Mike Wild - The Crucible of the Dragon God

What the hells? There should be hours yet!

Clearly, though, the last tremor had disturbed the processes, and the spawning cycle had begun early.

Things were rising from the floor.

Things was the only way to describe them because they were not k'nid. Not yet. Whatever processes occurred in that unnatural soup, they had clearly been interrupted part way through because what emerged before her eyes were more than monstrosities, they were true horrors. Demented things that thrashed and bashed themselves against the sides of the pools and up onto the floor like landed fish, all the while screaming in the manner of things possessed. Some of the part-formed k'nid headed directly for a wrent in the side of the Crucible but a good number began throwing themselves around the chamber in a lethal hail that threatened to tear her to pieces.

Kali didn't hesitate, running straight for the tri-arch and throwing herself onto it, scrambling up its length towards the suspended prism. The deformed k'nid leapt for her as she climbed, but thankfully, in their current state, seemed to lack the agility of their fully formed counterparts. Kali, her legs wrapped around the arch, thumped the prism repeatedly to loosen it, finally freeing it as the beleaguered structure quaked violently beneath her. She had just managed to secure the prism in her equipment belt when the whole tri-arch collapsed. Kali was already in the air, though. Launching herself towards the rope on which she'd entered and grabbing onto it with a grunt. The last thing she saw of the Crucible were the screeching k'nid being crushed beneath the tri-arch as it smashed into the birthing pools.

Kali's problems were only just beginning, however, because now that she had returned to the sphere proper, the extent of the damage from the last, dramatic tremor was clear. The whole of the sphere was skewed and groaning loudly, in danger of collapse. Worse, fires had broken out, fires that were triggering explosions in some of the laboratories — and each of those explosions were triggering others in turn. As the sphere shook once more about her, Kali realised that this was the end for Twilight, and she had to get back to Kerberos fast.

There was one thing, though, that she had to do first. And that was find out what Tharnak had meant when he had said she had been awaited. Because if the dwelf could answer that, maybe he could answer other questions too. Namely, why was she different and what, if any, connection was there between herself and the yassan?

Her hopes were dashed as soon as she entered Tharnak's chamber, however. His sphere was collapsed and leaking and the dwelf was sprawled half out of it, dying. It was a tragic and inappropriate end for such a creature and Kali knelt by him, trying to offer some comfort as she listened to his last, almost incoherent words. Then the dwelf slumped in her arms, and she realised there was nothing more she could do.

Twilight continuing to detonate around her, Kali raced for the bridge between spheres, hoping to the Gods that Dolorosa and the others had managed to free the holding mechanisms on the ship. As explosions followed her out of the doomed sphere, blowing the bridge apart yard by yard right on her heels, she burst into Kerberos and yelled: "Get her up! Don't wait for me! Do it now!"

Below, Slowhand and the others looked up quizzically. A sudden explosion that blew Kali yelling and flailing off the ledge, and into the air between them, quickly spurred them on. Within seconds Aldrededor leapt to the controls and the ship sat began to shudder upwards. Kali, meanwhile, slammed onto one of the sphere's walkways with a loud oof and, after a moment's disorientation, realised that the explosion had blown her within running distance of the cradle. As it rose a yard above the sphere's base, she was starting to think she might actually make it when a series of explosions from beneath the walkways blew flooring plates into her path and made a direct route to the ship impossible. Instead, she began to weave around the explosions, trying her best to estimate where the next might occur. But while she got a number of them right it was guesswork and, inevitably, she also got some wrong. It was during one such mistake, as she found herself being blown left, right and centre, surviving the blasts only through a series of dextrous somersaults, that she noticed Slowhand throwing the levers that had raised the cradle back to their original positions and the ship juddered to a halt.

"We're not leaving without you!"

"Like hells you're not! Slowhand, you have to get that thing out of here!"

"We'll do it, Hooper, but not without you!"

A detonation blew Kali forward and she cursed. "Go!"

Dolorosa joined the archer at the rail. "We cannot, because the sheep it has notta been named. Eet is very bad luck to launch a sheep withouta the name."

"It isn't launching yet, you stupid woman!"

"Eeta still musta be named!"

Kali knew full well that this was just Dolorosa using a delaying tactic, and she loved her for it, but time was fast running out.

"All right, all right!" she cried as she picked herself up and ran. "I name this ship — "

"That issa no good, Kali Hooper."

"What?"

"Eet is traditional to shatter the bottle of feezzy wine against the hull."

"Where am I going to get a bottle of feezzy wine, you daft old bat!" Kali shouted in exasperation, but it was already becoming clear that she was not going to win this exchange.

Even Aldrededor got in on the act, crowding in between them at the rail. "The alcohol is necessary, Kali Hooper. The… er… feezziness, it drives away the evil spirit."

"Oh, and what evil spirit would that be, Aldrededor? Your wife?"

"Hoh!" Dolorosa cried. "She thinka she issa the funny woman again!"

"Put the knife away, my angel. We are trying to save the boss, not kill her."

"Yes, yes, that ees right. I willa keel you later…"

"Is the message clear yet, Hooper? We're not going without you."

"Dammit!" Kali shouted as she continued to dodge, digging into her equipment belt as she did. "Fine, you want booze, here's booze!" She plucked a bottle of thwack from the belt and hurled it towards the ship. "Now bugger off!"

"That was notta feezzy wine."

"No, but it was my last bottle. That do?"

There was a collective intake of breath.

"Her…"

"… last…"

"… bottle?"

Slowhand worked the levers, winking broadly at Kali as he did so. "Then I guess it's time to go."

Damn the three of you, Kali thought, still moving. Because even though the cradle was rising again — her friends knew what was at stake, after all — they had delayed its rise just long enough.

"Aaargh!" Kali yelled with determination, and began to pound forward, forcing everything she had into the attempt.

But the explosions beneath the sphere's floor were almost constant now, making it buck and chop like a stormy sea. Kali found herself leaping from walkway to machine and back again as if the world itself were coming apart beneath her. The situation worked somewhat to her advantage, though, as the more plates that blew, the more she could see the fiery, roiling mass below, and she was able to time and locate the next explosion with greater accuracy than she had before. With Slowhand and the others urging her on, Kali began to use the plates as stepping stones. Dancing, sometimes nimbly and sometimes not so, between them as they rose, fell or flipped across the hangar. Finally, she reached an almost leapable distance to the rising cradle and, in a last ditch attempt to reach it, she quickly calculated where the next explosion was going to come from. Slowhand, Aldrededor and Dolorosa all realised her intent at the same time, and there was a simultaneous and rapid shaking of heads. But Kali knew that really, she had little choice. She leapt forwards just as a further heavy boom from beneath the floor sent a panel shooting upwards and, calculating her trajectory perfectly, landed on its just as the force of the detonation flipped it over in mid air. Kali, however, didn't wait for the flip to complete, instead letting it throw her into the air, into a position where she was able — just — to make a grab for the cradle with one hand. This she did, and then another hand slapped onto her own. A strong hand. Slowhand's.