Higo: The Ridderroque
Eight Years Ago
Regan sat behind the controls of a small submarine with Baiyren in the navigator’s seat beside her. She’d donned a guardsman’s gray and black uniform, while he wore a nondescript sand-colored shirt and black pants.
“You’d better be right about this,” she grumbled, easing back on the controls and letting the sub drift with the current. Water dominated the view, dark and murky and filled with colorful fish. “If your father finds out, he’ll have our heads.”
“It’ll be worth it,” Baiyren said with a grin. He placed an ancient book on his lap and started leafing through it. The sound of turning pages broke the cabin’s stillness. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence pilgrims found you on the Ridderroque.”
“Why not? Monks come here once a year. Whoever left me made sure someone would find me.” A faint smell of aged paper tickled Regan’s nose, and she drew it in. The scent reminded her of the library in Haven. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she muttered. “Your father was just starting to like me.”
“My father adores you,” Baiyren said, without a hint of jealousy. “You’re the daughter he never had.”
“He only wanted a daughter because his sons were such a disappointment.”
“Maybe,” Baiyren countered. “He thought he’d have more success with a girl.”
Regan snorted. “Not if he finds out about this.” She stabbed a finger at the thick tome. “I don’t care if you are the crown prince, that book isn’t supposed to leave the Sanctuary.”
Baiyren shrugged. “We have two, one for the king and one for the church. The one in Haven was written first, which makes this a copy.” He lifted the tome; its spine cracked ominously. “How is a copy any different from a million reprints?”
“Because everyone believes it is. The Zhoku is our holiest book. The scribes who recorded Ojin Muhabat’s visions created a second one as soon as they could. The first stayed with the church; the second went to the king. Bringing it here is both sacrilegious and irresponsible.”
Baiyren raised an eyebrow. “So you do believe,” he teased. “I guess the high priest didn’t waste everything he invested in you.”
“I didn’t say I believed,” Regan answered. Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air. “If word gets out, we’ll both be in trouble.”
Baiyren lowered the book back to his lap and turned a few more pages. “You worry too much.”
“And you’re too impulsive. You shouldn’t just run off on a whim. Your people depend on you.” Baiyren opened his mouth, but she waved him off. “You still haven’t told me what we’re looking for.”
“This,” he said, tapping the page. A triumphant gleam set his dark silver eyes on fire. On the left, a firm, flowing script moved in horizontal lines away from the binding, while on the right, a picture of a huge, muscular man filled the entire space. The man knelt before a starry field, hefting a sphere onto his burly shoulders. Oceans covered most of the globe, bigger and more abundant than the ones on Higo. The seven continents floating in the seas looked as if some great calamity had torn them from a once gargantuan whole.
Enthralled, Regan looked closer. “What does it mean?” she whispered. Something about the drawing left her breathless.
Baiyren shook his head. “I’m not sure. The writing’s ancient. It talks about a keystone.” He tapped a line along the top. “This gives a general location; the rest’s either vague or hard to translate, I’m not sure which. We’re in the right spot, though.” He pointed to a hand-drawn compass on the page, below which symbols dropped toward the bottom of the book. “We should find a copy of the glyph somewhere along this wall.”
Regan scanned the sheer cliffs. A large sea reptile, its body colored to match the rock, sprang from its hiding place, snapped its jaws around a large dolphin, and swam away. “This won’t be easy,” she said. “A rock slide could have buried it a long time ago or it could have eroded over time. That book is older than almost anything else on Higo. What are the chances a carving survived?”
She swept the rock with the sub’s external camera and found nothing. A second pass yielded the same result, as did the third. Shortly into the fourth, she caught a line of bubbles seeping out of the seemingly solid rock and zoomed in.
“There it is.” Her voice was a quiet breath. “Just like the book says.” A tap of the controls widened both light and image. Regan’s body thrummed with excitement. She saw the lines carved into the rock and traced them over a large expanse of smooth stone. An exact replica of what Baiyren found in the Zhoku, but larger. A hundred times larger. Tall and proud and undamaged by time: the man, their god, holding a great globe on his burly shoulders. Her eyes met Baiyren’s. “Do you know how to get inside?”
“No, at least not yet.”
Regan bit back a reply. He’d brought them all the way here without that key piece of information? She should be furious with him, but, oddly, she wasn’t. Baiyren didn’t plan for anything; he never had. Events swirled around him, and when they settled, they always seemed to land in his favor. It wouldn’t always be that way. Life had a way of evening the odds. Sooner or later, she needed to teach him how to plan while remaining flexible. Battles favored those who did both.
“Wait a minute.” He stopped skimming the pages, reached into his shirt, and pulled out the Heartstone. “I want to try something.” Concentration lined his face, and a minute later sweat coated his brow. He muttered something she couldn’t hear, and a halo of golden light erupted from the stone, approached the large, glass window, and passed through as easily as sunlight in a forest. The beam crossed the space between the ship and the rocks and hit the wall.
Regan reached for Baiyren’s hand. She squeezed but didn’t look at him, couldn’t tear her eyes from the bright image before her. Four lines had appeared in the rock. Two pairs: one horizontal, one vertical. They flew around the perimeter in a wash of bubbles; when they connected, a large rectangular block fell back to reveal an entrance.
“I knew it!” Baiyren said triumphantly.
“Really?” Regan crossed her arms and tried to mask her discomfort. “You expected the Heartstone to do that? You’re holding out on me, Baiyren.”
Baiyren seemed genuinely surprised. “No not really,” he admitted. “The stone’s never done anything. Not once. I don’t know how many kings we’ve had but you’d think you’d find a record of something like that happening. And we don’t. No one in my family’s ever believed what the Zhoku said about the pendant either.”
“But you did?”
“It felt right,” Baiyren said sheepishly.
Regan stared into the darkness. “I don’t know about this.”
“I do. We’ve had the Heartstone for millions of years. My ancestors trusted it. And I do too.”
Regan didn’t; she hated what she couldn’t explain. Baiyren thought the Ridderroque held the key to her past. He’d spent hours studying anything he could find about the mountain, digging through histories, diaries, and relics. When he uncovered references to a sealed hall beneath the mountain, she began to believe too. It’s why she’d come.
“You could have made it an order, you know,” she said, easing the sub forward. “You’re the crown prince.”
“I’d rather have you go because you wanted to. You’ll make better decisions if you’re invested.”
“Better decisions or amenable ones? A person’s less inclined to disagree if she’s invested.”
Baiyren shrugged. At least he had the good grace to look sheepish. She believed he’d make a good king someday – a man the people would love.
They crawled ahead, Regan checking and rechecking the instruments, Baiyren paging through the Zhoku. One mile in. Two. At three, a cavern opened overhead; at four, columned light lanced through the roof, and she angled upward.
They surfaced in a cave large enough to swallow half the capital city. Glowing gemstones gave off a startling amount of light, just not enough to chase the shadows from the infinite space overhead. She spun her chair to face Baiyren.
“We stay together,” she said. “And we don’t touch anything. Just because the Heartstone brought us here doesn’t mean it’s safe; we have no idea what’s out there.”
Baiyren bristled, but didn’t argue. Regan watched him for a moment, then, rising, she shouldered her prepared bag and led him to the pressure-sealed doors. A stone-lined quay greeted them outside, old and dusty and running several hundred yards from the water to an oblong hole in the floor. Smooth steps disappeared into the darkness. Regan drew a light from her belt, unholstered a small pistol, and headed down. She left the steps after an easy climb and followed a wide hallway to a set of towering doors. Unlocked and open, the doors fed an enormous chamber. Stone columns climbed from the floor in parallel rows before curving toward one another. These met on either side of an even larger pillar, fifty feet wide and glowing with an inner light. Breathtaking colors swirled inside, gold and silver, black and amber.
Regan stopped and pointed. “What am I looking at, Baiyren?”
The prince joined her in the middle of a tiled floor. “A shrine, maybe?” He stepped forward, his eyes scanning, his face intent. “Is that…? Yes! Look, Regan. Something’s in there.” He jabbed a finger at the column, moved it up then down as if drawing. “Do you see it?”
Regan squinted, and a vague outline took shape in her head. It was massive, easily two hundred feet tall, and disturbingly humanoid. Thick, armored plates covered the body – arms and hands, torso, legs and feet. A golden helm sat low over the face, leaving only a pair of ebon eyes visible. Below them, a smooth guard hid everything to the chin and neck, the plate molded from a single metal piece.
“Armor,” Regan said, noting the wide, flaring rings welded to the back of the helm, the gauntlets, the covered joints and seams.
“No armor’s that big.” Baiyren said it gently, but his tone carried a hint of scholarly condescension. “We need to see what we’re dealing with.”
Regan moved in front of him. “You don’t do anything until I clear it. I’m responsible for your safety.” She flicked her head at the entrance. “You were lucky with the doors. This could be different.”
“How are you supposed to protect me when you don’t know what to look for?”
“And you do?” Regan crossed her arms. The golden statue troubled her. An aura of power surrounded it, an undeniable air of battle, of wars fought and won against great odds. She didn’t want him to go anywhere near the thing.
“I know enough to avoid any major traps. And I think,” he added, drawing the Heartstone from his shirt, “this will keep me safe.” His voice was steady, but he didn’t look like he believed what he said. More likely, he found an excuse she couldn’t refute – not after the stone seemed to open the cavern entrance.
Melancholy nipped Regan like a frost-touched flower. What happened to the earnest boy she met when she’d first come to Higo? Her eyes drifted to the trapped armor. Maybe the answers she sought were here after all. “All right, Baiyren,” she said, nodding deferentially. “But you have to tell me if you sense anything. Agreed?”
“Safety in numbers.” Baiyren grinned. They prowled across the floor together. At the halfway point, Baiyren held up a hand.
“What is it?” The tingling on Regan’s skin returned, a kind of electric current, a sign. A warning.
Baiyren looked down. “I didn’t notice at first, but the tiles have runes inside.”
Regan’s pulse quickened. “Can you read them?”
“It’s too dark. I’ll need more light.”
Regan reached for the small torch in her belt, but the Heartstone flared before her hand touched it. A brilliant and dazzling glow illuminated the chamber. Baiyren didn’t blink or shield his eyes, and while she stared at the stone, half in wonder, half in fear, his attention remained on the floor.
Ancient lettering burned inside each square, filaments of shining silver, copper and diamond-accented gold. Baiyren’s gaze swept from one tile to the next, studying each intently before moving on. His eyes widened. “Mah-zhin,” he said, pointing at the golden giant. “That’s a mah-zhin!”
Regan fought for breath. Mah-zhin, one of two legendary protectors sworn to God. “You’re sure?” she asked. A feeling of unease grew in the pit of her stomach. “Baiyren. You need to back away.” Nothing good would come from this. “Now, Baiyren.”
Baiyren didn’t seem to hear. He stumbled forward, the finger he’d jabbed at the armor tracing in the air. His lips moved but no words came out. Slowly, he lifted his chin and stared into the armor’s black eyes.
“Yohshin,” he said. “Is that your name?” The mah-zhin didn’t answer, which only irritated Baiyren. Face reddening, he lifted the Heartstone and thrust it forward. “I carry the Heartstone, mah-zhin. I am a prince of Higo, heir to the throne and son of Lord Roarke’s steward. I command you to answer!”
A great tremor shook the chamber. Rock splintered and burst, and the pillar surrounding the armor shattered. Regan lunged for Baiyren, but an invisible wall came down between them. She pounded against the solidified air but couldn’t break through.
Baiyren stood motionless before the ruined column. Across the floor, an enormous foot emerged from smoke and dust and landed on the tile with a sharp crack. A golden body followed, and as it came forward, the armor bent down to study the boy. Wisdom shone in those ebon pools, and infinity and emptiness.
“Is it really you?” the giant asked in a great booming voice. “He said you would come. He promised.” The mah-zhin brought its head closer. “Something feels different in you, but you do carry the Heartstone.” It pulled back. “The synchronization will tell me more.”
Synchronization? The word thundered in Regan’s head. She glanced at Baiyren. He looked oblivious, bewitched even. Maybe he really believed the Heartstone protected him. Regan couldn’t afford to take the chance. Already, his body had taken on a filmy quality, shimmering and dissipating like a swarm of startled fireflies.
Regan brought her pistol up and leveled the muzzle in one fluid motion. “What have you done with him?” she said to the armored figure.
“It’s all right, Regan.” Baiyren’s voice echoed throughout the chamber as if amplified. “I’m fine. I’m inside the mah-zhin.”
Inside… Relief and new concerns collided in Regan’s head.
“It’s incredible,” Baiyren continued. “I can control the armor with a simple thought.”
Control it? That didn’t seem right. A thirteen year-old boy controlling a god warrior?
“You don’t know anything about it,” Regan warned. “Who made it, why they made it. We should leave it alone until we can get our researchers out here to examine it. Come on, Baiyren. You’ve been in there long enough; you need to get out.”
“Give me a minute.” Time ticked by, the seconds crawling. “The mah-zhin’s not like a ship; I’m not sure what it is.”
“It’s all right,” Regan told him. “We can do an in-depth search back home. I’m sure the royal scientists will know what to do.” She stared at the magnificent armor. So huge, so powerful. The chill she felt earlier returned, the foreboding. Again, she rubbed her arms. Something nagged at her. A thought, a recent conversation. And then it came to her. Mouth dry, she flicked her tongue over her lips. “Baiyren,” she said, hoarsely. “The Zhoku says Lord Zar Ranok had two protectors. Where’s the other one?”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. When Baiyren finally spoke, he sounded troubled. “The other mah-zhin is buried beneath Tsurmak. Kaidan just started building a fortress there. He’s digging right for it.”