Kriz sagged in his arms as she lost consciousness. Clay fixed his gaze on the building ahead and gave full vent to the product in his veins, resisting the urge to turn as the guns of his companions barked into life. Drake screams and blasts of heated air chased him up the slope, all the way to the building, which, he saw with a plummeting heart, appeared to be undamaged and lacking any obvious point of entry.
He sagged against the building, laying Kriz down before turning about just in time to see Loriabeth hack a Red out of the sky with a concentrated burst from her repeating rifle. The beast crashed to earth a dozen feet away in a tangle of wings and dying flame, twitched and lay still. The other Reds screamed and wheeled away, weaving to and fro as Sigoral’s bullets tracked them across the sky. They retreated out of range of the guns and began to circle, calling out their piercing cries all the while.
“What are they waiting for?” Loriabeth wondered.
Clay’s enhanced vision picked out a distant shape above the jagged peaks. At first he took it for a cloud, then realised his mistake. Beyond the occasional patch of mist, this was a world without clouds. The shape soon grew and his unnaturally keen sight left no doubt as to its true nature. Reds. A whole flock of Reds.
“Reinforcements,” Clay told his cousin, turning and casting his gaze around. Where is it? He found it at the corner of the building, a free-standing plinth identical to the others. Rushing towards it he slapped his palm to the crystal, sighing in explosive relief at the grind of stone as a section of wall slid aside to create an entrance. He gathered Kriz into his arms and rushed inside, the others following quickly. They moved into the cool dark interior then stopped, turning to regard the open entrance.
“How do we close it?” Sigoral asked.
Clay’s frantic gaze searched the surrounding gloom, finding no sign of another plinth. “Don’t think we can,” he said. “Guess when they built this place they weren’t overly concerned with locking their doors behind them.”
“Cuz.” Loriabeth stood staring at the fast-approaching flock of Reds, less than a mile off now and closing quickly.
“Take her,” Clay said, placing Kriz in Sigoral’s arms then rushing towards the entrance. He ran outside and moved to the plinth before taking out his wallet and extracting the vial of raw Black. He could hear the Reds now, the flock voicing a collective cry rich in hungry malice. He drank all the Black, swallowing with hard jerking gulps as it coursed down his throat to his gut. The burn of it provoked an agonised shout and he fell to his knees, gasping air into his lungs then pressing his hand to the crystal.
He sprinted for the entrance as the grinding rumble rose again, the section of wall sliding closed with aggravating swiftness. He lashed out with the Black just as it came within a few inches of closing. The huge stone slab resisted the pressure at first, the hidden mechanicals pushing it were strong, but the Black was stronger. Clay maintained a steady pressure, widening the gap to an inch, then another, sweat coursing down his forehead as he felt the Black diminish with alarming rapidity.
He could see Loriabeth and Sigoral on the other side, hands clutching the slab as they tried to widen the gap. Loriabeth called his name, the sound of which was barely audible above the rising fury of the Reds’ hungry chorus. Clay kept his gaze locked on the edge of the door, pushing and pushing until the gap widened to almost a foot.
Feeling the last vestiges of Black fade from his veins, he lunged forward. Sigoral caught his arm and hauled him through just as the door slammed shut behind, sending a booming echo through the structure.
Clay spent a few moments on his knees, dragging air into his lungs before he regained the strength to stand. He rose, surveying the building’s interior as Loriabeth lit her lantern. They were in a broad central chamber, the surrounding walls interrupted by several entrances. Clay moved to the closest one, peering at the symbols carved on either side but finding them unfamiliar, resembling a curved diagonal cross.
“Look for something that looks like an eye,” he told the others, gulping Green and moving to the next entrance. His boosted sight found it a few moments later, the upturned eye flanking a corridor, the depths of which were lit by a soft glow. “This one,” he said, rushing to gather Kriz into his arms.
They hurried along the corridor and out into another larger chamber. Loriabeth and Sigoral drew up short at the sight confronting them, although Clay had little time to wonder at the crystal floating above a huge stone egg. Like the chamber where they had found Kriz, the egg stood on a raised dais, bathed in the soft white light cast by the crystal.
“Cuz?” Loriabeth asked, voice heavy with uncertainty as he moved swiftly to the dais.
“It healed me,” Clay said, stepping into the crystal’s light. “It’ll heal her.”
He gently set Kriz down on the dais, settling her onto her side so that her ravaged back was presented to the crystal. “Come on,” he implored in a whisper, stepping back, gaze locked on the slowly rotating stone. “Do it . . . Do it!”
The crystal continued its serene rotation for several long seconds then Clay detected a subtle flicker deep in its facets. A new beam lanced out from the crystal to envelop Kriz. She groaned in response, limbs twitching and features tensing. Clay resisted the impulse to pull her clear of the light, focusing on her wound. After a few seconds he saw the redness surrounding the ragged puckered line in her back begin to fade. He kept watching to ensure it wasn’t some trick of the mind, finally letting out a relieved laugh as the redness faded almost completely. Soon the glistening blistered flesh around the cauterized wound had begun to re-form itself, smooth skin replacing raw tissue.
“How’d you get it to do that?” Loriabeth asked, moving closer, eyes wide in fascination.
“I didn’t,” Clay said, staring up at the crystal. “I think it’ll heal any wounded body that comes into range of its light. It’s what it does.” He lowered his gaze to the egg, still bathed in the crystal’s light, which hadn’t faltered with the appearance of the second beam. “It keeps things alive,” he added in a soft murmur, eyeing the tightly sealed joins in its side where the segments fit together.
“Back here!” Sigoral called from the far end of the chamber, voice high with uncharacteristic excitement.
As Loriabeth answered the Corvantine’s call, Clay knelt to check Kriz’s breathing, finding it smooth and regular. Touching a hand to her forehead, he found the skin warm but free of fever. The only sign of distress was a slight flutter to her eyelids.
“Might wanna come see this, Clay!” Loriabeth called, just as excited as Sigoral.
He found them standing next to a plinth several yards away from the dais. It sat close to the edge of a twelve-foot-wide circular indentation in the floor. Hearing the echo birthed by his footsteps, Clay looked up. The shaft rose into the gloom above, the length of the echo indicating it went a very long way up.
“We made it, Cuz,” Loriabeth enthused, coming closer to hug him tight. “We’re finally getting out.”