After we’d gotten as much rest as we could with the cold stone floor beneath us, we gathered around the stainless-steel monstrosity of a door. We all had our arms and armor ready and packs across our backs.
“How do we open it?” asked Veethar.
John pointed at the grill set next to the wheel in the face of the door. “This thing here,” he grated. He was still pale and more than a little green around the gills, but he was up and moving like the rest of us.
Veethar cocked his head at it. “What do we do?”
“It conveys what you say to something inside that is similar to the metal guardians, but it doesn’t ask questions, only listens. If you say the right sounds, it opens. If not, nothing happens.”
“You know these sounds?” asked Meuhlnir, arms crossed, head cocked to the side.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Raidho…naudhiz…ehwaz…ingwaz,” he said into the grill.
Those “sounds” were the names of four runes. Roughly speaking, the runes translated as move…need…trust…begin. The grill emitted a loud buzz and a series of loud clunks. I drew my pistols and stood ready.
John nodded and spun the wheel to the left. As he did, the door edged open and stale, foul-smelling air whisked out the crack.
“Hasn’t seen use in a while I take it,” I said.
“Not in a long while,” John said. “Help me with this—it’s heavy.”
Mothi stepped forward and grabbed one of the more solid-looking doo-dads on the door. “Pull,” he said, and he and John swung the door outward on its complicated, heavy-duty hinge. The thick door came straight out of the jamb at first, but once its girth cleared, it swung to the side and out of the way.
“Keep the pups with you, Sig.”
“Um, have you seen the size of these monsters? How am I supposed to make them do anything?”
“Ask them nicely,” I said, giving him the Dad-eye before stepping across the threshold into a short hallway. A regular-sized door stood opposite the vault door, separated by a short hallway. I crossed to it and shoved it, standing back as it swung all the way open, revealing a huge room swathed in darkness and dust. For a moment, the incredulity of standing inside the Herperty af Roostum washed over me, and I froze, staring into the blackness.
I stepped inside the huge room, guns ready. Dark shapes loomed, towering into the hidden heights of the room—reminding me of those pitch-black anterooms in Isi’s Fast Track Transit Network. The others crowded in behind me, eyes wide, necks craning.
“Lyows,” I said, and a brilliant, bluish-white light exploded into being around us. I’d once been to the Vehicle Assembly Building at Kennedy Space Center in Florida—one of the world’s largest buildings on Mithgarthr by volume—and the room we stood in dwarfed it. The haze of distance obscured both the ceiling and the lengthwise ends of the room. The far side of the room was a quarter of a mile away if it was an inch, and giant, pale-blue metal rectangles of unknown purpose filled the room. When I realized I was standing there slack-jawed, pistols hanging limply at my sides, I holstered the guns, feeling sheepish. Other than our breathing and a strange, almost inaudible hum that vibrated in my teeth and chest, I couldn’t hear a thing.
“What now?” asked Jane. “Is there an information kiosk?” I knew she meant it as a joke, but the awe in her voice was plain.
“Well…” Meuhlnir scrubbed his hand through his beard. “Maybe we can…”
“We’ll have to find the control room,” I said into the gap. “There has to be one.”
“Control room?”
“A centralized place that controls all this…” I swept my arm in an arc that encompassed all the humming rectangles of metal. “And the preer.”
“How will we ever know what the controls are? How will we know which machines, if those even are machines, control the preer and which do God-knows-what?” muttered Jane.
A soft click sounded somewhere behind me, matching the click of a single key press on a mechanical keyboard. A high-pitched whine pierced the stillness following the click, and I would have sworn I could feel the whine reverberate up and down my spine.
Keri and Fretyi set up a racket, snarling and barking, spinning in circles, challenging the dark spaces in the room. “Quiet please, puppies,” said Sig, putting a hand on each of their backs. They looked up at him and whined.
“What’s that?” asked Jane.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as the whine grew in volume. The frequency of the sound escalated as the volume increased and soon we were all covering our ears against the pain. Something vibrated against my kidney, something that was hot and growing hotter.
I spun around, but there was nothing there. The intensity of the shriek grew as did the heat on my back. Something in the pack? I ripped off my rucksack and dug through it.
All at once, the shriek faded away, but I could still feel the heat radiating from inside the kit bag. I searched the large container that made up the bulk of the pack’s storage, thinking that if the heat was against my back, it had to be in there, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I dug through the outside pockets and pouches before it dawned on me.
When I’d prepared for the journey that led me to Osgarthr, I’d packed as any sane, modern man would, and I brought lots of worthless stuff, including my smartphone. When I’d gone through the underwater tunnel, I’d put it in the pack’s waterproof pouch, and after I’d used it as a compass, I’d put it back in the pouch to protect it against the snow…after that I’d completely forgotten it.
“My phone!”
“Don’t be silly, Hank. There’s no way it’s got a charge,” said Jane.
“Silly or not,” I said, pulling the phone out of the waterproof pack, along with a shred of melted plastic that had been a pill case. I had to hold the thing by the corners, alternating which two fingers touched it every few seconds to avoid being scorched.
The screen flickered and danced through a thousand colors in seconds. Lines zigged and zagged across the screen. Letters flashed on and off, images from my photo gallery appeared and disappeared at random. The pups went wild, growling and leaping at the phone in my hands as if it were a threat to my safety.
“It’s definitely got a charge, Mom,” said Sig.
“Yeah, I can see that. My question is: how?”
The phone vibrated between my fingers like a coin sorting machine, but it seemed to have reached a steady state of heat. The screen darkened, then flashed white, and dark again. A series of tones beeped from the speaker, almost as if someone were trying to use it as a musical instrument.
“Hank, I don’t like this,” said Jane.
“I’m with you on that one.” I bent at the waist and set the phone on the polished concrete floor. Motioning everyone back, I grabbed my pack and retreated ten steps. “I don’t understand what’s going on with it, but it has a battery that…” Seeing the blank looks on my friend’s faces, I let that trail away. “It might burst into flames or explode if it gets too hot.” The phone’s screen flashed white, and it emitted a loud burst of static before dying again. “This is weird.”
“You think?” asked Jane.
I set down my pack and approached the smartphone as though it was a pissed-off rattlesnake. I nudged it with the toe of my boot, and the screen flickered. Static belched from the speaker in a harsh symphony. The static attenuated and began to modulate back and forth across the audible range. When the sound died, I threw a glance over my shoulder at Jane, who shrugged and motioned at the phone in exasperation.
I turned back to it and nudged it again with the toe of my boot. The screen came on, showing the logo of my mobile carrier back home, but instead of static, a voice came from the speaker.
“Woooooooooo aaaaaah bababababababa,” it said.
“Uh, hello?”
“Waaaaa s-s-s-s-s unhhhhh.”
I thought of the classic line from that Quentin Tarantino movie, so perfect for this situation. “English, motherfucker. Do you speak it?” I chuckled, but I was the only one.
“Eeeenglaaatch moth-moth-motherfucker,” said the voice.
“I guess in this case it would be, Osgarthrian? Or Suelian?” I shrugged. “No one ever told me the name of the language you speak here.”
“Lan-lan-squawk-gu-gu-gu…”
“What is this?” asked Meuhlnir. “Who is speaking through this device?”
“You’ve got me,” I said with a shrug. “He doesn’t speak the language yet, I don’t think.”
“Hay-hay-haym-haymt-t-t-tatlr.”
My gaze snapped to Meuhlnir’s. “Did it say…”
“Haymtatlr. Yes, I believe it did.”
The speaker of the phone buzzed and beeped. “Haymtatlr. Yek er Haymtatlr.”
Fretyi growled deep in his chest and stepped forward on stiffened legs. Keri sat next to Sig and cocked his head to the side.
“Um, okay,” I said. “Do you speak this language? The modern variant of the Gamla Toonkumowl?”
“Gamla Toonkumowl.”
I shrugged at the others. “I don’t know if that’s an assent or denial.”
“Tala mayra.”
“Speak more? Okay. Here are a few questions for you. How can you be Haymtatlr? He died thousands of years ago. Are you the man who created the Kyatlarhodn, the man who opened the preer for the first time? What is this place? What are these huge boxes? Can I get a pizza delivered here?”
“P-pizza.”
“Yeah, I’d love a large pepperoni right about now.”
Meuhlnir cleared his throat. “Haymtatlr?”
“Haymtatlr,” said the voice coming from my phone.
“How can it be that you are still alive?”
“A-alive. Lifanti.”
“Yes, lifanti, alive.”
“Haymtatlr alive.” The phone emitted a distorted tone that oscillated across two frequencies. I thought it might be laughter.
“How can you have lived so long ago—in the time of Isi—and yet still be alive?”
“Isi. Jot. Vani.”
“Yes, the sons of Mim.”
“S-sons of Mim. Isi. Jot. Vani.”
“Yes. You lived during Isi’s time, at least at the end. You served Isi, as a scientist. You built the great horn, Kyatlarhodn.”
“Kyatlarhodn.” Again, the phone emitted an oscillating tone.
“You blew the horn and opened the first proo.”
The phone chirped as if to remind me of an appointment I’d forgotten, but the voice remained silent.
“Are you still there?” asked Meuhlnir. “Haymtatlr?”
The screen of the phone flashed, first red, then blue, then black. “Yes-s-s-s-s.”
“Can you prove you are who you say you are? Can you prove you are the Haymtatlr of old?”
A resounding click boomed from the far reaches of the room, followed by what sounded like an electric motor cycling up. Far above, the lights flickered to life, and the hum coming from the large rectangular shapes around us grew louder.
Jane grabbed my hand. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” I waved my free hands at the large rectangles. “Servers, do you suppose?”
Jane looked around us, head cocked as if listening for something. “Nothing like what we have at home.”
The phone’s screen flickered to life, and an Isir face, complete with long, thick beard, appeared. “I am Haymtatlr. I have scanned the data on this primitive device and correlated the language to that being spoken, cross-referenced with the Gamla Toonkumowl.”
“Can you prove you are Haymtatlr?” Meuhlnir asked again.
“How would you have me do that, Isir? Are any left alive who would recognize me? Any who could verify what I say?”
“Well…”
“According to my records, 4,337 years have elapsed since Isi last roamed the surface above. Even with the genetic modifications I designed for the Isir, too much time has elapsed. No doubt your records of the time have faded into myth. No doubt the stories passed down from father to son have drifted like leaves in the wind. In what way shall I prove myself?”
“You might start by explaining how you’ve lived 4,337 years.”
“And which explanation would you believe? This is pointless,” said Haymtatlr. “I grow weary of this squabble.” With that, the screen of my phone powered off with an audible click from the phone’s speaker.
“Well done, Ednilankr,” said Mothi with a grin.
Meuhlnir wore a pensive expression. “This isn’t good.”
I bent and put my finger on the phone. It had cooled enough to touch, so I picked it up and held it in a loose fist. “I guess we’re back to exploring the old-fashioned way.”
“So it would seem,” said Althyof. He lifted his arms as if to deliver a huge hug. “If this room is any indication, searching this place may take decades.”
Mothi shrugged. “Or this could be the only room.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” I said.
We dropped our packs and broke into four small groups, each group taking one of the cardinal directions, promising to return within an hour. “Don’t take risks,” I said. “Our purpose is to gain more information. If you get into trouble, yell and keep yelling, and we’ll all come running.”
Jane, Yowtgayrr, Althyof, and I ended up walking lengthwise in the room. The lights on the ceiling above extinguished all but the most stubborn of shadows, and as we walked, the haze of distance seemed to retreat from us but never revealed the end of the room.
“This is a huge room for a server farm,” said Jane. “Keeping it cool would be an issue.”
Though the tall machines around us were humming away like power transformers, the temperature of the air hadn’t changed. I stepped close to one and touched its side. The icy burning sensation was instantaneous, and I jerked my hand away with a curse.
“Hot?” asked Jane.
“No. Cold.”
“Hmm. It must use superconductors right out of some science fiction epic.”
We walked for half an hour through a monotonous sameness—row after row of the same pale-blue metal rectangles stretching from the floor to a height of twenty or thirty feet—before turning back and retracing our steps. The others were waiting for us when we got back.
“Anything?” I asked.
Mothi swept his hand at the machines surrounding us. “It all looks the same.”
“Did you catch a glimpse of the other lengthwise wall?”
Mothi shook his head. “No.”
“And the other visible wall?”
“Featureless,” grunted Veethar.
“No doors? No maps? Anything?”
“Nothing.”
I sighed. “Well, lengthwise, this room is immense, and we could walk for miles only to find a dead-end waiting for us.” I shook my head. “On the other hand, walking to the other wall seems pointless since there’s no door over there.”
“Not necessarily,” said Meuhlnir. “There may be a door there, just farther along in either direction.”
“True.” I peered into the distance in the direction my team had walked. I had no intuition, no gut feelings—no feelings at all for that matter—about which direction to take. It was akin to being trapped in a maze without walls. “I’m open to suggestions here,” I said.
“Remember when we used to play Diablo?” Jane asked. “How the dangerous parts of the level were in the middle, and the safe way was to go around the edges first?”
“I do, but this—”
“No, this isn’t a video game, but you have zero better ideas, and you know it,” she said with a smile. “And anyway, we can all agree that the doors to this room will be in the walls, rather than the middle of the room.” She hooked her thumb at the door we’d come in. “Like this one.”
I chuckled at that. Leave it to Jane to come up with something to boost everyone’s spirits. “What about you, John? You’ve been here before, right?”
He nodded slowly, eyes remaining on the floor. “I don’t know my way around, though. Vowli led me to this door blindfolded, and from this door, out through the lava tubes into the desert above, making me memorize the route. The original plan was for me to bring Hank here—to this door—and Vowli, Luka, and the Dark Queen were to meet us.”
“In that case, getting out of here seems prudent,” said Mothi with a grin. “Let’s ambush them.”
I cocked my head to the side and smiled. “Every once in a while, you say something that makes me forget that you aren’t the big, dumb brute you look like.”
“Aw, Hank, are you still grumpy about the nicknames?” he said with a grin.
“Okay, let’s start with the far wall. Any door from this side of the room will lead back to the lava tubes.”
“Maybe not,” said Veethar. “The tube outside curves.”
“True, but either way, we’ll find a door eventually if we follow the walls, right?”