Darkvision (23 page)

Shaddon grinned. Somehow, the crystal of his face was able to flow and move almost like real flesh. Seeing the naked sinew beneath the mask made the expression too much like a skull’s rictus for Warian’s comfort. He partially averted his gaze.

“And it is good to see you, too, Warian. Very, very good indeed.” If possible, his grandfather’s grin seemed to stretch wider. Warian’s earlier concern that Shaddon might harbor the same taint as the other plangents returned and perched on his heart.

“Because you miss your grandchildren?”

“Certainly, always. But also because of what you represent, Warian. You’re the first, you know. Your arm is what led to all this.” Warian’s grandfather gestured to his own face and toward Sevaera, who stood nearby.

“I’m here because I’ve been having trouble with it. It is malfunctioning of late, and I’d like to learn to control it.”

Shaddon nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard. Let me take a look,” he commanded, approaching Warian.

“You’ve heard? But we’ve only just arrived.”

“You don’t think my communication with Datharathi Minerals is limited to the speed of an airship, do you? Of course not. I have my ways. Now, let me see your arm.”

Warian held out his prosthesis, palm upward. His grandfather reached out with his gloved hands and ran them along the crystal.

“Interesting,” said his grandfather in a distracted manner. “You may not know it, Warian, but your prosthesis is cut from a portion of the lode not connected with the pure vein we found recently. It is not part of the crystal node that has brought the family so much wealth and influence.”

“I saw the new mine—and some sort of magical portal. Where in the name of the four dooms does that thing lead?” Warian imagined some sort of fiery hellscape, the typical destination of such ancient gates, according to popular tales and tavern songs.

Shaddon chuckled. “Time enough for full explanations later. Let’s see …” Shaddon gazed intently at Warian’s prosthesis. Shaddon’s crystal eye glowed, hinting at some sort of magical analysis beyond Warian’s ken.

“What’s the verdict?” asked Warian.

“Impossible to say for sure,” said Shaddon, releasing Warian’s arm. “One thing is certain. Your arm is not part of the new crystalworks. That may be why you’re losing control over it, as you say—though I suspect there’s more to it than that.”

Warian shrugged.

“In any event, if I’m to reach a definite conclusion, I’ll have to remove it.”

Warian’s jaw dropped. “Remove … no. Out of the question.”

Shaddon laughed. “Your error is your belief that you have any option other than what I want. The arm will come off. By Pandorym’s voice, you will…”

The porter brained Shaddon with an iron bar he’d apparently pilfered from a workbench in the neighboring chamber.

The light in Shaddon’s crystal eye winked out, and he dropped heavily to the floor.

“Let’s get out of here, kid,” the porter said, his voice returning to the timber and Vaelanic accent of his Uncle Zel.

“You’ll go nowhere,” said Sevaera. She stood in the doorway, blocking their exit. Her voice was oddly deep and throaty—but familiar. All too horribly familiar. Shaddon’s voice issued from Sevaera’s mouth.

Warian and Zel blinked, stunned. Sevaera yelled, “Aid me, my pets!”

Zel looked around nervously, then advanced toward the exit, the iron bar gripped solidly in his pale hands. He said, his voice slightly shaky, “You saw me strike down dear old Dad. I’ll do the same to you, Sis. Get out of my way.”

Sevaera said, “Your father is more resilient than you think. Open your ears, fool—who do you think is talking to you?” The voice was unquestionably Shaddon’s scratchy tone. Zel merely shook his head, refusing to consider the truth.

A spider the size of a dog dropped onto Zel’s back. Zeltaebar uttered an oath and began to beat at his back ineffectually with his pry bar. Sevaera tittered in Shaddon’s heavy tones.

Warian turned and knocked the spider away with his prosthesis. The arm was still slow, slower than flesh, but he caught the creature squarely on the torso. As it fell, it snapped overlarge mandibles at Warian. Its mandibles were crystalline, through and through, and glowing with violet malevolence.

“Watch it, Zel. These things are enhanced with crystal!”

Zel whirled and struck at the spider. It caught the iron bar in its mandibles. Zel cursed and tried to pull the tool free. The spider flexed its fangs, and the iron bar began to bend. While the spider was occupied, Warian moved forward and delivered a terrific kick directly to the spider’s head. Something crunched, and sticky fluid spurted. A moment later, the spider’s legs curled up beneath it and it ceased moving.

Three more spiders dropped from the ceiling. One had crystalline mandibles as large as the first spider’s, another had legs of slender violet stalks, and the last spider’s spinnerets, protruding obscenely from its posterior, were composed of humming purple crystal.

The three arachnids dropped so they were roughly equidistant from each other, with Warian and Zel penned in at the center of the triangle they formed. Warian couldn’t decide—should he trigger his arm, or wait? The weakness that would follow would make him worthless.

“We’ve got trouble, Nephew,” Zel breathed, sizing up the spiders.

“Indeed,” said Shaddon’s voice.

Warian’s grandfather stood up from where he lay, apparently no worse for wear. His voice again emanated from his own throat. Sevaera blinked and shook her head.

“What happened?” she asked.

The spiders held their distance, taut with expectation. Warian supposed they waited for a signal from Shaddon—perhaps a signal as ethereal as desire. His grandfather was demonstrating the danger of taking a prosthesis. He could send more than a signal—he could send his entire consciousness, like a possessing spirit. The evidence was incontrovertible. Except Warian was certain he’d never been possessed by any outside consciousness.

Warian exclaimed, “You can’t reach me, can you? That’s why you want to remove my arm. I’m outside your control!”

Shaddon laughed, but it was strangely nervous. Both eyes, the flesh and the crystal, darted about as if searching for something, then focused again on Warian. He said, “Something like that. Just as I can command those who are outfitted with my advanced prostheses, I myself am susceptible to influence by a… disagreeable entity I’d rather avoid. Your prosthesis harbors the secret of erecting that barrier. And, by all accounts, it grants you some of the benefits a plangent enjoys.”

“If you want my help, I’ll give it,” said Warian, trying to look into his grandfather’s eyes and discern if the man spoke truth. “If you’re afraid of something beyond you, let’s work together. You don’t need to…”

“No. It’s far beyond that now. There are other players in this little drama, and they’re making a nuisance of themselves. Events have advanced too quickly.”

“But…”

“Sevaera! Restrain these two. The arachnids will help. More visitors have arrived!” So saying, Shaddon blurred out of the chamber, moving with the enhanced speed only a plangent could muster.

Warian pleaded, “Aunt, let us go—can’t you see Shaddon’s corrupted? We need to flee!”

His aunt, still confused and perhaps a bit scared, nevertheless stood her ground. She said, “Don’t take me for a fool, youngster. Stay where you are, or …” she trailed off, gesturing to the spiders.

Taking her wave as a cue, two of the monsters rushed forward. The one with the crystal legs jumped at Warian. Before he could do more than widen his eyes, it was on him, sticking to his body with its prosthetic legs. The spider with the crystal mandibles skittered toward Zel, who raised his bent iron bar and called, “Warian—if you can use your arm, do it!”

Sevaera squawked, “Stop! I command it! You spiders—I did not tell you to attack! You stupid, stupid creatures!” The woman stamped her foot, and her crystal implants began to glow. Instead of taking action, she continued to shout at the spiders. The one on Warian responded by squeezing him. The arachnid closing on Zel continued its advance. The final spider turned and began to exude slender strands of crystal webbing.

Warian realized that events had spiraled beyond his aunt’s control. He didn’t trust her anyway, since she was susceptible to Shaddon’s control—or perhaps some deeper, more corrupt entity, if Shaddon could be believed.

Warian focused his mind on his prosthesis.

Violet light took fire in Warian. A miniature sun burned a circuit down his forged arm, awaking it to something better than mere life. Warian grinned, and with the merest flick of his prosthetic finger, propelled his eight-legged attacker off his body and out the open doorway.

He turned. The light in his energized arm was bright—brighter than it had been on the two occasions he’d called its power. He laughed, drunk on the feeling—he was faster and stronger than ever! His power was mounting, not diminishing.

Another theory immediately vied for his attention. Could it be that he was simply draining his life-force more completely each time he called on the artificial limb’s hidden gift? Intuition told him that the less agreeable and more deadly explanation was the likely one.

Could he control the effect, he wondered? Could he moderate how much energy his arm pulled from his body and mind? The previous times he’d triggered his ability, he’d been desperate, as he was now. But then, as now, the arm brimmed with so much more strength than he needed. And when the implant dimmed, he felt so horribly drained.

Warian concentrated on dimming the light in his arm, imagining its brilliance damping but not failing completely.

A green and purple haze swirled before him, and a sharp nausea dug into his bowels. His breath heaved, but the radiance of his arm faded without going out.

Immediately, the sounds and movements around him returned to a normal speed.

His Uncle Zel yelled, in a voice barely distorted, “Warian, get this thing away from me! What are you doing standing there?” The crystal-mandibled spider snapped at Zel, but Warian’s uncle fought it off, just barely, by swinging his iron bar.

Warian moved to aid Zel, but fell down instead. Had he drained himself anyway? No—something tugged at his foot—he was caught! Glistening purple strands of crystal stretched between the floor and his left leg, anchoring him in place. The spider with the prosthetic spinnerets had been busy. To Warian’s horror, it spun yet another crystal strand, one end of which caught him on his crystal arm.

He flexed his dimmed prosthesis, trying to break the hair-thin strand. The web was tougher than it looked, but with a bell-like pop, the strand broke.

An instant later, two more webs landed on him from the busily spinning weaver. “Damned beast,” he cursed. So much for conserving his energy.

Consciously, he increased the arm’s radiance. Enhanced strength was his again. With a light tug, he pulled free of the strands holding his arm, then climbed to his feet. He reached down and snapped the strands still attached to his foot. Simultaneously, he tamped the radiance down to the barest glimmer. A hollow feeling was beginning to blossom in his chest, but the moment he cooled down the brilliance, the empty feeling stopped growing. Warian knew he was fast approaching the limit of the usable energy of his body.

Without pausing, he charged at the web-spinning spider. It worked its spinnerets with great speed, ready to release another entangling salvo. The spider skittered away from Warian’s charge, but he grabbed hold of its fat, hairy body. It writhed and snapped, and he nearly dropped it. Instead, he whirled in a half circle. Warian released the spider at the terminus of the circle’s arc with a hard snap. It flew like a ballista bolt into the wall, making a satisfyingly loud crunch as both its carapace and crystal shattered.

“Warian!”

He turned and saw a spider bite Zel. His uncle dropped the iron bar and clutched the bloody wound on his leg. The spider, its crystal mandibles stained red, moved in for another bite. Warian was too far from his uncle to do anything but stare with sick horror.

Both Warian and Zel yelped in surprise when Sevaera dashed forward and stomped on the spider with her artificial leg. The woman kicked the creature flat until little remained but a sparkling, bloody smear.

Sevaera tried to put a hand on Zel, but her brother flinched away.

She asked, “Zel, what’s going on? I know Father said to hold you, but… plangent spiders?”

Still clutching his leg, Zel said, “Thank you for coming to my rescue. But it doesn’t mean I trust you. You’re compromised.” He limped toward Warian and the exit.

“Aunt Sevaera,” Warian began, but stopped. He wanted to invite his aunt to join them—but as Zel said, she was a plangent. How could he depend on her to control her own actions? Shaddon demonstrated that he could possess her at any time, and implied even more frightening aspects of the entity in the crystal.

He decided on a different tactic. “Aunt, you must get those crystal implants removed. Shaddon has gone mad, or he’s been possessed, or maybe both. He’s able to commandeer the body of every plangent he creates.”

“Commandeer?”

“Possess and control every action.”

Sevaera gasped and asked, “Did he do it… to me? Just a little while ago?”

Warian nodded.

The woman, already pale, paled further. She said, “I’ve suspected something wasn’t quite right, you know. Too much lost time. And every so often I’d find myself somewhere strange with no memory of how I’d gotten there, or why I wanted to go there.”

“Shaddon was testing out his new toys,” said Zel, somewhat maliciously.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” Her last words spiraled up in pitch. Tears welled in her eyes. Sudden sympathy for his normally cruel, self-assured aunt took Warian by surprise, and he took a step toward her.

What happened next would haunt his dreams for years to come.

Sevaera’s eyes widened in sudden panic, as if she spied something utterly abominable. He’d never seen such naked fear in anyone’s expression. She gasped, “Run!”

“Sevaera?” questioned Zel. But a black film glazed the woman’s eyes. Humanity leaked away, and what stared out at them was the soul of the void. A grave-cold wind blew up, and Warian’s hair streamed toward his aunt. She had become a deep, dark well, and a monstrosity lurked at the bottom.