“Your church claims to honor truth above all,” said Zetetic. “Yet you seek to erase the truth of earlier times. We should document and study-”
“Enough!” Lord Tower slapped the Gloryhammer into his gauntleted palm. “Father Ver, the Church will remain the final arbiter in distributing the treasure. However, I find no problem with granting the Deceiver what he’s asked for. Not control of the treasure, but the opportunity to study it. We must catalog the treasure anyway; Zetetic may oversee this work.”
“This had better not slow down our pay,” said Menagerie.
“It won’t,” said Tower.
“I’m surprised you’re capitulating on this, Tower,” said Zetetic.
“Surprised or not, I’m giving you my word,” said the knight. “I want you to fight with your full heart. I want you” — he glanced around the gathering — “all of you, to understand the importance of our mission. As Reeker’s death reminds us, Greatshadow’s malignant intelligence spies upon mankind through every candle, waiting for any moment of carelessness to strike. After we slay the dragon, mankind need never fear fire again.” He looked around the tangled jungle, and shook his head. “A once great kingdom, buried beneath a hostile wilderness. Such a waste, and Greatshadow is to blame. Here, life is brutal and short; the civilized concepts of mercy, compassion, and justice have failed to take hold against these twisted roots. These noble ideas are what we are truly fighting for. When Greatshadow falls, we shall tame this land. The world will no longer have any place where the wicked may hide from the righteous.”
“I appreciate the attempt at inspiring us,” said Aurora. “What I’m not hearing is how we’re going to actually kill the dragon. Your hammer couldn’t even touch the fire-drake.”
“The drake was nothing but flame. Greatshadow has a body.”
“True. But he’s not just a body. Assuming we can kill the big lizard part of him, how do we touch his spirit?”
I knew she was digging for information about the Jagged Heart, but Tower didn’t give her any satisfaction. “An excellent question,” he said. “We will launch our assault on the beast from the ancient temple that lies below.” He tapped a star-shaped chamber on the map.
“Why is that going to make any difference?” asked Menagerie.
Zetetic said, “Despite Ver’s insistence that his religion has all the answers, all temples are imbued by the collective energies of their worshippers with special properties. The veil between the material and immaterial is especially thin in these places. Thanks to my metaphysical flexibility, I can manipulate the temple energies to open a door to the spirit world. Father Ver is in possession of a Writ of Judgment. I will send him into the spirit world to confront Greatshadow’s soul.”
“He’s that powerful?” Aurora asked.
Father Ver shook his head. “Even if I weren’t reading the scroll, the sentence of death written upon it comes from the highest earthly power of the church, the Voice of the Book. The beast’s soul will fade when confronted by his truthful verdict as frost retreats before sunlight.”
Aurora looked dubious; frost sparkled on her cheeks as the morning brightened.
Lord Tower said, “With Greatshadow’s soul destroyed, slaying the beast’s body will be my duty.”
“Buhuh pluh?” asked No-Face.
Menagerie nodded. “Your plan does seems a little… spare. What happens if the priest fails? What happens if the dragon fries you?”
Tower nodded. “If needed, I may also travel to the spirit realm, since I have a weapon that my harm the dragon’s spirit. As for Greatshadow’s body, you killed two dragons in Commonground. You’re the back-up plan.”
“I appreciate your confidence,” said Menagerie.
Tower looked back at the map. “Of course, there are challenges before we reach the dragon. Most of this palace used to be above ground. Lava flows have covered much of it; earthquakes have wiped out entire sections of a complex that once covered two square miles. Previous explorers have wiggled through a maze of narrow tunnels to try to survey what they could. However, if the monks have interpreted the map correctly, the depression in the center of the courtyard was once a ceremonial well before it was filled with debris. We can dig straight down one hundred feet through the courtyard to reach deep passageways that may still be intact, then follow these to the temple.”
Tower pointed at the spot in the courtyard where they’d have to dig. Menagerie looked at the jumbled boulders then said, “I hope the Gloryhammer can turn into a Gloryshovel. Even though I have a mole tattoo, digging through a hundred feet of rock might take a while.”
“We can be down below in ten minutes, if Father Ver doesn’t screw with me,” said Zetetic.
“Behave and he won’t have to,” said Tower. “Show us what you can do.”
“Very well.” Zetetic glanced at No-Face, their gazes locking for the briefest of seconds. “I possess the ability to move rocks through pure mental force.”
He held his hands toward the rock pile, his brow furrowed. Everyone looked at the rocks, anticipating a show. Seconds passed, stretching into minutes. Father Ver turned his back to the Deceiver, scowling deeply. Still, nothing happened. Aurora shook her head. You could tell she didn’t think Zetetic could do it.
No-Face kept staring. I floated over the boulder-filled pit. I held my ghost breath, catching hint of a faint rumble below. Without warning, fist-sized stones beneath me began to dance, bouncing into the air a few inches at first, then a few feet. A stone the size of a watermelon stood on end, then slowly rose, wobbling, until suddenly it shot out in a long arc over the jungle, vanishing from sight. The ground trembled as stone after stone rose; chunks of rock as big as rowboats were lurching heavenward. Waves of dust rolled over the courtyard as uncounted tons of stone sailed out of sight.
“Damn,” I said, looking back at Relic. “I wish I’d known this guy back when I was looting these ruins. I mean, exploring. Exploring these ruins.”
You could be exploring the ruins now, thought Relic. You could confirm that this does, in fact, lead to an open passage.
I slapped myself on my intangible forehead. What was I waiting for? I dove into the solid ground like it was a swimming pool. Instantly, I regretted it. It was one of the few moments since I’d died that I truly felt dead, cut off from light and air, surrounded by lifeless earth. It took all my willpower to continue sinking into the suffocating darkness. I couldn’t help but think about my body, enshrouded by silent blackness, six feet of sandy soil forever pressing down. I hadn’t thought much about my old shell, but burial now struck me as a cruel thing to do to a body. Still, what was the alternative? Reeker hadn’t made cremation look attractive. If I’d had a say in deciding my final resting place, I’d have asked that my corpse be placed inside a giant glass jar full of pure grain alcohol. Set me in the corner of the Black Swan and let life go on around me. Of course, if everyone did this, bars would be pretty overcrowded with pickled mummies. Worse, it’d waste an awful lot of booze.
I have no way of judging how far I sank before my head emerged into the hallway. It glowed with the same pale spirit light I’d found in the pygmy tunnels. Tile murals decorated both walls. Beneath thick layers of grime, once vivid colors depicted a procession of what I assumed to be royalty. The people portrayed were tall and slender, with bone-white skin, the color of pygmy flesh without dye. Both women and men were bare-breasted; both sexes wore bright green skirts rather than pants. The men’s legs showed from the mid-thigh down, while the women were covered all the way to the ankle. Everyone portrayed wore copious amounts of jewelry; I peered closer, trying to figure out if the yellow gleam beneath the dust was actual gold, or merely paint. I instinctively scraped at the grime, but, of course, my nails passed right through.
The men were depicted with large jade rings in their noses and ears; the women had no piercings, but their hair was piled high on their heads and bound up in coils of gold. In the background of the mural were a dozen buildings ablaze with color; bright red and yellow flags decorated bamboo mansions, long since rotted away. Beyond the cityscape, the jungle looked much the same, the towering trees flecked with red. Blood-tangle vine must have been a nuisance even then.
The procession was accompanied by animals on leashes — tall dogs with wasp-thin waists, yellow and black tigers, and some big-ass praying mantises. I’d seen plenty of giant bugs in the jungle, but you could have put a saddle on these things.
I leaned closer, studying the legs of the insects. The joints were ringed with small dots, like rivets. They looked familiar. Then it hit me — the bugs were machines, like the mechanical tiger that had given Infidel a hard
