Sunless Ezthamic's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

The engine's heartbeat still rang in Ezthamic's skull when he reached the gate. The other man with his face had vanished hours ago. Every hour the trail went colder. Ilyra pressed a small gold disc into his palm. A luminous needle spun inside it, etched with marks he half knew. "It points to the others who share your blood," she said. "It will find him." The needle steadied, then pulled north, toward a district of floating ruin. A scarred warrior blocked the path. He wore black-and-gold armor and half a metal mask. His eyes fixed on Ezthamic's face, and his hand went to his sword. "Number Seven," he said. Not a greeting. A count. "You always come back wrong. You were here an hour ago, walking the other way." Ezthamic's chest tightened. The copy had passed through this very gate. "That wasn't me," Ezthamic said. "Which way did he go?" The warrior laughed, low and tired. "You all say that." He drew the blade. "My orders don't care which of you asks." Ezthamic's arm split open. Bone framed the glowing core, and the golden blade burned free. The warrior came fast, but his swings were the swings of a man guarding a door for too long. Ezthamic turned one aside and drove him back against the gate. "Answer me. Then I leave." Golden light flared behind the ruins. A skeleton in fused armor rose from the rubble, fire burning in its empty skull. Ezthamic knew it hated him on sight. It hunted anything that carried his energy, and his blade lit the dark like a beacon. It swung a short blade at his neck. He ducked. From his belt he loosed a chain of black-and-gold links, a hooked blade at its end. He whipped it out. The hook caught the skeleton's ribs and he hauled hard. The dead thing crashed into the gate beside the warrior. The warrior froze. His eyes went wide at the burning skull. "Keeper," he whispered. The skeleton turned its fire on him now, drawn by the gold on his armor. Ezthamic saw his chance. He yanked the chain free and pinned the warrior's arm to the gate with the hook. "The direction," Ezthamic said. "Now." The warrior stared at the dead Keeper, then at Ezthamic. Fear broke him. "North. Past the hanging towers. He asked the same thing you're asking. He wants to find the others too." He spat. "You'll meet in the broken quarter. You always do." Ezthamic drove the Solblade through the skeleton's skull. The fire died. The warrior slid down the gate, alive, shaking. Ezthamic pulled his chain loose and checked the gold disc. The needle held steady, pointing past the floating ruins to the north. The trail was warm again. The copy was an hour ahead, no more, and chasing the same answer. For the first time, Ezthamic knew exactly where to find his own face.