*
Ōbhin limped up the ramp. Despite the topaz healer bound to the outside of his left ankle, each step hurt. He gritted teeth as he followed the others up the ramp. It had a curving sweep that opened onto a street cracked and pitted. The road had sunk lower than the ramp’s terminus, creating a drop Ōbhin’s height. Dualayn scrambled over the edge, grunting and groaning while Dajouth leaped down.
Ōbhin slid off the edge, gripped it with his hands, and landed on his right leg, fighting to keep from putting weight on his left. Off-balance, he crashed to his right only to be caught by Miguil.
“Got you,” he said, his strong hands gripping Ōbhin’s arm. “I got you.”
“Thanks,” Ōbhin said, leaning on the other man for a moment. He cursed in his native tongue against the fresh wave of pain.
“Now that is promising,” Dualayn said. He had picked up something from the ground. A sign of some sort. It was stamped into a silvery metal that didn’t tarnish like others. “Hall of Communication is to our left.”
Ōbhin limped on.
The sides of the collapsed road revealed broken pipes buried beneath the street. Some were big enough for a child to crawl through. The trench ran for nearly four hundred cubits, a makeshift tunnel before it ended at a ramp leading up.
They found a small void created by collapsed debris. In it, a door rusted in its frame. It didn’t budge. Ōbhin’s sword cut through it. On the other side lay a barricade of rotting furniture. They hauled clear a path and entered.
A dozen skeletons, with bits of flesh remaining, were strewn through the room. Some seemed to be huddled together in fear. At the stairs, they found another demon, warmth radiating from its scaled hide. Traces of red bled through the black decay of its scales.
“Fascinating, the way it still radiates heat,” said Dualayn as Ōbhin limped past to head upstairs.
“Not why we’re here,” he reminded him, worry gnawing at him for Avena.
The next floor was a mess. Fighting had happened here. Sections of walls didn’t look like they had collapsed but had been battered down. Bones lay scattered everywhere, dozens of skulls, and the bodies of two more demons. Other walls looked charred, and the debris littering the floor looked like an inferno had swept over them. The upper floors were gone, perhaps burned.
“Do you hear that?” asked Miguil as they neared an exit on the far side of the building from where they entered. “Thudding.”
Ōbhin knelt down. He pulled off the glove of his right hand without hesitation. There were no women around, so no need to maintain his modesty. He pressed his naked palm to the floor, fingers pushing dust out of the way.
It vibrated with a rhythmic pattern. Footsteps. He swallowed as he glanced up at Dualayn. The man looked like he was straining to hear, hand cupped over his ear. Miguil’s face, despite the coat of gray dust, had a green tinge to it, his free hand clutching his stomach.
“Crystalman,” groaned Dajouth. “That’s what you’re hearing, ain’t it?”
Ōbhin, over his pounding heartbeat, heard the distant thud with the vibration. Something large and heavy trudged near them. A cold, slick sweat broke out across his flesh. Avena was out there with the impostor. What if they ran into a crystalman?
“Elohm’s blessed Colours,” Dajouth whispered. “Not another one of those Black-cursed bastards. We barely survived the first.”
“This worry has been gnawing at my mind,” Dualayn said. He unslung his pack and opened it. He produced his map and pointed at a building he had marked on it. Crystal Sheriff Hall. “The crystalmen were created for law and order. They must have survived the death and collapse of this city and are still continuing their work.”
“Three thousand years later?” muttered Ōbhin.
“Jewelchines, theoretically, can run forever. They will continuously be recharged by the Tonal Harmonics. The crystalmen were built to either have jewelchines that can power them all day long or to operate in shifts.” Dualayn shifted. “The only limiter in lifespan is corrosion of the metal wires, but they have theirs buried inside the jewelchines or are using gold, which doesn’t corrode.”
“So this Crystal Sheriff Hall is their base?” Ōbhin asked. “So we need to avoid it.”
“We need to reach it. That’s where they are controlled.” Dualayn looked up, tracks of sweat clearing streaks through the gray dust on his pudgy face. “We cannot defeat them in a fight. We were lucky you brought the ceiling down. We have to deactivate them. If they find us again . . .”
Ōbhin nodded. “Okay, how do we get there?”
“If we veer a little to our right, that should take us to it,” Dualayn said.
“Uh . . .” Dajouth glanced out a broken window into the dark. “I think that thudding’s comin’ closer.”
Fear squeezed Ōbhin’s chest. “Lights out. No moving.”
The three jewelchine lanterns snuffed out. Darkness crashed over Ōbhin. Black’s weight pressed him down on his belly. His cheek rubbed into the dusty floor. The sounds of ragged breathing surrounded him. He was trapped beneath the earth again. Just like that day.
Panic fluttered through him.
He wanted to see. He moved his hand before his face, saw nothing. No flex of his wiggling fingers. His breathing increased into ragged wheezing. His heart fluttered with the intensity of an avalanche crashing down the mountainside.
The floor shook.
THUD! THUD!
The crystalman stomped closer. Light bled through the dust-smeared window. Scarlet and green. It didn’t bring any relief. Death stomped closer and closer. His sword was useless. He couldn’t hurt it. Couldn’t fight it.
If it found them . . .
Diamond beams flooded on. The intensity blinded Ōbhin. He closed his eyes as the brilliance poured through the window. Light, it turned out, had just as much weight as
