Engines of Chaos by R. S. Ford

Author:R. S. Ford [FORD, R.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2023-04-04T00:00:00+00:00

TYRETA

They made their way through a labyrinth of service tunnels, unused for years from the rust and mould clinging to every surface. Donan led them on as though he knew this subterranean system like the back of his hand, but Tyreta was beginning to wonder if he had any idea where they were going. Still, it made more sense than walking out through Windstone’s terminal, which was no doubt guarded. The fewer questions they had to answer, the better.

When they finally reached the end of yet another ancient corridor, they were met with an iron door. In the light of their pyrestone lantern it looked rusted shut, and probably hadn’t been opened in decades.

Donan tried turning the circular handle, but it was stuck fast. Sted shoved him out of the way, grabbing it and straining as hard as she could. When it wouldn’t budge, she slammed her shoulder against the door with a curse.

“Great work, Donan,” she hissed. “We’ll be down here forever at this rate.”

Before she could berate him further, Crenn gently moved past, brandishing his wrench. He went about loosening a bolt here, forcing a nut there, and in moments the door swung wide with a drawn-out squeak. He treated them all to a smile before being the first to go through. Tyreta couldn’t help but grin at his mischief, but when she smelled what waited on the other side it was all she could do not to puke.

“What a magnificent stench, Donan,” Sted said as they came out in what appeared to be a dumping ground for all sorts of waste, both industrial and organic. “You bring us to all the best places. Remind me not to accept your invite for a night on the town.”

They were at the edge of the city. By the direction of the sea wind that was blowing across the junkyard, Tyreta could tell it was most likely on the eastern side.

“How was I to know we’d come out in a dump?” Donan lamented.

“It’s all right,” Tyreta replied. “You got us here, and we’re all grateful.” She raised an eyebrow at Sted, who didn’t look the slightest bit grateful. “Crenn, you said you could find this Nicosse?”

“Sure,” said the old artificer. “If he’s still there. Bridgeside is west of here. Follow me.”

He led them across the junkyard, past the rotting fish heads and torn netting that lay among stacks of broken furniture and masonry. Donan retched more than once at the stink, attracting a scowl from Sted every time he did it.

Once within the city proper the air was somewhat fresher, but not by much. Filth lined the streets, and Tyreta could sense a grim atmosphere. It took her a while before she realised it was similar to what she’d experienced in New Flaym after the kesh had left it battered and broken. A mournful pallor hung over the place, and the few people they passed eyed them warily.

Eventually Crenn led them to the main square. The statue of a ship stood at its centre, the marble carving marred by gull shit, the stone mast long since broken off.

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