

Something had been in the Sanctum, something that had left footprints. Julyan and the Old One? Perhaps some of their lackeys? Was there any connection between Willowee's tale and whatever had splashed into Spirit Bay? Adara didn't see how there could be, but had she been Sand Shadow, the fur along her spine would have risen.

“Interesting,” she said, rising from the table and easing her tension in a spine-cracking stretch. “Very interesting. Now, let me pay for my breakfast by helping unload the wagon. Then I'm off to the mountains once more. Griffin and Terrell must hear this tale.”

*   *   *

“The tunnel is blocked ahead,” Falkner announced, “just beyond the bend.”

He was looking at some device on his scooter. Julyan had noticed that the man spent much time looking at these, even when he was driving. He wondered if Seamus found it as creepy as he did.

But then Seamus is used to the Old One Who Is Young poking around in his head. There's probably very little he finds odd. At least Falkner pays attention to his surroundings. Alexander's been so busy talking that we would have hit the wall a couple of times if the force shield hadn't bounced us off.

He wondered, not for the first time, if Alexander was doing this on purpose, to make him jumpy. Certainly, Alexander knew how much Julyan hated surrendering control to anyone else.

“Looks like a transit capsule,” Falkner continued a moment later. “A big one.” Siegfried was unholstering the weapon he wore near one hip. Falkner cautioned him, “Don't shoot at it. If I were setting a trap, I'd arrange for it to trigger when someone tried to blow a hole in the capsule.”

Siegfried replied grumpily. “I wasn't going to shoot at it. I wanted to be prepared.”

Julyan didn't believe him. Back when they'd been clearing out the debris crammed into the tunnel between Mender's Isle and the mainland, Siegfried had resorted to one of his weapons to break larger things into smaller. This had filled Julyan with a mixture of envy and fear. A ray of greenish-blue light had flowed out, surrounded the target in a viscous field, and then, when Siegfried had made some adjustment, had somehow crumpled whatever was within the light. There had been no explosion, no flying matter, just light ray, enclosing field, and “crump.” He had the feeling that Siegfried would have used the thing more often but, apparently, the thing used a lot of energy. Falkner was always reminding him that recharging wasn't automatic here.

He guessed no one else believed Siegfried either, but if their little group had a leader, Siegfried was it. Even his brothers reserved challenging him for those times when his actions might endanger them. The group slowed their scooters, coasting until they were within a few body lengths of the blockade. Falkner hopped off his scooter to better direct a beam of light over the thing, but from the way he kept consulting the little device in his free hand, he might as well have not bothered. Julyan relied on his eyes.

He'd wondered why the tunnel's walls and ceiling were rounded. Now he understood. The capsule fit along the sides like a spitball in a blowpipe. The top didn't reach the roof, but was also rounded. Like the tunnel floor, the bottom of the capsule was flat. It didn't come all the way down to the floor. There was a gap about the length of his extended arm underneath. Julyan hunkered down and saw a rectangular panel there.

“Probably for servicing the works,” Alexander said, kneeling beside him. “The entrances and exits were on either end, so that the capsule could be shot up and down the tube without the need to turn it around.”

“So,” Julyan said, moving up closer to Falkner, so he could avoid Alexander, “can we just open it on this end, work the scooters through, and go out the other end?”

“That would be the logical thing to try,” Falkner agreed. “I'm analyzing the mechanism now. Even if the powered latch is out, there would have been an override for emergencies. Well and good, but that override is where I'd set the trigger for an explosive.”

“You think about these things a lot,” Julyan commented.

“My job,” Falkner said absently. “Although I set the bombs as often as find them.” His tone shifted, losing the conversational note. “Now that's interesting. I don't recall seeing that sort of texturing before. Could it be some sort of energy grid?”

Although he had no hope of understanding, Julyan looked where the other directed. The underside of the capsule was covered with an erratic coating of what looked like fine wire bristles, silvery grey and so delicate that they seemed to shimmer. The smallest cluster was about the size of the upper joint of his thumb. Larger groupings covered the surface to the extent of both of his outspread hands. Only about a third of the area was covered, leaving Julyan to wonder why they were placed so oddly.

“Patchy,” Julyan was starting to say when he realized that the things were moving. At first, he thought the sense of motion came from the flickering light. At the same moment that he remembered the seegnur's lights didn't flicker, the first of the prickly things dropped off and began to roll toward him and Falkner.

Julyan jumped back, crashing into Alexander. Falkner, his attention split between the rolling burr and the device in his hand, wasn't as quick. As if blown by a strong wind, the burr raced up to him, rolling over his trouser leg before impaling itself on the back of Falkner's left hand. Falkner cried out and tried to bat the thing away with the device he'd cradled in his right hand. A shrill yelp revealed that all he'd succeeded in doing was driving the tiny needles deeper into his skin.

More of the prickle burrs were dropping off the bottom of the capsule and rolling toward Falkner. Horrified, Julyan realized that they didn't just roll. Each tiny needle served as a leg, pushing the burr with astonishing speed and accuracy. Falkner was trying to get to his feet, but his usual coordination was gone and he swayed unsteadily.

Toxic,
Julyan thought, assessing as if confronted by some unfamiliar animal.
They'll swarm over him in a moment. If they get onto him, we won't be able to do anything without hurting him worse or getting bit ourselves.

That left one option and he took it. Julyan grabbed Falkner under the armpits and hoisted him clear of the floor. Falkner was nearly as tall as Julyan, but his build was thin and wiry, rather than heavily muscular like that of Siegfried or Julyan himself. Stumbling back, Julyan got Falkner clear of the floor, up over one shoulder. He felt a breeze. Alexander was beside him, mounted on their scooter.

“Get on!” he ordered. “I'm going to activate the defensive field.”

Julyan obeyed, half falling into his seat, Falkner draped across his lap. Falkner was breathing erratically and his skin was very hot. Alexander made the scooter rise, then switched on the field. Julyan looked around.

Siegfried had also raised his scooter. Julyan noted that the Old One did not occupy the passenger seat as he had before. Instead, he'd taken possession of Falkner's scooter and was hovering. Seamus sat behind him, his expression as passive as that of a doll.

The prickle burrs swarmed beneath them, seeking a target. There were a lot more of them than had been visible on the underside of the capsule. Julyan guessed that they must have been hidden all over the thing. Their speed was incredible. Julyan found himself grateful that Alexander had brought the scooter. There was no way he could have outrun them as he had planned. They would have caught onto his clothes, rolled up his legs, found bare skin.

He shuddered, imagining tiny needles piercing his skin. They'd be like sand burrs, so fine that you wouldn't even feel them until the poison started burning. He grabbed Falkner's hand, reassuring himself that the burr that had attacked him remained firmly hooked into his skin. Julyan tugged free the bandana he wore around his neck and wrapped it around the thing, just in case. It wouldn't stop it from injuring Falkner, but at least it couldn't just drop off and get him.

Siegfried was studying the writhing silvery grey mass, his expression detached and analytical, as if his own brother wasn't the one who was injured.

Alexander spoke sharply. “Sig, can you hold them? Falkner's been poisoned. He's burning up. I can't treat him without first hooking him to the diagnostic, and I can't do that while we're on the scooter.”

“I think I can,” Siegfried said calmly. “Back down the tunnel. Maxwell, go with him. Offer what aid you can. If you must, use the scooter to block any burrs that come after you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Julyan looked back as Alexander set their scooter in motion. The prickle burrs had stopped their aimless rolling and were now shooting tiny needles up at Siegfried, but the needles couldn't penetrate the defensive field. The burrs seemed to realize this. Julyan's last glimpse of Siegfried, before Alexander whipped them around a bend, was of the burrs rolling onto each other. Their prickles meshed, enabling them to bond into a larger mass, thereby overcoming their limitations of size and height.

Julyan thought of how he'd seen a swarm of bees attack, no one bee very large, but the entirety more than enough to kill a far larger opponent.

“I hope Siegfried's careful,” Alexander said, bringing the scooter to a halt and motioning for Julyan to dismount and lay Falkner on the floor. He removed what Julyan already knew was a sort of portable hospital from the scooter and started attaching tubes and wires. “Those things might have more than whatever poison they used on Falkner. What if they can generate something that will cancel the scooter's field?”

It seemed like a very real possibility. From the talk of the last several days, Julyan had gathered that anything the Danes could do they assumed the Old Imperials also could have done—and far more efficiently.

“Shall I warn him to be alert for such?” the Old One asked. “I can operate the communication panel.”

“Do that,” Alexander said, “and if you can manage to both keep an eye open for any of those burrs coming toward us and remote monitor what Siegfried is doing, that would be good. Guarding gets first priority, though.”

“I understand,” the Old One said.

Alexander was studying a message on the side of his hospital box.

“Neurotoxin. Type unknown,” he muttered, speaking as much to himself as to the others. “No surprise. A generalized anidote has been administered. The fever's a puzzle, though. Most neurotoxins don't cause a fever. The victim dies from respiratory failure or convulsions. Could be a secondary element, maybe a fast-acting bacteria or virus. Probably won't spread except by body fluid contact. Too dangerous otherwise. Still … Won't hurt to…”

He made a few adjustments to the box and the fluid pumping into Falkner changed from clear yellow to brilliant orange.

Alexander looked at Julyan. “I've done what I can. Even if there was a secondary component, Falkner'll probably survive it. We were proofed against everything any of us could think of before we left home. Still, Falkner wouldn't have had a chance if you hadn't pulled him out of there. I won't forget that. I promise you. I won't forget that.”

Julyan felt oddly comforted.

*   *   *

Despite the disturbing aspects of Griffin's experience with the blue spavek, he remained eager to find out who else in their small group might be able to operate one of the suits. He was equally interested in learning which of the suits might be better suited to his abilities—abilities that Ring had hinted were not fully awakened. That didn't mean he couldn't get the suit ready.

“We know where the emergency release is now,” Griffin explained to Terrell, “so no one need be overwhelmed like I was. And it would be very interesting to know more.”

Terrell looked at him sidelong. “Interesting? Why? Those things are dangerous. I think the seegnur were right to lock them away. We of Artemis have been content not knowing about them. If you want them, then take them away from our planet. Take this whole complex if you will, but leave us alone.”

Griffin was shocked. “I thought you would be the most eager. You've never struck me as a coward.”

“I'm not,” Terrell said steadily. “But I've also never been one to leap from a cliff into an icy lake simply because someone dared me to take the plunge. Compared to putting on one of these spaveks—these suits that invade your mind and body alike for the purpose of permitting you to spread death and destruction—compared to that, jumping into an icy lake and seeing if you drown before you freeze—that seems sane!”