"Stormwarden: The Final Commission - Entry 2/4"

Copyright © 2021 - Cover art and written content by J.E. Maurice (unless otherwise credited) - All rights reserved by the creator. Reposting is permitted as long as proper credit is given (I.E., a link to the original story and/or links to the author's social sites.)

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I apprehensively examined each glass cylinder as I moved through the room, searching for an object that resembled the image of the Qornox that U’sevig had provided to us; how he had obtained said image was undisclosed to us, but was likely via some underhanded means. Each artifact contained within the vitric crystal tubes was stranger than the last, containing everything from ancient, steam-powered cyborg parts to lucent, crystalline obelisks. It was not until my gaze fell on a levitating spheroid, which pulsated with blue light, that I spoke to Zach again.

("The Artifact Room" by J.E. Maurice)

“Zach,” I murmured, pointing to it. “I see it. It’s in this glass casing right here. Can you see me?”

“Um, hold on,” Zach mumbled distractedly, and I could hear the clicking of his keyboard. “Yeah, I can see now. Let me try to open that casing.”

The soft sounds of clacking resumed as he frantically assessed his options to bypass this obstacle. While he toiled away, my eyes were drawn to a large table beside the artifact’s enclosure, and my curiosity was piqued. Two flasks containing oddly colored liquid sat adjacent to a metallic glove, and I began to wonder what their function was. My attention was ripped away by a whirring noise, and I refocused on the glass shell as the tube retracted into the slim overhang above.

“Got it!” said Zach with exhilaration in his voice. “Grab that thing, and let’s make ourselves scarce.”

I advanced towards our prize, and outstretched my hand for it. However, being fairly short, I was embarrassed to find that the Qornox hovered in the air, just out of my reach; Zach’s snickers of amusement were profusely irksome as I realized he was still watching me. Using the nearby table as an extemporaneous stepladder, I clambered across it, and wrapped my fingers around the Qornox. It felt frigid in my hand as I drew it back to myself; it chilled the air around it like dry ice, and I shivered. Strange markings were etched into the spheroid’s metallic surface, slowly oscillating with bright blue light, and its beauty captivated me for a moment before I regained my composure.

“Alright,” I said, overwrought. “Do I just go back the way I came, Zach?”

Zach swore, suddenly sounding alarmed. “That’s not gonna work,” he said. “We’ve got guards headed straight towards you from there.”

“How did you not see them coming?” I hissed, frantically looking around for somewhere I might take cover. “I thought you were monitoring the security cams.”

“I’ll see if there’s another way for you to get out,” he carried on, as if he had not heard me. “Find somewhere to hide.”

My gaze darted around the room, but every potential hiding place was more conspicuous than the last, and I was running out of time. The cyborg sentries would investigate every corner of the chamber, and there was no hideaway in sight that would keep me concealed for more than a couple seconds at most. With a high-pitched whistle, the hatch I had entered through earlier sprung open again, and two cyborgs dressed in heavy trench coats stepped into the room.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” demanded a familiar voice. The cyborg on the left moved into the shimmering light of the containment tubes, and I instantaneously recalled where we had met once before. It was Wendevil, but the passively friendly expression that his face had worn previously was replaced by a rictus of rage. His one robotic eye gleamed amber as he stalked forward, the other cyborg only one pace behind him. Her hair was cut short, and her olive skin was almost overtaken by the metal plating that wrapped around her face and neck.

“Zach,” I hissed. “I’m very quickly running out of time here.”

“I don’t see another exit,” he responded. “You’ll have to get around them somehow.”

“Hand the Qornox over now,” the female cyborg insisted, glowering at me with genuine malice. As the cyborgs closed in on me with long strides, I made an attempt to dart around them, but Wendevil clotheslined me to the concrete floor with his robotic arm. My vision blurred as my head collided violently with the cold ground, sending my earpiece flying. I felt intensely lightheaded as I was lifted from the floor by Wendevil’s frigid fingers, which clutched around my throat, the Qornox slipping from my feeble grasp.

“I remember you,” he rumbled, watching me fight against his grip. “You attended our sacrament. I knew there was something off about you. You don’t buy into that religion like the rest of those zombies out there. Who do you work for?”

I swung both legs over his extended arm as he held me aloft, and used them as leverage to pull myself within reach of his face. I struck out blindly, raking my claws across his sole non-robotic eye. He dropped me without hesitation, crying out in pain as he clasped his bleeding eye. I hit the ground with a dull thud again, and I heard him cursing at me as I picked myself up. The other cyborg had been in the process of retrieving the Qornox, which rested on the floor beside the table I had climbed on earlier. I dashed towards her as she turned around, alerted by her ally’s bellows.

“Eris!” Wendevil thundered. “Watch out!”

She was not quick enough to react. I body-slammed her with as much force as I could muster, and—despite her having around thrice my weight—my attack sent her stumbling backwards. I dove for the fallen artifact, latching onto it with both hands as Eris staggered into the nearby table; she took hold of the metallic glove that sat on the tabletop, and slipped it over her hand as we turned to face each other.

The momentary silence was tense as we met each other’s determined gaze. She raised the gauntlet, orienting it toward me, and out from its palm billowed a spiraling shockwave of energy. I felt myself lifted off the ground, and hurled across the room, caught inside the sudden, violent change in air pressure. I distantly felt my frame collide with a hard surface, and saw nothing but a white flash behind my eyelids.

A moment later, I opened my eyes, and found myself prostrate on the ground, sprawled out nearly thirty feet from where I had been standing an instant before. Ears buzzing, and heart pounding, I refocused my eyes on the room around me. The Qornox was still clutched in my quivering hand, and my fingers gripped it perseveringly; my gaze flitted in all directions—frantically searching for an escape route—until it found an unanticipated savior. A humming ventilation duct was situated in the gray wall just behind me, and inspiration struck. I heaved myself up to my feet, slipping my purloined relic into one of my many pockets. Even through the ringing in my ears, I could discern heavy steps approaching from behind as I unceremoniously wrenched the slatted vent cover from its corresponding inlet, and tossed it aside. I hoisted my body up into the newly exposed aperture, panting from the exertion.

I paid no mind to the receding shouts of the irate guards, or to the thick carpet of dust that overlaid every inch of the ductwork as I pulled myself forward. The interior of the passage was narrow and frigid, and the further I advanced, the more the ambient light from the other room ebbed away, diminishing into unmitigated darkness; crawling through the shadowy confines was interminable, and many times I had to halt to regain my composure, my strained breaths echoing throughout the snaking, metal ducts that held me.

It was only when I detected a soft strike of metal on metal that a dim light suddenly filtered in from somewhere, allowing me to see again. I craned my neck in the cramped space, attempting to locate the origin of the phosphorescence. The Qornox gleamed like a cobalt ember in the blackness, the symbols etched on its surface glowing without a detectable rise in temperature. I seized the object, and held it ahead of me, scattering the dark away.

I continued on in the lambency of my newfound companion, and arrived momentarily at a convergence of several tunnels; I halted to think, listening attentively. The thrum of a large, motorized fan revolving in the left tunnel was enough to persuade me to choose another path. I lifted my hand into the intersection of tubes, testing the direction of the icy draft. It was coming from the right, and I immediately wedged myself around the narrow corner to follow it. I was nowhere near confident that this was my way out; the series of ducts was far too convoluted for certainty, but it was my best lead.

At length, the dark waned as I approached the end of the tunnel, the illumination of the city streets outside reflecting into the labyrinthine ductwork. I crawled my way down the slight incline, and found my path obstructed by an exterior panel; through its slats, I could see a gloomy alley just inches away from where I lay, trapped. With an outburst of effort, I struck the barrier from the inside, whaling on it in the hopes that the blows would loosen it from its frame. My futile efforts were interrupted by the sound of something scuttering about in the alley, and I froze as a shadow fell over me from the outside. I was preparing to retreat at a moment’s notice when a very familiar pair of dark orange eyes came into view.

“I was about to assume they got you, and get the hell outta here,” said Zach, his pale skin appearing almost blue in the cold light of the alleyway. I grunted, unamused, as he hastily unpacked a crowbar from his satchel, and began to pry the panel from its frame. With the ideal leverage on his side, he succeeded without travail, and gently lowered the detached panel to the ground, as to not cause a clatter. I slowly dragged myself out of the duct, and into the alley.

("The Alleyway" by J.E. Maurice)

The narrow lane between the two large buildings was faintly illuminated; the muted light primarily emanated from a glowing pressure gauge, which was connected to a network of pipes that ran the length of the temple’s outer wall in every direction. The tenebrous sky was saturated with thunderclouds, making the nighttime as black as obsidian.

“Damn, you look awful,” Zach remarked, looking me up and down as I picked myself up. “What happened to you?”

“I got the shit beaten out of me,” I explained, winded and aching. “I had to improvise, and use the vents. But I got what we came for,” I added, raising the Qornox into view with a halfhearted flourish. Zach pumped his fist in the air as he stared at the artifact, biting back a shout of glee. I held it aloft for him to examine, and even he was stunned by its allure. His enthusiasm coaxed a small smile out of me despite myself.

“That’s a huge relief,” said Zach, turning to pack up the last of his equipment into his satchel. “I was radioing you for status updates for the past fifteen minutes. Why didn’t you answer me?”

“My earpiece fell out,” I said shortly, still trying to catch my breath.

“Damn,” Zach said again, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. “Those things aren’t cheap, man.”

“Oh, sorry,” I retorted, irritation flashing through me at his apathetic tone. “That was rude of me not to consider when the guards were smashing my head into the floor.”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Zach conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. He popped the collar up on his dark red jacket for additional shelter against the growing gale. “You’re right. Let’s just get outta here, I’m sure those guards’ll be swarming this place any minute. I’ll be able to buy a thousand of those earpieces with my share of the reward anyway.”

I nodded as we both turned to leave, heading towards the street. I considered our next move; the Vallume syndicate would stop at nothing to find us, I had little doubt about that. The most prudent action seemed to be an immediate rendezvous with Segnur U’sevig to receive our payment, and then using those newly acquired finances to disappear. My thought to bring this up to Zach was impeded by the abrupt sensation of an arm wrapping around my throat. I struggled for air, dropping the Qornox as I fought against my attacker. My attempts to call out for Zach to help me ceased as a nauseating realization seized me.

My assailant’s arm was covered by the sleeve of a dark red jacket.

Despite my aching joints, a surge of adrenaline allowed me to act swiftly, jamming my right elbow into Zach’s abdomen as he attempted to strangle me from behind. He grunted and cried out as I whirled around, swiping at his face with my claws. He staggered backwards, holding his bleeding cheek with one hand, and gripping his crowbar in the other. Weak in the knees, I swayed unsteadily towards the outer wall of Vallume, placing one hand against the building to keep myself upright.

“Is this about me calling you an albino porcupine?” I asked, hiding my distress behind a wall of sarcasm. “Because I stand by that description.”

“Not even close, you stupid git,” Zach answered coldly as he hovered over my stooping form. “I want both shares of the reward. It’s no guarantee that U’sevig will give me your half if you don’t make it through the mission, but that’s a gamble I’m willing to take.”

Zach took a pace forward, brandishing his crowbar with violent intent. My hand against the brick wall found its way to a rusted pipe, which shifted loosely in its fitting as I touched it. My fingers curled around it as Zach closed in on me. Gripping the pipe tightly, I forcefully dislodged it from the wall, retaliating with full strength; the pipe collided with the side of Zach’s head with a grisly thud, and he barely made a noise as he crumpled to the ground, a halo of blood pooling around his head that mixed with the rainwater.

Breathing heavily, I let the pipe fall to the pavement, dread flowing over me. I felt queasy, and averted my eyes from Zach’s corpse. On a conscious level, I knew I was justified in protecting my life from one who would take it away, but that scarcely made it easy; to pretend so would be facile and callous. Amid the sound of the storm above, and my own thundering heartbeat, I heard sirens in the distance. Though they likely had nothing to do with me, they spooked me into action nonetheless. I refocused my attention to my next course of action. The dropped Qornox was unchallenging to locate, still shimmering brightly through the downpour of rain. I scooped it up, squinting against its light.

There was a series of soft, mechanical ticking noises, followed by a whir of a diminutive motor. My brow furrowed in uncertainty as the spheroid split horizontally into two impeccably even sections. The bottom segment remained in my hand as the top one began to levitate slowly, rising far above its bottom half, revealing a ball of blue energy within, which hummed and crackled with electricity. With another sharp click, the sections divided again, and then a fourth time, hovering around me in the powerful gravitational pull of the magnificently shining orb. A forcefield extended beyond them, creating a hazy bubble that shielded me from the torrent of raindrops that cascaded from above. I raised my free hand to shield my eyes from the light, my mouth agape with awe.

("The Artifact" by J.E. Maurice & Crystalberry)

“What the hell is this thing?” I asked myself, my hushed tone barely audible above the thrumming of the energy. I stood in silence for a moment, now wondering how to reseal the artifact. I certainly would not be able to conceal it in its current state, it was far too conspicuous; I only had to make it back to my employers, and the responsibility would be off of my shoulders.

With a sudden sputter of life, the Qornox tore me from my musing. I refocused in an instant, but I was too late to act as the relic’s energy formed itself into a thin ray, which projected onto my sternum, piercing through my clothes like a needle. I could feel the white-hot current seeping into my chest, and spreading to the rest of my body through my searing bloodstream. It lasted for a mere moment, like the flicker of a candle, before the pieces of the Qornox—still suspended in the air—twisted back together, resealing themselves seamlessly.

The silence that followed was deafening as I gaped at the object in my hand. It was nothing more than a spheroid again, decorated with the same curious etchings on its surface; it was identical to its original form in every aspect, but with one notable exception. The gleam had disappeared completely, leaving behind a lightless ball of metal. It no longer shone in the dark like a cerulean firebrand, but seemed lifeless and empty.

A deluge of dizziness rushed through me, causing my balance to waver. My vision swam, and a feverish sensation swept over me in waves. Using the nearest wall for support, I gradually made my way to the end of the alley, and began plodding away from Vallume. Lightheaded, I made a sharp turn into a building at random; I was soaked from the rain as I trudged through the lobby of what appeared to be some sort of nightclub. I absentmindedly slipped the Qornox into my pocket to keep it from prying eyes.

("Capital Nights" by J.E. Maurice)

“Whoa, you alright?” said a rough voice to my left. I turned sluggishly to face whoever had spoken to me, and met the gaze of a bipedal insectoid. His hard exoskeleton was draped in loose clothing, and his colorless eyes observed me warily from behind the counter he was stationed at. He appeared to be some sort of barkeep for this establishment.

“I’m fine,” I lied breathlessly. “I just need to sit for a second.”

He nodded at me slowly as I slid onto one of the several tall stools that fringed the outside of the quadrilateral bar. I placed my elbows on the countertop, and rested my brow in my hands, wishing that my head would stop spinning. The nightclub’s thumping music undoubtedly was not helping.

“You wanna drink?” the insectoid inquired, sounding marginally concerned. “Or a towel, maybe?” he added, upon noticing I was drenched from the tempest outside. I lifted my head up, analyzing my surroundings as well as I could manage in my current condition. There was a small stage to the far right that housed an android performer, who was entertaining a small crowd with his act. Patrons of all kinds were in sitting or standing positions around the brightly illuminated counter, conversing together or appreciating the music in silence. Though dotted with an array of lighting, the nightclub was predominantly shrouded in darkness, especially around the corners of the vast room.

“Is there a bus station close to here?” I asked the bartender, returning my attention to his compound eyes. At this juncture, my prime objective was to get as far away from here as possible, and I knew walking would not be an option until I regained full control of myself.

“There’s one out back,” replied the insectoid. “You sure you’re alright, pal? You’re looking a bit worse for wear.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks,” I answered, unsteadily stepping down off the barstool. “I’m just going to take the bus home.”

“Hold on a second, fella,” he said, holding up a clawed hand to prevent my departure. I raised an eyebrow as he leaned down, disappearing behind the counter. After a moment, he returned to his full height with a large towel slung over his forearm; he draped it over my shoulders in one fluid motion. I blinked at him in astonishment.

“Keep that over your head and shoulders when you go out,” he said. “Or you’ll catch a nasty chill in this weather.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, pulling the plush towel tighter around me. I felt lightheaded even now, but the towel prompted me to feel fairly better nonetheless. With a good-natured nod towards me, he returned to taking drink orders from the expanding throng of patrons around the counter. Being gracile, weaving my way through the crowd was practically effortless, even in my dizzied condition.

("Lumières Capitales" by J.E. Maurice)

I slipped out the back door, passing through the poorly illuminated exit, and into the chilly air of the outside. The storm had subsided, leaving a stillness in the atmosphere, gentle mist falling from above. I lumbered towards the neon-inlaid bus stop, which stood alongside the road, several yards away from the back of the nightclub. A small bus sat in anticipation of its departure, and several individuals stood just outside its door, waiting for their opportunity to embark. I reached the back of the line with some difficulty, now straining to keep my eyes open.

With a loud whir of its hydraulics, the hatch slid open smoothly, and I boarded the shuttle in the company of the other passengers. With one final effort, I trudged to the very back of the bus, and dropped wearily into a window seat; shivering slightly, I wrapped myself in the towel from the bar, suddenly feeling thankful again for the bartender’s act of altruism. I let my head lean against the window as the gentle tapping of raindrops on the other side of the glass began. My eyelids drooped against my will as the bus lurched into movement with a low grumble, and gradually disappeared into the foggy night.

. . . . . . . .