Zembi’s lips formed what might have been a smile as he shuddered for the final time, slumping into death with an inhuman rattle.
“What language was that?” Clay said as Kriz continued to kneel at Zembi’s side, her fingers twitching on the crystal shard.
“The ancient tongue,” she murmured, not lifting her gaze from the body.
“What did he tell you?”
Kriz didn’t reply, instead raising the crystal shard and staring into its many facets. Clay was about to demand an answer when the floor suddenly shifted beneath his feet. A deep, muted rumble filled the chamber as the tremor continued, the floating crystal taking on a rapid flicker.
“The fault-line is shifting,” Kriz said as the tremor subsided. “We don’t have long.”
She gave Zembi a final, damp-eyed glance before wiping her tears away and getting to her feet. “To answer your question,” she said, switching to Mandinorian as she turned to address all three of them, “he told me the way out.”
She gathered up her pack and moved towards the rear of the chamber, Clay and the others hurrying to follow suit. The tremor rose and fell in intensity as they made their way onto the circle where the plinth lay. Clay noticed how the crystal’s flicker seemed to match the tremor, the stronger it was the dimmer it became.
“Fluctuations in the energy flow,” Kriz explained, dropping back into her own language as she hurried towards the plinth. “The Philos geologists estimated the fault would remain stable for at least another twenty thousand years.” She winced as an even more powerful tremor shook the chamber and a booming crack came from the shadows. “It seems they were overly optimistic.”
“What’s she saying, cuz?” Loriabeth asked.
“We need to get out of here,” Clay replied, side-stepping a stream of powdered rock that came cascading down from above. “And damn quick, by the sound of it.”
Kriz pressed her hand to the crystal embedded in the plinth, which failed to respond with the expected flare of light. Cursing, she tried again, this time the crystal producing a faint, fluttering glow. The stone beneath their feet gave an alarming jerk, the circle revolving as it dislodged itself from the floor and began to ascend.
“What about the ice?” Clay asked Kriz, peering into the murky heights above.
“I suspect it’s partially melted,” she said. “However the exit is likely to still be submerged.”
“So we swim out?”
Kriz’s expression brought to mind Sigoral’s suspicions about her viewing them as little more than useful savages. “No,” she said after a moment. “We fly.”
They ascended for what seemed an age, the platform continuing to shake as fresh cascades of dust and grit fell all around. The shaft grew so dark that Sigoral and Loriabeth relit their lanterns, though, when they turned the beams upwards they failed to reveal the top of the shaft.
“This thing ever gonna stop?” Loriabeth wondered, the lantern swaying as she fought to maintain her balance. The beam alighted on Kriz for a second, Clay noting how her face seemed strangely free of alarm. Instead she wore a preoccupied frown, her hand clutching the crystal shard about her neck.
“What is that?” he asked, moving closer to touch the shard.
She stepped away, a sharp scowl of warning on her brow as she gave a terse reply, “Memory.”
The platform juddered and began to slow, the lanterns revealing a fast-approaching ceiling. It resembled the giant cog-like door on the exterior of the spire, revolving and sending yet more dust down upon them as it slid aside. A great rush of wind whipped around them, Clay feeling himself being partially lifted as air was sucked into the opening above.
“Another vacuum,” Sigoral shouted above the wind.
The wind died as the platform rose to fill the opening, leaving them standing in a large darkened chamber. The tremors continued unabated. If anything, Clay sensed an added violence to the shaking, his alarm increasing with every booming crack that echoed through the chamber. This place is coming down soon.
“There,” Kriz said as Loriabeth’s lantern beam caught the edge of a large curved shape several yards away. She started forward at a run, Clay and the others following.
“What in the Travail is that?” Loriabeth said as the lanterns revealed more of the shape, the massive elongated ball, the enclosed boat-shaped gondola beneath and the two propelling engines on either side.
“Aerostat,” Clay said in Kriz’s language which drew only a baffled glance. “A flying machine,” he explained. “Like a balloon, except you can steer it.”
“And where are we supposed to fly to?” Sigoral asked.
“To be honest, I ain’t too sure.”
A clanking sound came from the right, the lanterns swinging towards it to reveal Kriz’s slender form climbing into a hatch in the gondola. After a second her head poked out of the hatch, staring at them with stern impatience. “Well, come on then,” she said before disappearing back inside.
“Cuz . . .” Loriabeth began with evident unease, then fell silent as another tremor came close to tipping them from their feet.
“We’re all out of options, Lori,” Clay said, moving to the hatch. He clambered inside, finding Kriz standing before an array of levers and small wheels sprouting from a panel at the front of the gondola. The panel also featured several dials and Clay was surprised to find he could read a good portion of the symbols they displayed.
“‘Pressure low,’” he said, peering at the largest dial where the arrow-shaped indicator hovered over a red-coloured symbol. “What’s that mean?”
“It means we’re in for an eventful flight,” Kriz replied, her hands flying from one lever to another with automatic familiarity. “You best secure yourselves.” She jerked her head at the six seats arranged along both sides of the gondola’s interior, each rigged with straps.
“How do we get out?” he asked, lingering to peer through the window at the darkened chamber beyond. “Can’t see no door.”
Kriz’s hand darted out to touch a small crystal in the centre of the panel, which immediately lit up with a familiar chime. After a short delay a curving white line appeared in the gloom outside the window, expanding into a gap that flooded the chamber with light. Clay blinked moisture from his eyes at the sudden glare, then found himself squinting at the mountains they had traversed to get here.
Kriz spun a wheel which caused the arrow on the pressure dial to move away from the red symbol. Clay felt the gondola shift as it lifted from the floor, the widening gap outside tilting to and fro before Kriz took hold of the largest lever. She hauled it into a central position, the craft levelling out in response. “Go sit down,” she ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Clay nodded and started towards the seats then paused as he saw her expression change, the frown morphing into a surprised grimace. Clay followed her gaze, seeing the expanding light reveal the bulbous form of another aerostat thirty or so yards away.
“What is it?” he asked Kriz as she continued to stare at the craft.
“Only one other aerostat,” she said, turning back to the panel. “There were supposed to be two.”
She gestured impatiently at the seats where Sigoral and Loriabeth were already strapped in. Clay took the nearest seat and buckled on the straps, watching Kriz hesitate as her hand reached for two other levers, both placed in close proximity on the panel presumably so they could be pushed at the same time. She closed her eyes as her hand continued to hover, making Clay wonder at the true scale of the risk they were about to undertake. Whatever qualms she had were overcome when another boom sounded from outside, the loudest so far. Clay saw a large chunk of masonry tumble past the window, quickly followed by several more.