Deathdealer

Journal of Rowana, daughter of Rowetha
25 / 04 / 2120 of the Fourth Age

They were called the Ered Lithui, the Ash Mountains, and ran along the northern border of the plateau. Once, perhaps, they had deserved the name. Ashfall from Mount Doom had denuded the slopes of the mountains, painting the permanent glaciers at the tips black.

Now, blue skies shone, far from cities. Green dotted the mountains; logging roads had been cut to access the new stands of trees. Birds flew overhead. I had seen antelope and rangy goats. Icemelt trickled down in streams that would gather into rivers toward the sea. The satellite photos showed a pool that had been constructed, high up where three streams met, to feed the aqueduct: a dark stone tunnel that ran fifteen miles on a gentle slope to the cistern that lay below the Black Labs complex, and should, if the historical maps were correct, connect to the new construction above.

The crowbar took care of the padlock, the iron gate stood open.

Azzie and Bebe set up the three-season tent. I hadn't wanted to take them, but Azzie had made the point that they were sitting ducks with no transportation if they stayed back at the farm. Instead, they would be my comms unit. I'd already set up the satlink, cyberdeck, and solar panel.

"Comms check," I whispered silently, my subvocal microphone implant interfacing with the tactical radio.

"I hear you," Azzie said.

"Affirmative," Looseleaf's voice crackled. "We're standing by."

Black and grey painted my face. A tight-knit cap over my hair. The form-fitting armor, my Deathdealer and Great Eagle in sealed plastic bags, the Elf-blade at my hip, a small crowbar strapped to the other side. Anymore would be too much to carry with the rest of my load. The spool at the small of my back held twenty kilometers of fiber-optic cable I let it unwind behind me as, I stepped into the dark.

Low-light augments kicked in as the tunnel entrance shrank behind me. The water was only waist-deep, but cold enough that if I had balls they'd be crawling up inside my abdomen by now. I slunk through the water, steel-toed boots finding grip on the centuries-old floor. In times past, the ash-fall would have periodically clogged these tunnels, required crews to go in and clear them, hence the reason why the ceilings were tall enough for me to walk through.

Dark. Cold. Wet. I shivered as I went deeper and deeper. Leaving behind me all the things I had come to care for. All the parts of me that were soft and weak. Ears and eyes alert. I could see the ****-grafitti of old work crews. Hear the soft drip and rush of water. Smell...something that wasn't evergreens and mold. Before me, something filmy covered the portion of the tunnel not underwater. My hand went to my blade.

The dark held its breath.

I spun, blade already moving as the first spider, ghostly pale, its carapace semi-transparent in places, dropped behind me from an overhead ventilation shaft. The wait of it slammed into me, its pedipalps hit the basic guard of the blade, its blue glow burning through the pale, near-translucent body. I pushed the body off to the side and turned around. Things moved in the dark ahead of me.

Guardian spiders. Light drinkers, life-drinkers. Smarter than dogs, and amenable to guard megacorporate facilities, in exchange for food. Now that they knew I knew they were here, I could hear their soft voices come toward me. Snatches of poetry, whispers of threats, promises. Clever girls, but they didn't like water. I kept low, blade ready to strike or cut through webbing. Step by step.

They struck when they thought I wasn't looking. Always looking for the advantage. Too big to come at me more than one at a time. Venomed fangs skittered off body armor. The blade bit deep. It both attracted them and repelled them. I could tell they wanted to drink its light, almost as much as they wanted my own blood. It bit deep, over and over again.

The last one gave it a name.

"Deathdealer, deathdealer," it whispered. "Little sister holds it in her hand. Deathdealer, deathdealer, how long can she stand? Thirsty, thirsty is the blade, almost thirsty as I. Who shall drink, in the dark, or see the unknown land?"

She used the carcass of a dead spider to distract me. The blazing blade sunk into the hollow shell as she clasped my back, her fangs aimed at my neck. My right hand came up with the crowbar, stabbing desperately above and behind me. She shrieked as it burst several eyes...then louder as I threw myself backward, into the water. We twisted and turned for a moment, the Elf-blade stabbed, and finally it went still.

I checked the spool. The fiber optic line hadn't kinked or been cut.

Fifteen miles. Sixteen spiders. I smelled like **** when the tunnel opened up into a vast cavernous pool, marked with pillars and curved archways. I swam, blade in hand, to the nearest pillar. Checked the map the Looseleaf had provided. The sounds echoed, but there were no more laughs, no more whispering, despite the cobwebs that criss-crossed the ceiling.

They could only feed so many. But they would have to feed them. I traced the dark lines of cables across the tops of the pillars, the light fixtures that had to be on timers. I found the intake pipes where the water was pumped upstairs for filtering and dispersal...and there was the landing with the very modern-looking steel door. No visible lock. Yet there was an access panel, I pried it off, examined the connections there. There was a direct computer connection to the lights above.

Perfect.

I unstrapped the spool off my back and carefully spliced it into the connection.

This is where things got interesting.

"I'm in," I subvocalized.

"We're in," Looseleaf's voice came crackling back.

The bolts of the door clunked as the hackers unlocked them.

They were in the system. I unsealed the Deathdealer and the Great Eagle. Took one deep breath and eased into the Black Labs.