Chapter 72 – Not Risking Maybe

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said Howie, visibly nervous. “And look, maybe we wait an hour? Maybe that debt-audit guy looks at my tattoo, says its not a brand, and just lets us out?”

  “And maybe he realizes we match the descriptions of the chasers who fucked up the whore-house and we get pinched,” said Cole. “And maybe this is the kind of place where even if you don’t have a debt, they’ll make one up on the spot because there’s fuck-all anyone can do about it.” Some of the other men on the bench shifted nervously at that, which was all the confirmation Cole needed. “We’re not risking maybe.”

  “I’m just saying,” said Howie. “There are avenues that keep us both on ground level for the immediate future, yeah? No need to leap to brash action.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hint at me to do it, or not to do it,” said Cole. “But we’re going to do it.”

  Howie leaned forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Oh shit. Hold up. Just let me get ready.”

  The man who could summon fire and frost in his fingertips, but was apparently terrified of heights, hyperventilated through his clenched teeth as the other people on the bench edged away from them. He slapped his face with both hands, then straightened, wearing a mask of calm.

  “You ready?” asked Cole.

  “Fuck no!” said Howie, stoic expression evaporating and squeezing his eyes shut. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “That’s the spirit,” said Cole. He stood, pulling Howie to his feet along side him. “Hold on.”

  The more cautious of the two guards noticed immediately and stopped what he was doing to point at them. “Hey, hey! Sit your asses back down before I—”

  Cole burned two charges and leapt. The ground rocketed away and so did the wall, which only went up about five or six meters, and was built with downward facing spikes on the outside to keep things out, not in. The men on the walls watched, pulling out muskets and crossbows as Cole and Howie arced over and impacted in the hot dust on the exterior, blowing out a ring of debris from the impact. Cole scrambled to his feet and pulled Howie along as the first musket balls began to impact around them.

  “Come on!” he said.

  Howie got to his feet and worked a spell in his fingers, blasting it straight down. It erupted into a fog of chilly mist that swirled and climbed, creating a thick screen between them and the wall. A crossbow bolt landed in the dust between them, rimed with frost. The two looked at each other and kept running. Up ahead, the starburst flare of an automatic weapon began to flare, and a moment later the sound of Besson’s support by fire reached them. He probably wasn’t trying to kill anyone on the wall, and it was unlikely that he would at that range, but it would at least keep their shooter’s heads down. Roxy pushed up from her position, as well, and rushed to cover them with her shield. A musket ball hammered off the metal, bursting into flame where it touched.

  They ran for another two hundred meters or so, taking position in a set of boulders and looking back.

  While there was plenty of activity on the wall and at the gate, no sign of pursuit had developed.

  “They’re not chasing us?” asked Howie. “After that?”

  “Why should they care?” asked Cole. “From their point of view, they’re never going to see us again. We’re challengers on our way to the next floor. Either we’re strong enough to do that, in which case trying to follow us to collect a debt that doesn’t exist anyway is stupid, or we’ll die out here anyway.”

  “It ain’t them I’m worried about,” said Besson. "Wind is from the east, and Nutmeg smells something on it she really doesn’t like.”

  Cole sniffed the air as well. Even with his enhanced Acuity, all he smelled was dust, dirt, sulfur, and hot. Even under cover of the occluded sun, this floor’s heat was oppressive. Nona finding those potions might end up being a lifesaver for them.

  Out to the east, rocky hills stretched out toward one of several pillars of light dotting the landscape—doorways to the next floor. Each of them was atop a pinnacle, clear from every direction, despite the sheer cliffs and steep hills in their vicinity. Smoke or steam or something wafted in the air throughout the whole of what they could see. And on the horizon, what little of it there was, those strange kaleidoscopic walls through which Dallemonte observed his little ant farm. That, to Cole, was the scariest part. That outside those walls was simply the end of knowable time and space. When he was a kid, with one summer spent cooped up recovering from a broken leg, he’d read Stephen King stories about monsters and gods that lived in such places. Not one of them made those creatures out to be something you’d want to meet.

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  “At least we’ve got a twenty,” said Cole. “We keep moving and looking for Beth. If she left the town, then she obviously thinks she has what it takes to survive here. Let’s make sure she’s correct.

  “Oh, joy, an uphill hike,” said Roxy.

  Cole chuckled under his breath. It was, indeed, almost entirely uphill from there. They covered kilometer after kilometer of rising canyons and sharp badlands. The floor outside the hold offered little but difficult terrain and poor sight lines. And they wouldn’t be alone, either. Dallmonte challenged his challengers in kind. There would be no shortage of danger. It wasn’t likely they’d be able to avoid it all.

  Neither would they have been able to avoid other people, even if they’d wanted. Signs of foot traffic were everywhere—trails stomped into the dirt that led up hills, discarded equipment that was too damaged to repair, and even a few other groups of climbers, spotted in the distance as they crested ridges and cliffs—none of which matched Beth’s photo when viewed through his scope. Thousands upon thousands of people had been through this path. The groups they did cross paths with—some headed to the stairs to the next level, and some back towards town, kept their weapons close to hand. A few had crossed paths with Beth, though none could give more than a vague hint at her direction; east, towards the next floor of Babel.

  Besson ranged out ahead, while Roxy, Howie, and Nona kept closed ranks, maintaining a dozen meters or so separation over the open ground. They devoured kilometer after kilometer, until the occlusion started to pass. Mostly the terrain outside Tallorax was scrubby, rocky hills filled with thorny plants, turning to steamy rock canyons as the humidity rose with the temperature of the morning. You’d be hard pressed to find edibles here (unless you were Howie, who could eat practically anything—and did so as they walked). They passed herd animals grazing to their north, resembling mid-sized dinosaurs on four legs. With horns and natural plated flanks, and two meters at the shoulder, they were likely fearsome if challenged. But where there were herd animals, there were predators. Whatever preyed upon those things would be at least as tough. Or numerous.

  “Hold up!” said Cole, stopping them as they crested a ridge. He could see a dust cloud ahead of them, slightly different from the steam that billowed up from other canyons, rising from below the ridge of a crevice. He got low and sighted through his rifle at max magnification. Something had kicked up an awful lot of it—or several somethings. A fight, maybe. He couldn’t see what was on the ground behind the ridge, but there were birds circling in a thermal above the steaming canyon.

  “What is it?” asked Howie.

  “Something dead,” he said. “Those look like carrion birds.”

  Besson joined them a few minutes later, somewhat out of breath, Nutmeg at his side with her hackles raised. “Looks like a fight up ahead didn’t go well for someone. Blood and smoke in the air. Not sure what killed ‘em.”

  “Go through or go around?” asked Howie.

  “Go through,” said Cole. “They might have supplies we could use. Beth might have been part of the group, too.”

  The Termlink entry for Babel had listed dozens of types of monsters for each floor. From burrowing worms with rotating jaws, to spell-casting native hawk-men that struck from above with fire magic and spears, to amphibians that dwelt in thermal pools and steam vents, ready to spray scalding water. There was simply no way to know what they were up against without checking the bodies.

  With weapons at the ready, they headed toward the site of the battle. About a klick out, Cole began to give orders.

  “Rox, Besson, on point at the mouth of that canyon. Nona, on me. We’ll take the south ridge. Howie, up there,” said Cole, pointing to a trail that wound up the opposite side of a rise for a plunging angle on the canyon below.

  “You want IDF?” asked Howie.

  Cole shook his head. “Just make sure nothing is able to sneak up on us. I’ll provide support by fire.”

  They split, with each team heading out. Cole and Nona kept pace with Besson and Roxy for a while, but before long, Nona was gasping for air. Cole slowed them down as they moved to position themselves.

  Cole burned a portion of his ability for IFF marking. “Looks clear from here, proceed to the top of the descent.” he whispered into his radio, watching Besson and Roxy head down the slope. He eyed the woman huffing beside him with her own binoculars. “For how fast you get around, your cardio is awful,” he muttered to Nona as he lay down on the rock overlooking the valley below.

  “I’m only half-Earth,” said Nona, still trying to get her wind. “Your enhancement metrics are probably higher than what mine are. My ability lets me make use of the different sizes of different worlds to cross distance quickly. But it doesn’t make me a champion sprinter.”

  That was fair. Bricker had mentioned that Earth attunements tended to outshine otherworlders. Cole had taken it to mean their growth was much less limited and their baselines were higher due to better fitness and nutrition, but apparently their enhancement metrics made them scale faster with levels, too. What caused attuned Earth humans, who weren’t even native to Lewis Fields, to draw such strength from them? Nothing in the SOP or the Termlink files had offered a definitive answer. It was also why other worlds were so interested in attuned kids they could pull across dimensions.

  “In position,” called Howie.

  Down below, Besson and Roxy had taken position behind a rock face, out of view from the bottom of the canyon where they’d spotted the dust and smoke. Nutmeg followed closely behind, tail low and ears high.

  “Clear to advance,” said Cole, flipping his weapon off safe and belly-crawling up to the edge of the ridge.

  His point team swung around the corner, weapons raised.

  Time to see what danger lurked in the badlands.