Read Online The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) by Chris Eisenlauer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chris Eisenlauer
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fear crept into him. He wanted to respect Chan Fa’s sovereignty here, but there was nothing to do except drop down inside the walls and make his way into the catacomb network of giant iron cubes that characterized the city’s infrastructure. This would certainly increase his chances of being considered an intruder with designs on Chan Fa’s territory, but he saw no other alternative.
Down upon the ground—which, like the rest of the city, was of dark, burnished iron, perfectly smooth—Peshil resumed his human shape and made the disturbing realization that there were no people anywhere. He hadn’t known what to expect on arrival, but now two thoughts competed in his mind: either Chan Fa had eaten every last one of his subjects, or he was in fact dead, with his legend outliving him and perhaps having an existence more vital than the Shield himself.
The conglomerations of cubes rose up to form an irregular skyline. Peshil took a deep breath and advanced towards the first of the huge structures which looked as though it allowed entry into the rest. Indeed, there was an open aperture three meters tall and wide directly before him. There may have been doors or shutters of some sort at one time, but now there was nothing but a square hole lit from within.
Orange lava light whorled in slow motion giving the interior a surreal, dreamlike quality. Peshil crossed the threshold into a great hall one hundred meters high, wide, and long. At the far end was an elevated desk that was clearly the focal point and which had the bearing of an alter. Behind this were ten open doorways, evenly spaced along the back wall, presumably leading off into various routes through the cube city. Between Peshil and this desk, however, the ruined floor gaped and revealed a lava flow not fifteen meters below.
Given the pristine state of the rest of the city, Peshil guessed that someone—Chan Fa—had done this deliberately. The iron floor looked as though it had been about a meter thick, but this was impossible to ascertain, since all the edges had been curled under. The strength required to rend something of such scale humbled him. He stood at the edge closest to him and peered down. The flow was actually a wide stream that twisted and turned with porous black stone banks on either side.
Peshil suddenly felt dizzy and blinked several times to try to focus his vision.
Laughter echoed through the chamber, startling him. He made to straighten, to look around for the source, but found that he could not move from his bent position, looking down towards the lava stream.
“Chan Fa!” he cried. “It can only be Chan Fa! Please, I come not as a threat, I swear it. Why can’t I move?”
The laughter returned. When it died out, a harsh voice replied, echoing from far off, “You cannot move because I fill the entrance to my territory with venom at the start of each day.”
Peshil’s breath came with greater and greater effort. “I-I must. . . speak with you.”
More laughter.
Peshil couldn’t keep his eyes open or maintain a clear thought. Perhaps it was the heat accelerating the effects of the venom or perhaps it was the venom itself. He knew the risks in coming here. He’d been lucky with Sera Fontessa. Any other Shield would have turned him away or challenged him outright. He’d done what he could for Thrax Palonis. He grinned inwardly at the recollection of his last meal and then toppled down from the floor’s edge into the viscous orange light.
• • •
When Peshil awoke, he was shocked to be alive. He had a gash on his forehead that was already caked with dried blood and he had trouble moving his left arm, but otherwise he lived, somehow managing to land upon a craggy bank, somewhat protected from the heat of the lava stream by a rising lip of rock. He stood on shaky legs and saw that the banks on both sides continued onwards, winding out of sight. He was pretty sure that the stream and this cavern or series of caverns extended to
Down upon the ground—which, like the rest of the city, was of dark, burnished iron, perfectly smooth—Peshil resumed his human shape and made the disturbing realization that there were no people anywhere. He hadn’t known what to expect on arrival, but now two thoughts competed in his mind: either Chan Fa had eaten every last one of his subjects, or he was in fact dead, with his legend outliving him and perhaps having an existence more vital than the Shield himself.
The conglomerations of cubes rose up to form an irregular skyline. Peshil took a deep breath and advanced towards the first of the huge structures which looked as though it allowed entry into the rest. Indeed, there was an open aperture three meters tall and wide directly before him. There may have been doors or shutters of some sort at one time, but now there was nothing but a square hole lit from within.
Orange lava light whorled in slow motion giving the interior a surreal, dreamlike quality. Peshil crossed the threshold into a great hall one hundred meters high, wide, and long. At the far end was an elevated desk that was clearly the focal point and which had the bearing of an alter. Behind this were ten open doorways, evenly spaced along the back wall, presumably leading off into various routes through the cube city. Between Peshil and this desk, however, the ruined floor gaped and revealed a lava flow not fifteen meters below.
Given the pristine state of the rest of the city, Peshil guessed that someone—Chan Fa—had done this deliberately. The iron floor looked as though it had been about a meter thick, but this was impossible to ascertain, since all the edges had been curled under. The strength required to rend something of such scale humbled him. He stood at the edge closest to him and peered down. The flow was actually a wide stream that twisted and turned with porous black stone banks on either side.
Peshil suddenly felt dizzy and blinked several times to try to focus his vision.
Laughter echoed through the chamber, startling him. He made to straighten, to look around for the source, but found that he could not move from his bent position, looking down towards the lava stream.
“Chan Fa!” he cried. “It can only be Chan Fa! Please, I come not as a threat, I swear it. Why can’t I move?”
The laughter returned. When it died out, a harsh voice replied, echoing from far off, “You cannot move because I fill the entrance to my territory with venom at the start of each day.”
Peshil’s breath came with greater and greater effort. “I-I must. . . speak with you.”
More laughter.
Peshil couldn’t keep his eyes open or maintain a clear thought. Perhaps it was the heat accelerating the effects of the venom or perhaps it was the venom itself. He knew the risks in coming here. He’d been lucky with Sera Fontessa. Any other Shield would have turned him away or challenged him outright. He’d done what he could for Thrax Palonis. He grinned inwardly at the recollection of his last meal and then toppled down from the floor’s edge into the viscous orange light.
• • •
When Peshil awoke, he was shocked to be alive. He had a gash on his forehead that was already caked with dried blood and he had trouble moving his left arm, but otherwise he lived, somehow managing to land upon a craggy bank, somewhat protected from the heat of the lava stream by a rising lip of rock. He stood on shaky legs and saw that the banks on both sides continued onwards, winding out of sight. He was pretty sure that the stream and this cavern or series of caverns extended to
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