Lucinda

 

The cart moved smoothly and without resistance, gaining speed as it surged up the mountain. Lucie briefly worried about debris on the track but she hadn’t seen so much as a stray pebble on the road once it reached the mountain. The road in the valley had fallen into disrepair but clearly this stretch received regular maintenance.

The lights grew closer together, illuminating more of the rock face. When her butt grew numb, she shifted position and noticed the geometric designs cut into the rock. Some were black, but others had a flickering light behind them. The little holes were part of a lattice pattern, like a screen over a window. No, not like a window. It was a window. The mountain had windows.

The undulations in the rock face weren’t natural but buildings. It wasn’t until she rocketed by a carved stone foot that she realized the buildings were shaped as people. Up close it was hard to see, but looking back she could make out the tall figures with outstretched arms. Towers. Towers carved into giant statues.

This was a city, or at least the outskirts of a city carved into the side of a mountain. Not a mining station. Not a little village or a collection of huts. A flipping city.

The cart continued to pick up speed. She didn’t really know where the brakes were on this thing so she hoped it would stop automatically and not crash.

Pretty please no crashes. One out-of-orbit crash was enough for a lifetime.

The road split, one branch heading directly for a giant with a wide legged stance, obviously some kind of gatehouse. Her little cart kept to the smaller path, headed for a dark tunnel.

Lucie pulled on the lever to no avail. There was no stopping the cart. It pierced the darkness of the tunnel with a woosh and, for a moment, complete silence surrounded her before emerging into light.

The cart slowed and finally pulled to a stop at a platform. Several carts were neatly lined up along the platform and several more just like it. She followed a short staircase up to a concourse.

This was a transportation hub. It reminded Lucie of a large train station she visited once. The carts weren’t ideal for transportation, though. They were uncomfortable and exposed to the elements. Perhaps they were used to move supplies up and down the mountain.

The concourse led Lucie to a cluster of buildings carved out of the rock of the mountain. The same glowing orange stones were fashioned into the walls in geometric patterns, providing a dim light. These buildings seemed functional and designed for industry. Workshops. A brief investigation inside confirmed this. No bathroom and no water.

The entire city unnerved her. Abandonment was all she could think as she poked her head in empty, unlived in building after empty building. A thick layer of dust covered the furnishings but nothing looked used. The tools in the workshops were pristine under the dust. Tables and chairs were in perfect shape. The half-light of the orange stones gave every unused space a sinister bent. She wanted to know what happened to the people and half-feared, half-anticipated opening a door to a room piled high with bodies. An entire city of people eradicated from plague, famine, war… something to explain the existence of the ghost town in the volcano.

No such luck. She only found dust, empty rooms and more questions.  

The buildings on the lower level of the city were a single story and humble in design, not overly elaborate, unlike the giant statues adorning the road on the journey up the mountain. Even the stones were rough with minimal polish. The surface had channels carved in. Lucie frowned, thinking at first it was some type of system to cope with rain and water run-off, then she remembered the dimpled egg crate patterns on the walls of her cell. The channels were there to dampen the sound.

The air held the unmistakable scent of rotten eggs: sulfur. It wasn’t overpowering, but it remained hard to ignore. The heat was like walking into an oven, dry and unforgiving.

Lucie tilted her head up, surprised to find the night sky above her and not the vaulted ceiling of a cavern. This was a crater in the top of a mountain. That had a name. She searched for it but came up empty.

Her legs ached from the day of walking and then the ride in the cart. Her entire body ached, actually. She hadn’t exactly been in a safety harness when the Concord crashed. She had been tossed around like a ragdoll while the ship fell from the sky and slammed into the planet. She was lucky to walk away, let alone with minor scrapes and bruising. Plenty of others had suffered worse, or didn’t survive.

Walking all day kept her muscles from growing stiff but her ankle barked. She wanted to curl up somewhere and sleep but knew the moment she stopped, she’d be stiff and sore, even if she took some pills to fight the muscle aches. Her ankle would swell up and she might not be able to put weight on it. Hell, she should be resting it now but first she needed to find someplace to hole up and hide, preferably with a weapon. Until then, she needed to keep moving.

Lucie followed the road. It grew wider and the buildings became grander. Statues, much like the ones outside the city, lined the road. Boulevard, Lucie corrected her thought, eyeing the statues holding aloft glowing orange orbs. Overgrown bushes and planters clustered around the statues. She had little doubt that this was a grand boulevard designed to impress and intimidate. Now it had the air of abandonment about it.

The trouble with grand, impressive boulevards was the clutter of monuments, statues, and arches gave very little space for actually homes. Or shelter. Part of her wanted to turn back to the industrial area she’d first arrived in, find some place defensible and hope for the best.

Yeah. Like hoping for the best ever worked out for her.

Halliday knew her general direction and he was pissed. She needed to keep moving, find a good hiding spot deep in the city then she could rest.

The boulevard terminated in a circular plaza. Eight statues ringed the plaza, each figure tall and elegant. The statue’s appearance unnerved Lucie on a level she couldn’t explain. They had two arms, two legs, and the face looked human but somehow crueler. Arrogant. Their elongated arms and legs gave the impression of a stretched clay model.

Beyond the ring of statues was a balustrade and below, a lake of lava. It bubbled and churned. The city nested inside an active volcano. That explained the heat and the smell.

The statues held their hands outstretched, as if offering a gift. Lava flowed freely and fed into a channel that ringed the plaza. Under a thick layer of a clear material, the channel divided into smaller channels, forming a pattern across the stones that very much looked like writing.

At the center of the plaza on an elevated platform stood a statue clearly meant to be the centerpiece. A woman, Lucie assumed, in a flowing dress that covered just enough to be decent. She wore a domed headdress that masked her eyes but left the haughty sneer on her face for all to see. Two massive wings of fire flickered behind her, like a phoenix rising above the other statues.

“Someone has a high opinion of herself,” Lucie muttered, circling around the statue.

The wings gave off no heat and flickered when she tilted her head. A hologram, she decided.

Between the statues, the cascading lava, the emblazoned writing in the stones and the holographic winged statue, the combined effect was extraordinarily tacky.

Yeah, tacky.

The lack of restraint did not impress Lucie. She’d spent plenty of time in the last four years around people who thought they were better than others and had no one to tell them no. She recognized a lack of good taste and judgement when she stood in the middle of a giant monument to the winged woman’s ego.

A clanging sound caught her attention.

Halliday or someone else.

She wasn’t alone and needed to find a spot to hide, fast, instead of sightseeing. Adrenaline spiked, moving her forward. She needed to rest and soon. The adrenaline rush wouldn’t last much longer.

A narrow staircase went down the balustrade to a type of walk above the lava lake. Ten feet above a bubbling caldron of lava hardly seemed the best place to take a leisurely stroll but whoever built this city had more ego than sense, as demonstrated by the lava dribbling statues.

The walk did not seem designed for a promenade. It looked too practical. Then she noticed the stones were once again rougher cut and not as polished or smooth as the material used for the plaza. This must be the service entrance or a maintenance passage.

Good enough.

Lucie hustled down the stairs, ignoring the heat or the way the bottom of her shoes stuck to the stones. While clearly narrow compared to the scale of the rest of the city, the steps were still deep and tall, designed for being much larger than herself. The image of the stone golem flitted into her mind. Whoever the statues were of, they didn’t look anything like the person she’d encountered.

Doorways lined the walk. Lucie tried the first heavy metal door. It felt warm under the hand, too warm, but it did not budge. Locked, or the extreme heat warped the door. She moved on, finding the next two similarly stuck. The fourth door opened under protest when she put her shoulder into it.

She shut the door, wincing as it creaked. Hopefully no one heard. She leaned against the warm metal, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

Not completely dark, despite the lack of the glowing stones. A large hearth and the fire burning in at the end of the room provided the only light.

She took a few stumbling steps in the dark, towards the hearth, and stubbed her toe on something heavy. Previously unseen lanterns sprang to life, casting the cool glow of blue light on the room.

Lucie gasped, her shin colliding with the fallen figure of her golem.

Sort of.

It lacked the heavy plating—armor, her mind supplied—but there was no doubt in her mind it was of the same people as the golem she encountered by the river. Only this person lay perfectly still, did not breathe, and did not even glow with the internal fire. They were as still and as cold as stone.

Lucie reached out a curious hand and touched an arm, flinching back quickly.

Yes, cold but not stone. Rough and heavy and all suppleness gone, the person had a leathery texture.

The person was also very dead.

But didn’t smell: unless Lucie was so nose-blind from the sulfur in the air, the body had no odor. Lucie had encountered her fair share of the smells of death in prison. This person just didn’t smell that way.

She circled around, taking in the massive proportion of the body. They rested on their side, as if they curled up to take a nap and never woke. Lucie found it impossible to think of them as an “it” because this was clearly a person. Their face was… not human. The proportions were wrong on the heavy brows paired with a heavy jaw, erasing any possibility of this being a human. Or even a model for the statutes above. With their eyes closed, they looked peaceful and somehow more appealing than the cruel expressions on the statues.

Yeah, if she had to pick, she’d side with the golems before the statues. Not that she knew what any of them were called, but golem seemed as good a name as any, until she found a better word.

The golem had a circular hole the width of three fingers in his chest on his breastbone. Lucie didn’t want to probe the hole to see how deep or what its purpose could be. That seemed… invasive. Disrespectful.

Maybe a power source? Was this a robot?

Lucie tried to remember if the living golem she encountered earlier had a hole, or something to plugged into the same spot.

No.

All she had really seen were his eyes and the compassion and intelligence there.

Her own eyes felt gritty and raw. She needed to sleep, but she needed to find a place to hide. Passing out in the center of this room—whatever it was—was not an option. Lucie picked herself up, her legs and back protesting, and moved deeper into the room, towards the fire.

Fallen bodies littered the floor. Alcoves were carved into the sides but only some of them were occupied with more sleeping golems. She couldn’t explain how she knew they were sleeping, unlike the first body she found, she just knew.

Once again, wide and deep steps led up to the hearth, designed for the feet of a much larger being. A platform rose in front of the hearth. She recognized the dark metal surface as an anvil. A circular depression in the center of the anvil reminded her of a sink or funnel. Clearly not an anvil. Hammers, tongs and pliers carefully arranged on the surface of the not-anvil, appeared to await for a blacksmith to return to work.

The pack slid off her shoulders and hit the floor. Lucie moved to pick up the hammer, but the heavy tool wouldn’t budge. She settled for the tongs. They were heavy but not too heavy to carry or swing. Weapon acquired.

Now understanding that this was a forge, she examined the space. She recognized the tools hanging on the walls. Some were made of heavy iron, designed to withstand the high temperatures, and others looked more technical. Delicate even.

The room did not end at the hearth. Beyond it lay a pool sunk into the floor with steps leading down to a bath. Lava, or a substance very much like, bubbled and churned. What was the point of that? For all the world it looked as if people were expected to walk into the lava and take a swim. It sat far too low to be useful for blacksmithing, not if you didn’t want to ruin your back.

The door pushed open.

Lucie jumped, heart in her throat, and for a moment her panicky mind considered leaping into the pool before crouching down behind a kneeling golem. This one faced the pool, and Lucie was face to face with it. His features, while clearly not human, were pleasing. Strong, attractive, like someone you could depend on. He also felt slightly more alive than the other figures, as if it could protect her, which was complete crazy talk. Dehydration and exhaustion were playing with her head.

“Lucky—”

No way. No fucking way Halliday found her so quickly.

“You can’t hide from me.”

She’d damn well try.

Hands planted on the kneeling figure’s thighs, Lucie peered over a stony shoulder. With the lights on, there was no way for her to sneak away. She could hide behind one giant golem but not down the length of the room, not with Halliday sniffing the air.  Halliday went directly to the pack by the anvil.

Her legs tensed, ready to make a dash for it if Halliday got distracted. She braced a hand against the stone golem’s chest.

Halliday didn’t look too hot. Actually, he looked just plain hot. Sweaty. Red faced. Sweat soaked his shirt at the collar and at the pits. Unconsciously, Lucie plucked at the fabric of her scrubs. She was warm but hadn’t even broken a sweat. He must have run up the mountain.

He tore into the pack for the water bottle, dumping the contents on his face and into his open mouth.

Lucie felt her opportunity slip away. She’d waited too long.

The golem’s chest moved as if taking in a breath. Its eyes focused on her, bright and glowing gold.

Startled, Lucie yelped and sprang away, tripping over her own feet and falling on her backside.

“There you are,” Halliday said, prowling towards her.

She scrambled to her feet, her grip never leaving the wrought iron tongs. She was so done with him.

“Stay away from me,” she warned, brandishing the tongs. For good measure, she spun towards the golem and repeated herself. He breathed. She felt it.

“That’s not nice. I came all this way to find you,” Halliday said.

“Just take the radio and leave.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Lucky girl, come here.”

“Fuck off.” She waved the tongs at him. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

He laughed. The creep actually laughed at her, face red and shining in the light of the forge. “I’m going to give you until the count of three to come here and be a good girl or I will end you. One.”

She moved around him in a wide circle, trying to get a direct line to the door to make a run for it. She angled herself to hide the tongs at the far side of her body, away from Halliday’s sight.

She split her attention with Halliday and the golem, desperate to assess which one posed the bigger threat. The creature watched her, eyes glowing, but it remained seated. “Two. Not talking to me anymore?”

Halliday proved to be the bigger threat. The golem by the river hadn’t hurt so maybe this one wouldn’t but it sure a hell wasn’t helping with her current predicament. 

Her grip tightened on the tongs. The rough metal bit into her palms, opening barely healed wounds. Oversized and clearly made for a hand larger than her own, she refused to lose her grip. “I’m serious. I’ll end you if you touch me. I have a list.”

He laughed, that high-pitched giggle that sent chills down her spine. “Three. I’m going to miss all your jokes when I kill you.”

She didn’t wait. Lucie swung the tongs like a bat. Halliday used the pack as a shield. Plastic casing and electronic components made a crunching noise on impact.

Shit.

She just smashed the radio but had no time to absorb the implications of the damage.

Halliday lunged, grabbing her arm. Lucie swung her tongs with her free hand. She felt her heart stop pumping in those long seconds as Halliday realized his mistake and the tongs crashed against his face. Blood and spit splattered her. His hand fell away, and he clutched his face.

“What did you do? You bitch!” He lunged again. She hit him across the shins.  He fell to the ground. She hit him again and he stopped screaming.

Four years of torment poured out of her as she dropped the wrought iron tool and pounded him with her bare hands. Tears blurred her vision, stinging her red and raw eyes. Soft and sticky and covered in his disgusting blood, she kept hitting until her knuckles hurt and her palms stung.

Blood pooled under his head and flowed into the channels of the floor.

His moaning stopped. She couldn’t tell if he breathed or not. She didn’t really care and she wasn’t leaning in to check his pulse.

The floor vibrated as long unused gears turned.

Flagstones slid back to reveal a staircase spiraling under the anvil platform.