He could imagine his uncle, out there in the sun.There werebones on his robes.There was parasite magic in his eyes.There was a ring ofthralls surrounding him, a cloud of necromancy in the air, and a bank of metaldevices at his hands, controlling a titan that rivaled the size of gods.
“I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
His arm remained useless in the sling.Every breath wasshort and wanting.
“Go,” he said.
Zaria nodded, slapped him on the back, and began to crawlthrough the tunnel of ossein, holding Soren’s cutlass tightly in hand.
Isaac stooped to a low crouch, slowly walking through themetal cylinder.His boots scraped over the residue of some long-evaporatedfluid, as well as a noticeable series of carbon scores.The metal smelledfaintly of chemicals.He could not say what it might’ve been.
At the end of the tunnel, the sunlight grew painfullybright.He stood on the edge, trying to adjust his vision.
“Isaac!”
He straightened his back, adjusting his robes, wiping hishair from his eyes.Every morning, he would follow the same routine.
Here, now, there was a quiet in the metal, broken only bythe squalls of air overhead.He remembered camping in the shadow of a slotcanyon, sometime during his first night in the desert.He had rested in theshade, listening to the wind, imagining all the perils he would face in thetomb.
He had imagined facing an ancient necromancer.
A being of pure evil.
He had been alone, then.Same as he was now.He always knewthat he would embark on his journey alone.Now, it seemed as if this was theway it would end.
He stepped into the light.
ChapterTwenty
TheCost of Silence, Part One
“Uncle!”
Ahead,through an ocean of bone, there was an altar raised upon a pyramid.Pipes andwires crawled along the masonry, mixed with the rising of granite columns.Inthe center of the altar, there was a bank of metal devices, thrumming with thepower of souls.
“Uncle!”
A stripof shattered concrete led directly to the pyramid.On both sides, there wererows of skeletons, all of which had been crucified against the broken pieces ofthe ships.The flag of the necromancers was draped around their bodies—with thedesert sun shining above, the ancient fabric still contained the hints of red,white, and blue.
“Uncle!”
Therewas movement at the altar.A cloud of bone flitted through the air.A trio ofthralls spread along the edge of the pyramid, their black robes cutting througha fog of souls.
In thecenter, Berith stood black and tall.
Isaackept his gaze on his uncle.He did not need to look to see the signs of thecolossus.The world was filled with its shadow.A cage of ribs slashed acrossthe ossein.A reptilian skull stamped a gruesome sigil on the cavern wall, thejaw clicking and heaving.In every direction, he could see the contour of ashoulder, the slope of a pelvis, the carnivore bristle of teeth, the spine of abony tail.Far in the distance, he could see the wreckage of a pirate skimmer,the hull smashed so thoroughly into a bed of concrete that it resembled littlemore than a swatted fly.He could not tell if the rest of the Crookspur navyhad fared the same way.
Theworld was silent.
Likealways, they were alone.
“I toldyou to leave,” Berith said.
Isaacdid not answer.
Hisuncle walked to the side, trailing a hand along the metal instruments.“Whathappened to you?Are you hurt?”
Isaacclutched his arm, silent.A shower of dirt fell from the sky.
