Baun’s feet touched the ground and his knees buckled slightly. He steadied himself against the Geechee Boy and looked around. Thick early morning fog blocked everything from view, but it’s cool dampness felt good against his skin, abating his nausea. He breathed deeply for a minute and the dizziness began to fade. Out in the fog he heard the dull crunch of footsteps and he turned to see two shadowy forms.
“You’ll need to stay in your ship for now, sir.”
The men were wearing goggles and carried large energy rifles. One poked his head inside the open hatch and spoke to Key. “Keep all hatches locked until notified. We’ll send a team to escort you to the debriefing after we’ve secured the area.” He stepped aside and let Baun crawl back into the cockpit. The soldiers waited until the hatch closed and then their gray camouflage uniforms disappeared back into the fog.
“Key, can you tell what other ships are in the area, including those on the ground?”
“Yeah, sure. The coordinates were very precise, but there’s always the potential for human error. I had them onscreen in order not to plunk down on anyone.
“Send it to my console. Those men weren’t from Sanctuary. I want to see what kind of support group greeted us.”
Baun’s console blinked and a topographical wire frame displayed. Key leaned over and pointed to several green shapes.
“These blips are ships and the codes are registration signatures.” Key turned back to his console and cross-referenced each ship. “Most are from Sanctuary, but four are troop transports out of Fort Sholkirk.” Key whistled. “What’s out here that requires that many marines?”
There was a loud pounding against the ship and both men jumped in their seats. Baun looked out his window and saw two marines waving up at them. Baun opened his hatch and hopped down.”
“They’re ready,” the man facing Baun said. The other man was facing the fog, scanning the area through his goggles.
Key landed on the ground beside Baun with a loud crunch of rock beneath his feet. “I nearly died of a heart attack! You smek-heads ever hear of a radio?” Key was running one hand over the nose of the Geechee Boy looking for dents.
“This way,” was all the marine said, pointing into the fog. Baun and Key followed him, and the other marine fell back, only his shadowy form visible in the fog.
As they walked, Baun examined the ground that crunched beneath their feet. It was a slate-colored gravel and each stone was roughly the size and shape of his thumb. He stooped down without stopping and picked up a handful of them. They were so smooth that at first he thought they were oily, but then he realized the morning dew had created that illusion. On close examination, he noted that they were not identical, but they did share the same structure, and their edges were not as sharp as they first appeared. He slipped a few of the drier stones into his pocket and let the others fall to the ground.
It was then that he noticed the faint chatter of a large group of people. Straining against the fog, he made out a vague dome ahead. A few moments later, they were at the doorway of an enormous tent. Their escort pointed his chin toward the entrance of the tent and then disappeared back into the fog with his partner.
Inside the tent dome was a sea of green and blue uniforms. Baun recognized them as technicians and scientists from Sanctuary. Most were sitting on crates and boxes, while others stood in knots talking. At the far end of the tent was their expedition leader, Commander Chayna Vadid, with red trim on her green sleeves. She sat at a table discussing the contents of a tablet with two lieutenants and a gray-clad marine commander in red trim.
“You’ll need to check in sir,” a marine near the door said. He pointed to a table off to one side where an ID pad and console sat. Baun placed his hand on the pad and the marine manning the table nodded with satisfaction. He then handed both Baun and Key small but heavy canvas bags.
“Let’s get started, people.” Chayna Vadid was standing. “Here in Karnath it’s my show. I’m sharing that authority with the marines assigned to this task force. Regardless of any marine’s rank, you are to follow their instructions as if they were my own. If there’s a conflict, you obey first and seek clarification second.” There were a few whispers in the crowd.
“It’s not my usual style,” she continued, “but this site may still be dangerous.” She tapped her tablet with her stylus and an artist’s rendering of Nawphal’s face floated in the air before the audience. Beneath his image were the word Code Name: Xen.
“Only three people on Vale have seen Mr. Xen. One is dead, the second nearly dead, and the third emptied a projectile weapon into this man’s chest. Mr. Xen just smiled, back-flipped out a two-story window, and disappeared.” The whispering rose to a loud drone.
“Gentlemen!” Chayna waited for the room to go quiet. “Gentlemen, while I am as excited as any of you to be back on Vale, the time difference has made me a little cranky. Any more interruptions and your new assignments will make latrine-scrubbing seem pleasant. I want you debriefed and setting up camp before the second wave arrives. Is that understood?” The room was silent.
“This attacker is classified as extraterrestrial until we learn otherwise. We believe that he fled to this site and there is a remote possibility that he is still here. I’ve issued each of you an energy weapon. You will travel in pairs at all times, and with marine escort whenever possible. You are not to engage this fugitive—leave that to the marines. But it is flight or fight: if cornered by Xen, then shoot to kill.”
Chayna paused. Her face was taunt as she searched for the words, or the will to speak the words.
“We have credible reports that other creatures were sighted as well. If you see any life form, alien to Vale, treat it as hostile as well. Preliminary sweeps show that no threat exists at this site, but until a thorough search is completed we will remain on high alert.” Chayna turned off the display of Nawphal’s face.
“Pilots are to report to my vice lieutenant before unloading. He will assign new locations in order to form a defensive perimeter around this tent. Then all ranks—except marines—will assist with unloading and set up.” The marine standing next to Chayna whispered to her. She nodded and addressed the group.
“On a lighter note: for those who asked for a Call to the Stones, the answer is a qualified ‘yes.’ It’s 0647 now, so I expect this camp established by 1300. If that target is met, and the fog has cleared, then all interested participants will meet 400 paces north of this tent at 1430. Observers are permitted. Dismissed!”
Everyone was suddenly on their feet and the tent was filled with the roar of a hundred voices. Key looked at Baun with raised eyebrows. “Well, Baunee, let’s go park the Geechee Boy.”
“Yeoman Lebar!” Baun turned to see Chayna waving him forward.
“I’ll find you,” Baun said to Key and then jogged to the front of the tent.
Key turned and joined a line of pilots waiting to talk to Chayna’s vice lieutenant. As he waited he slipped the holster and gun out of its canvas satchel and wrapped the belt around his massive waist. “Aw, smek,” he spat. “They gave me a skinny boy again!”
“What if I get caught, sir?”
“There would be repercussions, but they’d be minor.” Ampado leaned on his desk and locked eyes with Barrad Quar. “Publicly I would support Strant in your discipline, but offence would be classified as only a mischievous prank. In the background I’d minimize any resulting discomfort. But it can only be you, lieutenant.”
“Only me, sir? Why?”
“I can’t leave Sanctuary without drawing attention. And I certainly can’t drop to Karnath without a smeking good reason. On the other hand, that pompous yeoman stuck you with freight duty and a planetfall to Vale is a normal part of cargo training. Very soon, someone is going to use that signal booster that you slipped into their cargo. Then Commander Vadid will be screaming for an emergency replacement. I’ll have to send someone to Karnath, so it’s you, and it’s now. You’re the top officer in my command, and you’re not afraid of a dangerous assignment.”
“But you said it wasn’t very dangerous, sir.” Barrad shifted in his chair again.
“It’s not—if you keep it that way.” Ampado tossed his stylus onto the table. “But, if Strant connects your mission with me, then we’re both fried. Indiscretion is the only real danger, and that’s a mistake I doubt you’ll make.”
Ampado studied the doubt flickering across Barrad’s face. “Lieutenant, I’m open to alternatives. Do you see another way to stop the corruption? My contacts in the Triumvirate don’t. If there’s an ethical question here, the problem lies with Strant. He’s the one embezzling information from the Triumvirate.”
“If the Triumvirate has suspicions, why don’t they investigate Strant?” Barrad asked.
Ampado smiled—an act more disarming than his candor. “An open inquiry would be my choice, too. But Strant can manipulate any investigation within Sanctuary. And he would enlist his political connections to hinder the Triad’s efforts. Every politico would enter the fray, interfering at every turn of the investigation—milking the publicity to improve their personal image, while smearing their opponents with blame. They’d gabble into every camera until they clumsily disclosed every classified secret of Sanctuary. No, this is an internal problem. Instead of politicians who serve themselves, soldiers who serve Barnobia must handle it. Are you that kind of soldier, lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. It just seems so secretive.”
Ampado nodded and stood. “I understand, son. But a strategy is worthless if it’s revealed to the enemy.” Barrad stood and shook Ampado’s outstretched hand and then saluted.
“Prepare for planetfall, lieutenant.”
Ampado waited until the door closed before he sat heavily in his chair. He rubbed his aching eyes and asked the walls “Well?”
“It’s not like you to confide in subordinates, Ampado.” It was a dry voice that filled the air.
“He’s the highest ranking officer that we can trust,” Ampado said as he leaned back in his chair. “I can’t do this alone. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said only he could pull off a planetfall to Karnath.”
“That’s about all you didn’t exaggerate, Ampado,” the dry voice chuckled. “I nearly suffocated under all that melodrama. You should be in politics.”
“That’s not even funny,” Ampado growled as he sat straight in his chair. “I never lied. I never hid the risks. And I don’t break promises.”
“Bitter, Ampado? I thought this was all for the good of Barnobia. Aren’t you being hypocritical by withholding information from the boy?”
“I don’t withhold. I focus—on the task at hand. I left out the parts that would distract or de-motivate. Would you rather I confuse him with every detail? Is that what you want? I’ll give him your dossier! Is that enough honesty for you?”
“Cool off Ampado. You work late just one night and you can’t take a joke.”
“This isn’t the time for jokes,” Ampado said leaning back into his chair, “and you know how I feel about politicians. Instead of critiquing my recruitment techniques, tell me about my recruit.”
“Barrad’s a good choice, Ampado. He’s just right in the brains department. Any dumber and he’d bungle the job. Any smarter and you wouldn’t be able to manipulate him.”
“It goes beyond manipulation,” Ampado said as he massaged his temples. “I need supporters here. If a showdown occurs, then his popularity with the other Sanctuary pilots will help. But that’s not what I asked about. Did his background check show anything?”
“Well, if he doesn’t infuriate Strant with another stupid antic, then his record is clean enough for an eventual promotion. If he makes commander, he would be a powerful ally. But it’s your call, Ampado. You know him best, so you determine whether he remains an errand boy or whether we bring him inside.”
“I can’t afford to bring him half way into our confidence. Did you find out what I needed most?” Ampado leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “If he doesn’t work out, who is going to miss him?”
“Nobody important.”
Baun pulled back the cuff of his work glove and checked his watch again—1157. He wondered if Strant had created this assignment, because it certainly gave him time to think. He glanced back at the stack of food crates behind him and sighed. He liked Chayna’s style, and until this last job she’d given him intelligent tasks. This last one, however, smelled of conspiracy.
The distinctive whir of a loader told him another delivery was approaching. Baun stood up and walked to the mouth of the Celestial Cascade’s cargo hatch. The hovering forklift crept up the ramp and paused once it was inside the cavernous hold. Baun quickly ran his stylus across the bar code on each crate and verified the reading on his tablet before waving the driver in. The deliveries were getting farther apart and smaller in size.
“Is this the last load?” Baun shouted to the driver.
“Nah, we’ve got one, maybe two more. Everybody unloaded so fast that we’re still finding cases we missed on the first pass.”
As the loader backed out and down the ramp Baun stepped to the top of the ramp. The sun had burnt away the fog and he had a clear view of the entire camp. Smaller domes now surrounded the large tent in the center of the camp, and the flurry of activity had slowed. Most of the action was centered around the mess tent. Among those leaving the tent was the massive frame of Key heading toward him.
“Baunee boy!” Key was carrying several flat boxes and he lifted them so Baun could get a look. “I got us lunch.”
Baun waved. “What did they have?”
“Steaks, potatoes, and a real salad! Fresh Gammeran produce flown in this morning. I haven’t had a meal like this in a year. This wilderness camping isn’t so bad after all.”
Baun laughed. “Wilderness camping? The Geechee Boy is air-conditioned, you swine.”
“You have to break us city guys in gradually. You can sleep on this gravel if you’re disappointed.” Key handed him one of the meal boxes and had a seat on one of the crates.
“Where’s your gun?” Baun asked. It was strange seeing everyone with holsters, but stranger still to see someone unarmed.
Key grunted and kept on chewing. “They didn’t have a belt that fit. They’re hunting for a shoulder holster that might work. I’m hoping they come up empty, and then I’ll get one of those sweet-more rifles from the marines.”
“You have a thing for big ships and big guns.”
“You forgot big women, Baunee,” Key said, shaking his fork at Baun. “Speaking of big—iyo, that rock out there is cranking! The pictures never captured its, its . . ..” Key frowned, chewing slowly. “Its presence!”
“Don’t rub it in,” Baun tossed his meal-box onto the crate next to Key. “I haven’t seen it yet.”
Key looked at him as if he were a lunatic. “What do you mean? You can’t miss it.”
“When the fog cleared, I was already stationed in this hold. As you can see, it’s pointed south.”
“Just peek around the corner,” Key said. Then he remembered that huge freighters were parked on either side of the Celestial Cascade, blocking the view. “Oh.”
“Great defense perimeter, lousy view,” Baun sighed. “This is a lifetime dream, and I’m stuck baby sitting cargo.”
“What’s a lifetime dream? Camping?”
“Seeing Gammera, visiting the Teeth of Karnath. Key, they’re doing a Call to the Stones!”
“You’ve been in space too long, bunkie. I signed up to see the world, too, but I don’t get that cranked about tourism.”
Baun didn’t hear him. A loader was approaching the ramp. It was carrying only a couple of crates, and sitting on top of them was the pilot of the Celestial Cascade. Baun rushed down the ramp and quickly scanned the boxes. Key picked up Baun’s neglected lunch and followed him down the ramp.
“That’s it, yeoman,” the pilot said as he slid off the boxes. He took the tablet that Baun held out to him. “I need to seal the hatch now, so you’ll need to eat lunch elsewhere.”
“No problem, sir.” Baun saluted sharply and then dashed away.
“Your lunch!” Key yelled, but Baun was already out of earshot. “Oh well, my gain.”
Baun squinted into the midday sun as he looked up at the 90-foot wall that now surrounded the camp. He stood at the back of the single-file line slowly queuing through the narrow door ahead. He had waited for Key, but if he didn’t leave with this group, he would miss the Call to the Stones. When his turn came, he pressed one ungloved hand to the ID pad and the marine nodded. Baun was in dress uniform, so the matching gray gloves looked appropriate, and Baun had been careful to unglove his left hand.
“Has a Key Troyaz passed this check point yet?” Baun asked.
“I could check, but it will take a few minutes,” the marine said. The door in the wall clanged shut loudly. The finality of the sound was like a bell tolling and Baun nervously checked his watch.
“No, thank you,” Baun said hastily. He fumbled with the door handle, and after a second try it swung open. Baun looked up and for the first time, he faced the Teeth of Karnath unobstructed.
The Teeth were a violent moment captured in natural stone. It looked like a colossal beast erupting from a lake of gravel, it’s maw opened to swallow the sky above. The mouth-like stone was shaped like an enormous jagged-edged stone bowl buried at an angle in the gravel-filled plain. The northern edge towered high into the sky and was topped by deep crags and sharp stone spires. This ridge curved down to disappear beneath the loose gray pebbles. Opposite this arching ridge, the southern edge of the bowl was hidden beneath the surface, but several gray spires exploded from the gravelly plain to complete the circle of stone fangs. Standing just outside those rocky fangs was a small crowd.
Baun set a rapid pace and checked his watch again. He hoped someone in the crowd would see him and wait until he arrived. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a carefully rolled band of holly-green cloth. Without slowing he threw the black-edged sash over his shoulder and let it angle across his chest. He threaded the sash under his left epaulette and rotated it until the crest was over his heart. It was a black crescent with the points facing upward. In an arc opposite the crescent, were a series of black teardrops with their tips pointed to a small black oval in the center of the crest.
“Baunee boy!” The familiar voice of Key drifted across the loose stones. Baun’s face flushed as the crowd turned to see him approaching. He wanted to slip in quietly and find his place before anyone noticed his sash. At least the spectators blocked the view of the group wearing sashes.
Key jogged a few paces from the group to meet Baun. He looked at Baun’s sash and whistled. “That’s why you were so antsy to see the Teeth!”
“Am I late?”
“No, they’re still arguing about who is going first.”
“Great,” Baun said under his breath as he squeezed through the crowd. “As if things weren’t already awkward.”
They neared the small group wearing colorful sashes, who stood apart from the main crowd. They were gathered a few paces from one of the gigantic stone teeth, the crests of a dozen families adorning their sashes. Baun walked slightly behind Key’s huge frame in order to hide his crest, and Baun scanned the group. Just my luck—not a single green sash on anyone.
An older marine with a sky-blue sash and a massive drum caught a glimpse of Baun’s sash and smiled.
“Metauli!” he shouted, “I think we have our answer.” The group all focused on the marine and, following his gaze, turned to watch Baun approaching. Baun managed a nervous smile. I couldn’t hide forever.
“I’m Daboni,” the older marine said, giving Baun a firm handshake.
“Baunerji Lebar.”
“Lebar, eh? Well, things get better every second.” The marine turned to the rest of the group. “Can anyone top a Lebar?”
A young marine in a crimson sash stepped forward to shake Baun’s hand. “I’m Metauli Lepaun.” He was carrying a large curled ram’s horn trimmed in gold. It was very old but it was freshly polished and it hung from a thick scarlet cord that looked new.
“Please,” Baun said to Metauli, “you need to lead. That’s an awesome horn you have and you’ve been waiting for this moment as much as I have.”
“No,” Metauli said emphatically, “it wouldn’t be right. I greeted the stones on my fourteenth birthday, so it’s no trouble. It would be a greater honor if I could tell my family that the house of Sklain used this very horn.”
Baun nodded. “I’ll accept on two conditions,” Baun said. “First, if you will Call to the Stones first.” Baun turned to the circle of Gammerans who were listening “And I will call last.”
“And the second condition?” Metauli asked.
“On the day we leave, you will sound the first horn and make the first call. I will remain silent.”
“Remain silent?” Metauli was confused.
“The Lebar family is barred by duty,” Daboni interjected. “He is bound to Karnath. To utter a farewell to the stones would be renouncing his oath.”
Metauli nodded and handed his horn to Baun. “An excellent solution. Clan Skamaun is honored.”
There was shuffling as other Gammerans with horns and drums came to stand next to Baun. The others fell back a few paces and arranged themselves by clan, with Metauli in the lead. The crowd of spectators moved forward to form a semi-circle around the Gammerans and Key stepped back to join the spectators.
Baun looked back toward the camp. No stragglers were coming. Nodding to the other hornsmen, he stepped between two stone spires and faced the northern ridge. The other hornsmen stood in a line behind Baun.
Baun brought the mouthpiece to his nose and took a small sniff and the others did the same. Then he drew in a long, deep breath and put the mouthpiece to his lips. It was a clear, rich note that swelled in volume. The other horns joined in, one by one until the air was filled with the roar of their trumpets. The drums joined in and continued after the fanfare swelled. When only the tattoo remained, Metauli stepped forward to stand next to Baun and raised a fist.
“Metauli Lepaun! Skamaun n’Forth! ‘Fidelity and Fortitude!’”
Daboni joined Baun on his left side.
“Daboni Lekol! Skosh n’Stonehaven! ‘We are Ready!’”
One by one the men joined the line and faced the far ridge, each shouting their greeting. Every man stood rigid and grim, like the stony ridge towering in the distance.
“Kedori Lefar! Kaunir n’Morrar! ‘War or Peace!’” The last man had joined the line. Baun handed the horn to Metauli and raising a fist high in the air, he roared his greeting.
“Baunerji Lebar! Sklain n’Karnath! ‘Virtue Mine Honor!’”
Metauli raised his horn and sounded a thundering note. The other horns joined in and the entire line of men roared with raised fists. The drums punctuated their unanimous shout of “We have come!”
“Welcome son of Sklain.” It was a small whisper in Baun’s ear, and the cheering of the observers quickly swallowed it. Baun whirled in a full circle, but no one stood close. The whispered voice had not been Metauli’s nor Daboni’s and both men were no longer close by. All the Gammerans had turned toward the approaching crowd of clapping spectators. Key was wading through that crowd and calling to Baun.
“Sweet-more, Baunee boy. That cranked.” He slapped Baun on the back.
“You are truly of Lebar,” Daboni had returned to Baun’s side. He gave Baun a two handed handshake. “You honored Metauli more than you can know.”
Baun nodded and smiled. As Daboni left to talk with Metauli, Baun looked around at the crowd, but no one was making eye contact. Who had whispered the greeting?
“You’re pale, Baunee,” Key said. “Did all that blowing and shouting get you winded?”
“No, I’m fine,” Baun said. “I thought someone was trying to get my attention.”
Key looked at the mountainous ridge to the north. “What now? Do the rocks call back?”
Baun looked to the rising wall of stone in the distance. “Only in legends.”
Two crab-like robots escorted the slow moving sled. The crab leading the caravan dug furiously, leaving a narrow trough. Key watched it from his seat at the front of the sled, slowing the hovering slab of steel whenever a large rock slowed the digger crab’s progress. Baun sat at the rear of the sled, feet dangling over the edge. He controlled the rotation of a huge reel, from which spooled a thin cable into the narrow ditch. Following the sled was the other crab, shoveling the loose gravel into the ditch until the cable was covered.
“Cush job, Baunee boy,” Key said over his shoulder. “I’m glad you volunteered for cable detail. The digger crabs are doing all the hard work.” Another sled piled high with crates whooshed past them. The techs perched on top gave a quick wave as they quickly pulled ahead. “Boring, but cush.”
“I wasn’t going for ease,” Baun said. “We’ll get to run this into the cavern itself. Maybe even into the Crystal Chamber.” Baun looked past Key to the Teeth of Karnath. At their current speed, they’d be at the far stone wall within an hour. They held a straight course which would lead them to the cave at the base of the huge mountain.
“Hate to cork your burners, Baunee, but Metauli said the chamber caved-in about twenty or thirty years ago.”
“How many sleds have passed ups so far, Key?”
“About twenty, I’d say.”
“Seventeen,” Baun said. “And only two have returned to camp. I don’t see anything parked at the cave entrance, so all those crates and technicians are inside somewhere.”
Key’s eye grew wide. “My apologies! When you chose extra duty—while everyone else chose a nap—I thought you’d gone boonis. Now it turns out I’m the one flying half fired. I underestimated your curiosity.”
“No apology necessary, Key. I appreciate that you stuck by me, even when you thought I was delirious with sleep depravation. I’ll get us extended downtime tonight—will that compensate?”
“You can repay my extravagant loyalty by dropping the words. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of your fellow countrymen, but what is this place?”
It was Baun’s turn to laugh. “You’ve never heard of the Teeth of Karnath?”
Key looked hurt. “Of course I have. And I know about Cheat Mountain, Foray Gorge, and the Valley of Pillars. My geography book dedicated a whole smeking paragraph to each one. For some reason they left out the part about trumpet ceremonies, special oaths, clan Sklain, or why Gammerans treat this place like a shrine instead of a tourist attraction.”
“As you’ve guessed, I’m a loyal citizen of Barnobia, but I’ve always dreamed of visiting the home of my ancestors. I grew up reading everything I could about Gammera, and especially Karnath. They lived in the forest just east of this basin.”
“Why did they move to Barnobia? For that matter, why doesn’t anyone live here anymore?”
“When Kolrad the Despot invaded Gammera he came down the coast. The forests and mountains of Karnath made excellent bases for resistance groups. They were too well hidden and Kolrad couldn’t afford the manpower to dig them all out. Kolrad’s conquest lost momentum in Gammera and Barnobia took advantage of this situation by joining the war. Kolrad needed to deal with Gammera quickly and ruthlessly so he could focus on the threat from Barnobia—so he took the Teeth of Karnath hostage.”
“How does someone take a mountain of rock hostage?” Key asked.
“He threatened to nuke it if any Gammerans were found in the Karnath region. He understood how strongly the Gammerans valued the site, especially the clans of Karnath. They met Kolrad’s deadline, but few withdrew to the coastal cities where he held control. Most climbed the mountains and joined the Barnobian army. My great-grandfather was a small child then, and he was evacuated to the safety of a refugee camp in Barnobia. The Barnobian presence, and the Gammerans that stayed to fight, were wiped out by the Despot. By the time Kolrad was defeated on Barnobian soil, very few natives of Karnath had survived. Barnobia granted the refugee Gammerans citizenship because of their war effort. But, it was two generations before my family could even afford to return to Gammera. By then, Karnath had been declared a national park.”
“Smeking unfair,” Key said. “Your own country taking your homes.”
“It’s not that bad,” Baun said. “Gammera gives land grants to any descendants who file a claim. But there are no homes to repossess. Kolrad leveled every city and destroyed every vestige of civilization in the Karnath valley. If I moved here I’d be all alone, without power, without communications, and no modern conveniences. How would I earn money? How would I feed myself?”
“You could run a tourist lodge,” Key said. “They probably flock to this place.”
“The park service already does that and a few Karnath survivors have already returned to do just that. It’s too late to compete in that market, and it’d cost a fortune to get started.”
“Admit it, Baunee boy. You’ve dreamed that dream at least once,” Key said.
Baun grinned. “This is today’s dream. To step inside the ring of teeth, and maybe see the Proctor’s Crystal Chamber.”
“That’s another thing, Baunee. The other Gammerans said you’ve made some kind of vow to a mythical creature named the Proctor. Ancestral pride I understand, but isn’t that a bit much?”
“I didn’t actually take the vow, I just inherited the job. Until I explicitly denounce the vow of my ancestors, it’s assumed that I am a guardian of Karnath. Why dishonor that heritage?”
“So do you believe that some winged monster once lived in these rocks? There have been a lot of claimed sightings. Daboni said his great grandfather actually spoke with the Proctor while visiting the Teeth of Karnath.”
“It’s like any other legendary creature—hallucinating crackpots, lonely souls wanting attention, or an excitable tourist who mistook a large bird in heavy fog.” Baun looked over his shoulder and was discouraged to see that their destination was still a long ways off. “What did Daboni’s great-grandfather say to the Proctor?”
Key grunted. “It asked grand-pappy Daboni if any sea ships has passed that way recently. Pappy shook his head before passing out. I think pappy falls into the ‘hallucinators’ group considering how far it is to the sea.”
Baun snorted. “Probably a ghost story to impress the younger Gammerans.”
“Yeah, that crusty old marine is just the type to spin a yarn like that. Even still, most legends are based on some fact. What do you think inspired the Proctor legends?”
They were almost in the center of the ring of stone teeth and Baun looked slowly around at the distant stone spires. “I don’t know, but a place this fantastic demands a legend. There’s nothing else like it, it’s so unnatural for a natural phenomenon, and nobody agrees why it’s here—let alone what it really is.”
“I think the meteor theory makes the most sense,” Key said thoughtfully. “A huge crystalline sphere hit thousands of years ago, the outer shell crumbling to form the gravelly basin. The mountains around the Karnath valley could be the walls of the impact crater. The teeth are what’s left of the central sphere. The teeth do look like a shattered stone ball.”
“But,” Baun said lifting a finger, “consider the mass of such a meteor. The impact would have thrown up enough dust to trigger an ice age. Besides, the shards would have been scattered for hundreds of miles, instead of being neatly distributed in a basin only a few dozen miles in diameter.”
“What’s your theory, then? Certainly you don’t believe that it floated down into this valley, do you?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” Baun shrugged, “but science hasn’t presented a theory yet that wasn’t full of holes. Mythology conveniently blames magic for all the unexplainable parts.”
“So, a huge stone ball miles wide drifted down, and then a winged monster flew up to it and smacked it with his magic staff?”
“That’s what they say. It was like a hard-boiled egg—a sphere within a sphere. The outer sphere shattered and slowly rained into the basin, revealing an inner sphere floating in mid-air. The Proctor gave that another whack, but only part of it crumbled, leaving the shape of the teeth. The broken inner sphere sank slowly into the billions of shards, until just the edges showed, and—” Baun swept his hand in a horizontal arc “—this!”
“And this Proctor swoops down on the pop-eyed, open-mouthed Gammerans watching the show and says ‘Greetings, neighbors.’” Key hooked one thumb in the strap of his shoulder holster and gestured to the ridge opposite them. “‘I’ll be living in the clefts of that rock there. Would some of you mind guarding the front yard? All volunteers step forward to take the oath.’”
Baun scowled. “I didn’t say I believed it, Key. It’s the most complete explanation, not the most convincing explanation.”
“Just add magic and stir, eh?” Key said.
Baun didn’t reply. A dozen yards away there was movement and Baun’s hand went to hover over his holster. The gravel swelled as if some creature were swimming just below the surface. It was moving fast, too fast to be a burrowing animal. It had been heading towards the camp, but it had changed course and advanced toward their sled. Baun could hear the growing rustle of shifting gravel as it approached and realized, in contrast, he couldn’t hear the digger crabs. They were frozen in awkward poses.
“Key?” Baun’s voice was taunt as he slowly unsnapped the holster and gripped his gun.
“Smek,” Key muttered, poking at the controls and glaring at the front digger crab. Even the sled had stopped dead.
“Key?” Baun’s raised his voice slightly, and slowly drew out the pistol without removing his eyes from the approaching swell.
“It’s stalled, bunkie. Give me a second.” Key slapped the side of the console as he continued to frown at it.
“Key!” Baun’s yell was tinged with anger. Key turned to see Baun standing on the sled, his gun pointed out into the basin. Key’s eyes followed the barrel of the gun and saw the approaching swell.
“Smek!” Key spat, fumbling with the shoulder holster and lurching to his feet. The swell was growing—not taller, but wider—like a small wave of an incoming tide. By the time Key had his gun aimed, the swell was rushing beneath the sled. Both men swiveled with guns outstretched, but the swell did not appear on the opposite side. Instead, the shards on the basin floor rattled like metallic rain, and the swell radiated away from the sled like a circular shock wave. Then it was silent.
“Back to back,” Baun whispered and both men inched to the center of the sled. With backs touching they scanned the area over their muzzles.
“Anything?” Key whispered.
“Nothing,” Baun whispered hoarsely. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t shaking. The tension inside his chest was like a coiled spring and he should be trembling like a ship in planetfall. His eyes strained at the shards, but not even the air was moving.
“Key, look at the shards,” Baun whispered.
“I am! I am!” Key growled quietly. “What else in smeking hell would I be looking at?”
“I mean, look at how they’re arranged.”
Key did look, and he saw. Every sliver of stone was lined up with its neighbor. As he let his eyes sweep the area he saw that their sled was in the center of a starburst pattern of positioned shards. He felt the hair on his arms rise and his skin began to tingle. Key realized it wasn’t an emotional reaction when he caught the smell of electricity in the air.
“Do you smell that?” Baun whispered. “Ozone.”
Key barely nodded, not realizing Baun couldn’t see his response. Then it was gone. The air around them seemed to relax, and a small breeze tickled their sweating skin. There was a quiet whir and the digging crabs slowly began to move. The sled began to glide forward, but both men stood frozen in place, arms strained outward. It was a full ten minutes before both men let their aching arms down, but no one holstered their weapon.
“What the smek was that, Baun?”
Before Baun could reply a roar filled the air. Both guns jerked skyward and targeted a space truck dropping from the sky.
“He’s coming in too fast,” Key growled. The truck dropped into the Teeth and fired its braking burners just before impact. It hovered for a moment before touching lightly on the ground. Baun noticed that Key was shaking with rage.
“What is it, Key?”
“Did you hear that small pop followed by a high pitched whine at the last? He’s blown the brake vents. The safeties won’t allow another take-off without a manual override. What slag-brain did they put at the helm? None of my bunkies would fly like that!”
“Smek,” Baun groaned with realization. “I bet it’s Barrad.”
Key put his hands to his head and moaned. “Ampado’s sent his fly-high here to torment us. That incident back there was probably some high-tech prank of Barrad’s.”
Baun slammed his gun into its holster with disgust. “I aged three years, back there.”
“Well, Commander Vadid will cork his burners. Chayna will dock his pay when she hears that Barrad’s show damaged that ship.” Key plopped into the seat at the front of the sled. “And maybe in a few minutes we’ll find him alone in a dark cavern passage and share our opinion of the gravel prank.”
By the time they pulled close to the air truck its pilot was long gone. Key jumped off the slowly lumbering sled and jogged over to the pilot’s side of the air truck. Pressing his palm against the ID pad, however, did not release the door. Key examined it for a puzzled moment and then jogged back to the sled and hopped back aboard.
“How did he do that?” Key mumbled.
“Lock it? Considering that we’re under high alert, I’d be surprised if it were unlocked.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t open for me! They reprogrammed all the locks when all the excitement began—standard procedure. It was specifically and recently re-keyed because my access is denied.”
“He’s Ampado’s pet, remember?” Baun said.
“Yeah, but he’s still an underling,” Key said. “Ampado doesn’t take petty requests from lieutenants. Smek, he bristles at the fact that he’s under the Prime Commander.”
“So? Ampado probably did it to irritate you.”
“Moski,” grunted Key. “That’d be beneath his dignity. Before you can hate someone, first you have to acknowledge that they exist. I’m not even a blip on his radar. He harasses every underling in his proximity. That’s to remind everyone of his rank. It’s never personal because he would be admitting you’re a person. Smek, it’s too degrading to remember our names, let alone to deem us worthy of targeted persecution. You, on the other hand, are definitely on his hit list.”
“I know only too well.” Baun pulled off his work gloves and looked at his right hand. It was completely covered in an intricate pattern of blue swirls. Behind him, he heard Key give a low whistle.
“Iyo! How far does that go up your arm?”
“I don’t know, really. When I showered for the Call to the Stones it was just the back of my hand.” Baun rolled up his sleeve. The blue spirals reached half way to his elbow.
“You’ll be covered by morning, Baunee boy. You really ought to have that looked at.”
“I guess so, but I don’t think it’s dangerous—except as a career hazard. Ampado was jubilant about the markings, and it would be a miracle if Strant doesn’t know about it by now. If it were truly dangerous, the Prime Commander would say something—no matter how mad he is at me.”
Key winced. “You’re on the bad side of both Ampado and the Prime Commander? No wonder you’re still just a yeoman.”
Baun’s face burned with shame and he quickly rolled the sleeve back down before jamming the glove over the guilty hand. Nobody understood. Nobody. Running errands for Strant, and for what? Empty promises. He’d be a lieutenant by now if he’d not fallen for Strant’s story. No, he’d be a vice lieutenant at least, maybe even a prime lieutenant. The top ten in his class were already vice lieutenants, and he’d graduated in the number one slot. Did his teacher’s realize that their commendation had condemned him to this humiliation?
“We’re here, bunkie.”
Baun didn’t even grunt an acknowledgement. This was too important a day to let an insult get in his way, but Key’s comment had chafed an extremely sore spot. Baun turned to examine the fissure in the cliff that led to the Crystal Chamber. Or a dead-end if there’d truly been a cave in. Metauli stood in the shade of the triangular entrance and waved to them. Baun nodded at Metauli and then let his eyes drift up the cliff that rose sharply in front of him. The mountainside was slightly convex, and the crest was topped with spires of stone that leaned precariously over their heads. Did the crags ever break loose? They were too far above to gauge their size, but certainly massive enough to make running a futile gesture.
“Bring the sled in, guys. The connection is quite a ways inside.” Behind Metauli three other marines watched impassively from their perches atop a pile of crates.
“Metauli,” Key called, “you told me the cavern caved in years ago. What’s the story?”
Metauli shrugged. “It still is, sorta. I guess they did it to keep tourists out. Wait till you see what they’ve done. By the way, Vadid said to run the cable along the wall, so it won’t be crushed by the heavy equipment.”
“Sure,” Key nodded. “Who came through here last?”
“He wouldn’t say much, but his name tag read ‘Quar.’ Friend of yours?”
“Hardly,” Key snorted. “How far back do we take this?”
“All the way. There aren’t any branches, so you can’t get lost. I have to stay here, but there will be someone waiting for you at the elevator.”
“Elevator?” Baun broke out of his angry meditations. “Then there’s access to the Crystal Chamber?” Metauli’s wide grin was the only answer, but it told Baun everything.
“You were right, Baunee boy.” Key said.
Baun didn’t reply, the wound was still stinging from Key’s comment. Instead he pulled a remote out of his pocket and began jabbing in new instructions. The digger crabs scrambled to the wall, and began covering the cable that was now being pressed next to the slanting wall. Key turned back to the controls and guided the sled down the triangular cave.
Along one wall were stacked many cases, crates, and occasionally an energy pack. The packs powered artificial lighting strung high overhead. The cave was like a long curving hallway, with both walls sloping inwards to meet far above their heads. The passage ran deep into the mountain, and soon the entrance to the fissure was no longer visible. Their progress, however, was much faster now since both digger crabs had only to throw a light covering of the ubiquitous gray shards over the cable.
The tunnel came to an abrupt dead end, blocked by a mountainous pile of the gray shards. It was obviously the location of the cave-in so many years ago. Baun’s heart sank for a moment, but his brain quickly reminded him that facts showed that there had to be more. Nearby two marines had arranged the crates to serve as table and chairs for a card game. Baun recognized Kedori Lefar from the afternoon’s ceremony, and gave him a nod as the sled pulled to a stop.
“Hello, hello!” Key said with an exaggerated wave. Kedori returned a minimal nod and carefully set his cards face down before standing up. He waited and watched his opponent, until the other marine reluctantly discarded a card and stood as well. Both soldiers approached the sled.
“Stow your digger crabs on the sled,” Kedori said to Baun, “and deactivate them. You don’t want them running when we open the door—they’d go crazy.” Turning to Key he said “Pull your sled all the way up shut it down until the ride is over.”
“Sure,” Key said a bit puzzled. He tapped his console and the sled slowly sank to the gravel floor with its nose just short of the cave-in. Baun tapped the face of his remote and sent the two crabs scurrying to nest by Key’s chair.
“And whatever you do,” Kedori said as he flipped open a nearby crate to reveal a control panel, “do not move from the sled. Stay on the sled until you’re through the door. Understood?” Kedori studied the control panel for a moment and made some adjustments before resting one hand next to a large switch. Then he turned his head upward to peer into the darkness high above their heads. Both Baun and Key followed his gaze, but they failed to see anything but blackness.
Then they were startled to see a huge iron shaft swing down silently into the dim light above their heads. They both flinched as it hurtled towards them, but with a hiss, its arc halted just behind their sled. At the end of the steel arm, like a gnarled fist, hung a huge and naked turbine. It looked like an engine from an ancient jet plane, when aerodynamics were still the major factor in flight. Huge copper coils wound around its exterior, and from the rear protruded long blue steel spikes that curved forward.
Key turned a dark glare at Kedori who watched them with a wicked smile.
“Cruel brand of humor, marine,” Key said.
Kedoni shrugged, “Gets boring sitting around, waiting to open and close doors. A fellow has to have a bit of fun now and then, eh?”
One of Key’s boots stepped off the sled and crunched on the gravel.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Kedori said. “The magnetic field is already building, and it’s real messy when it comes into contact with human flesh.” Behind the sled the long, curving spikes began to slowly rotate and there was a crackle in the air. Key dropped into the pilot’s chair and turned to glower at the wall of shards that filled the fissure ahead.
Baun followed Key’s lead and sat cross-legged next to the cable spool and locked eyes with the smirking Kedori. The edge in Kedori’s eyes betrayed the fact that the prank hadn’t been a friendly jest. In fact the glare Kedori leveled at Baun was distinctly colder than the one given to Key. It didn’t make sense that Kedoni would have a grudge against strangers. He searched his memory of ancient clan history, but he could remember no ancient feud between the families. But one historical event, did trigger an idea.
“Family Lefar befriends strangely, does it not?” Baun shouted over the growing hum. “We will confirm your loyalty to Barrad.” The air between them shimmered, but Baun could tell that it was more than the magnetic field that contorted Kedori’s face. The hum became a roar and Baun turned towards the turbine to see that it was a blur of motion now.
Baun watched as a circle of energy slowly passed over the sled and struck the wall of loose shards ahead. The stones began to stir, as if they floated in a swirling liquid. The vortex increased in diameter and a conical indent began to form in front of them. It looked as if they were inside a gigantic and invisible drill bit that bore through the loose stones. Slowly their sled was drawn forward and began sliding through the whirlpool-like opening in the shards.
“Now we know who pulled that moving gravel prank,” Key shouted above the noise.
As they shot through the swirling tunnel, the opening behind them shrank and cut off all light. For a brief moment they were in total darkness and Baun had the horrific thought that an enraged Kedori had sent them to their deaths. But then the spinning stones in front of them punctured the opposite side of the barrier, and light flooded in. They were greeted by another spinning turbine which pulled the sled relentlessly as if by an invisible cord. As they exited, the turbine, still spinning, swung up and away into the dark recesses of the fissure. They both sat stunned, adjusting to the sudden quiet.
“Baunee boy, the way you make friends, you’ll be a yeoman for the rest of your life.”
The muscles in Baun’s jaw rippled, and he ripped off his gloves and slammed them on the sled. With rough twists he undid the latches that held the cable spool and then gave it a swift kick so that it rolled off the sled. He turned to a confused Key, and let his teeth grind for a moment.
“I get enough rank flak from Ampado. If you’re going to sing his song, just stay here. Get that nap you were cheated of.” He didn’t wait for a response but activated the digger crabs, who scrambled off the sled. Then Baun snatched a yoke from the sled and snapped it onto the spool and began wheeling the cable reel down the passage.
Baun had pushed the spool for about twenty spaces when he heard the hum of the sled over the sound of the digger crabs. He kept his eyes locked forward, even when he heard the soft sound of Key clearing his throat.
“Baun?”
“What?” Baun snapped.
“Sorry about that comment. I didn’t mean any hurt by it. I didn’t realize that you . . . that the tests . . .”
Baun filled in the words, “. . . that I’d failed my advancement tests?” Baun stopped pushing the spool and turned to look at Key, whose sled slowed to a stop next to Baun.
“No!” Key flushed at the words. “I mean, if I’d known—if your—it’s just that . . .”
“I didn’t fail any of my tests, Key.” Baun said. His words were calm, drained of the previous angry edge. As Baun resumed pushing the spool he said “I made perfect scores on all my tests.”
“Oh,” Key said quietly. He pulled the sled alongside Baun and watched him.
Baun said “You say that as if you meant ‘Oh, I understand.’ Do you?”
“No.” Key let out a long sigh. “Put me on the plumb—or is it classified?”
“It’s not restricted, but is very confidential . . and very personal.”
Key nodded but didn’t reply and pretended to study the sled’s console. Baun continued to wheel the spool with a deep look of introspection. Baun slowed to a stop and stood staring at the spool he was pushing. After a moment he looked up at Key and said “I chose to remain a yeoman.”
Baun resumed pushing the spool. After a few minutes Baun looked a Key and gave him a mirthless smile. “We share a similar problem, eh Key?”
“Ampado?”
“There is that, but I meant that our worth is judged by irrelevant factors. People look at your mass of muscles and assume a tiny brain. People look at my insignia, or rather the lack of it, and assume I’m a failure.”
Baun weighed the risks of telling Key. But heavier than logic was pure personal discomfort. He’d known Key for a day—or was it two days now? His head refused to calculate the number of hours. The meager effort backfired and instead he realized how long it had been since he’d slept, and exhaustion crawled up his legs and into his chest. His emotions were too stunned to feel grief, and his intellect knew of no reason to feel sorrow, and yet he felt tempted to just cry. Even if Key could be trusted, Baun couldn’t trust himself to tell the story in this state.
“I’ll tell you about it some day, Key, but it’s a complex story. Right now my energy cells are nearly depleted, and if I stop to tell that tale, I’ll fall asleep standing. Let’s get this over with and take our much deserved nap.”
Key nodded. “You didn’t eat, did you, Baunee?”
“I grabbed a fruit drink,” Baun sighed. “I should have drowned stim pills in it first.”
Key did not reply, because they had stepped into a large chamber with a roughly domed ceiling. Squeezed against the walls were about a dozen freight sleds like their own. What dominated the scene, however, was the blackness of a circular pit in the center of the chamber’s floor. It was about 30 feet in diameter, and at the far edge steps spiraled down into the large shaft. At the edge closest to them, level with the lip of the shaft, an elevator platform floated. The elevator was a disk of dimpled steel that filled less than half of the pit’s expanse. A metal handrail ringed the elevator platform, and there were four podiums-like mounting brackets at each compass point along the platform’s perimeter. A dimly lit control panel capped the podium that stood near the handrail’s entrance gap. Long curving steel poles punctuated the handrail, and perched atop each one was a darkened floodlight.
Key parked his sled next to the others that ringed the chamber and ran to help Baun mount the spool of cable to one of the empty podiums. Baun threaded its cable through a nearby wiring harness that already held a dozen cables of various diameters and color-coded sheathings. After a final check, Baun nodded to Key who activated the platform.
The floodlights came alive and the platform began to sink. As Baun studied the spiraling staircase, he noted that the steps were carved from the same ancient rock that surrounded them. As they descended, the staircase would occasionally intersect a sealed passage. Like the stairs, these passages were rough and ancient openings. The polyfoam that sealed each entrance, however, was recent. Embedded into the polyfoam, one green eye blinking, clung a fist-sized integrity monitor.
Key kept their descent slow so that the crabs, crawling down the side of the shaft, could thread the cable through the stress relieving harnesses mounted on the walls. Baun could tell by the lay of the cables that the pit wasn’t perfectly vertical, which explained why a floating elevator platform had been used. He was thankful that they had not been forced to use the spiral stairs, which would have lengthened their task to a near eternity. But even with the elevator platform, Baun was beginning to suspect that the shaft had no end.
“What if we run out of cable, bunkie?” Key asked.
“Commander Vadid will send us back for a bigger spool—we’ll have to start again.”
Key snorted. “That’s Ampado’s style. Chayna won’t play that card.”
“Unless she’s as tired as we are. She was pretty tense in debriefing. Add sleep deprivation, and she might be cranky enough to throw us in the brig.”
Key looked wistful. “Sweet-more! At least we’d get some blackout.”
Their satirical prophecies went silent as they dropped into a well lit chamber, and the platform clanged into place with a mooring station. The crabs curled up on the floor to sleep and in the new quiet they could hear muffled sounds of work. The noise filtered from a crevice in the far wall. Baun and Key removed the cable spool from the handrail and carried it down the steps to the cavern floor.
“Seems to be the only exit,” Baun said as he rolled the spool toward the passage.
“They’ve got a dozen cables run down here already. What was so all-fired important about ours?”
“It’s a comm relay, or data connection, I think. The unique combination of metal and crystal in all this stone makes it impossible to broadcast a signal—especially from this deep.”
“Just how deep down are we, Baunee? I expected magma after that long of a drop.”
Baun did not answer, for there was a muffled crash ahead. All the lights blinked out, and the perfection of the blackness ripped thought from his mind. In the first eternal fraction, every sense was stunned into shutdown by the drowning darkness that only the underground can conjure. Between heartbeats Baun’s hands eased from their frozen pose. In the clinging blackness, his hearing groggily struggled to its post and he became aware of distant voices.
“Sorry!”
“Everyone, sit on the ground and stay still. Let the marines restore the power.” It was the voice of Chayna Vadid.
“Smek!” A man’s voice blurted as it was followed by a metallic crunch.
“Be still!” Chayna shouted. “Bruise your shins on your own time, not on my shift. If you slag-brains stumble over another piece of equipment, I’m going to redefine your definition of pain. Understood?”
“The area’s clear.” It was the seasoned voice of Daboni. “That pilot tripped over the power coupling, that’s all.”
The lights came back on and Baun heard Key released a gust of air. In a few steps, they were at the entrance of the next cavern, but the back of Commander Vadid, who faced Barrad Quar, blocked their path. The lieutenant stood at full attention.
“Ampado oversees the flight deck, not inventory. Technical equipment is my jurisdiction.”
“I’m sorry, commander, but I have signed orders.” Barrad pulled a small tablet from his breast pocket and handed it to Commander Vadid. She took it and read it.
“The arrogance!” Chayna thrust the tablet into Barrad’s chest. “Ampado lost his bid for prime commander years ago. Strant Kleric won that post because he did not bully people. Until Commander Suel outranks me, those orders are the vain blusterings of a megalomaniac. Now get out of here before you trip over another power coupling.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Barrad saluted, took the tablet poking into his chest, and said, “I’ll get my jacket immediately.” With another nervous salute he ducked back into the chamber.
“Ampado’s obsessed,” Chayna muttered after Barrad was gone.
“Pardon, commander?” Key said, pretending that he’d just arrived. She turned on the duo and brightened when she saw the spool of cable.
“Good, you’re here! Yeoman, take that inside the chamber and reel it along the left wall with the other cables. At the opposite end of the chamber ask for a Lieutenant Eevad, and tell him the comm cable is here.”
She looked at Key’s nametag and continued. “Pilot Troyaz, I need you to deliver some comm repeaters to the surface. Stay here and don’t let anyone leave until I get back—I want you on the very next trip.”
As she left, Baun turned to Key with an evil smile. “You get to share that long elevator ride with Barrad.”
Key looked at the ceiling and moaned, then said, “Smek. I bet it’ll be just me and that fly-high.” Key sighed, but then smiled at Baun. “But! I get to watch him launch that space truck, bunkie! He blew out the brake vents, remember? His burners are corked until I override the safeties! Chayna’s going to dock that show-off, and I get a front row seat.”
Baun just shook his head and started rolling the spool towards the chamber entrance.
“See you top side, Baunee boy. I’ll be with Metauli, waiting.”
When Baun stepped into the brightly lit chamber, he inhaled so fast and deep that his lungs stung. In the center of the domed room stood the legendary creature of Karnath—the Proctor.