Edgewise

25

She was totally off guard for the light that blasted her in the face. She sneezed, squinting through her watering eyes at the wavering opening in the wall. Holy shit, the exit! The rapidly closing exit, as the walls began to shift again. She stumbled forward, tripping over another stone because that was the nature of her existence. She rolled once she hit the ground refusing to let her fall halt her forward momentum. Who knew when the way would open again? She could be stuck in the dark for hours if she missed the opening now, a situation she knew would break her.

Calponia rolled until she knew she was in the clear, closing her eyes tight against the light as she sat up. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the sputtering torch, mounted overhead in an iron wall bracket. There was enough light to see the wall in front of her visibly shift, stones sliding over one another like the scales of a living creature. Neat trick, she thought, wondering what technology powered it on a world like Arden. Prying her gaze off the shifting stone, she realized she'd rolled out into a downward sloping passageway. A solid wall behind her made it the only direction to go. Another torch lit the space further down the way, a promise of steady light.

She sucked on her teeth, hoping that was the case as she followed the path in silent measured steps. No scraping walls here, only the faint crackle of the torches and something else, a low hum that grew stronger the further down she went. Uncertain what she was walking into, she paused at the corner, pressing against the wall as she peered around the corner straight into Frankenstein's lab.

She blinked. Wrong world, there were no living dead monsters in Shakespeare, unless she'd missed that play. What was she seeing? Massive gears and cogs turned in perfect synchronization along one wall, powering what mechanism she couldn't guess. The maze? More impressive were the giant coils spitting arcs of lightning between them. Intermittently, a bolt would shoot out from the coils, plunging into a waterfall that hissed and steamed. Make that laboratory meets sauna. Through the steam, on twin suspended platforms hung two figures in chains.

They were trussed up in identical fashion, but the two males were night and day to one another, the first a heavily muscled black man who looked like he'd give the Shaq a run for his money in height and muscle tone. In sharp contrast, the other man was delicate, a sugar spun waif, with white blond hair and bone white skin, as if all the color was bleached away from his person. The only note of color to him was the sky blue rags around his waist. Oh, and the blood. Both of them were rather bloody.

Calponia pulled back, steeling herself. After her turn on Sanguinheim, the sight made her queasy. "So sick of blood," she muttered. There appeared to be no one else in the room with the two bound men, who were no doubt Prospero's sons. Appearances were deceiving. A dilemma weighed on her thoughts. How long would they remain alone before the Big Bad made an appearance? If she was a gambling woman, she knew where she'd place her bets. She should wait for backup....what backup? Last she'd seen of the others they were being overwhelmed by undead Zealots, their fate unknown. Of course, Mack recovered from a spear to the chest so she refused to believe him down for the count. However, who knew when he'd make it down here; when anyone on team good guy would make it down here. Which meant it came down to her to save the day.

"Oh, bother," said Calponia, rounding the corner before she could talk herself out of it. She inched along the wall, as if that lessened her exposure in the vast open laboratory. It still made her feel better to have her back to the wall. This strategy worked well until her feet unerringly found a pile of loose gears strewn haphazardly across her path. Her foot kicked them before her mind registered their presence, creating a cacophony of sound. The behemoth looked up. She was close enough to see the incredulous sneer on his battered face.

"You must be joking," he grated.

"Please tell me that isn't our would be rescuer?" This came from the waif, in a voice as light and breathy as the rest of him.