Chapter 4: Landem

"Any enemy you can turn into an ally is an enemy you can more easily stab in the back." - Khorval Vhen, Third Emperor of Kem

Fear, real, heart-pounding, pants-ruining fear, was really hard to keep up for a long time. After long enough, you would eventually wear out your ability to keep it up and wind down into more generalized worry and paranoia. That or go mad.

Landem hadn’t gone mad, at least he didn’t think so. He was, however, far too tired to be as properly terrified of his situation as he should be. That and he was bored. Leading an operation to burgle the Citadel had, at the same time, been the most exhilarating and most stressful experiences of his life. Waking up to discover that he’d been captured by the Empire, with no clue what had happened to his team had been the most terrifying. Cooling his heels in what looked like an unused lab for hours had ground that initial terror down into tedium.

A pair of guards in full armor stood guard at the door, their featureless faceplates giving him no indication whether they were even paying any attention to him. Not that there was all that much for them to pay attention to. Landem was secured to his metal seat by Forgecrafted restraints. Nothing short of a key with the proper Etchings would get him out. Well, he supposed he could wait for the charge on them to run down. Once the Forgefire keeping the locking mechanisms active ran out they’d release and he’d be free. Of course, that could take weeks or months, depending on when they’d last been charged, so he wasn’t going to hold his breath.

There wasn’t much else in the room he could distract himself with. The lab didn’t appear to be frequently used, the workspaces empty, but clean. On the wall he faced was a large steel door that looked like it could be used to bring larger supplies into the lab. There was an odd smell in here that Landem couldn’t place, but he’d long since gotten used to it. What he wasn’t used to yet, was the pervading sense of unease he felt.

At first, Landem had thought that he was imagining it, or at least that it was just his fear of being so completely in the Empire’s clutches. He’d ruled that out because he was pretty sure what the Empire had in store for him, and the feelings that inspired was fear and anger. He was also worried about his team, but that was distinctly different than what he felt from those doors. There was nothing special about them, nothing to hint at their significance, but… There was something wrong here. Maybe it was the doors themselves, maybe it was something they concealed.

Still, even that sense of wrongness faded as he waited. The first guards left, replaced by another pair, equally as silent as the originals had been. Then they too were replaced. By the time the third set of guards had arrived, Landem was all but wishing for a confrontation. A fight. Anything to break the goddamned silence. He’d tried mocking each pair of guards, but it was hard when he had to strain his neck around to even see their blank, black glass faceplates and black steel armor. They might as well have been statues for all the rise Landem had managed to get out of them.

“Guys. I’ve been here for a while now.” Landem cast his voice over his shoulder, not expecting any sort of reaction, but feeling the need to break the silence. “A long, while. I don’t suppose a revolutionary can get a glass of water or something.” Silence. Landem wished that he could at least lay his head down on the metal table in front of his chair, but even that moment was prevented by his restraints. Just to be annoying, he started whistling tunelessly.

This was, of course, all part of the interrogation procedure. He’d expected more torture, fewer mind games, but he hadn’t really been captured before. If he’d been expecting mind games, he certainly couldn’t have predicted the “leave him alone in a creepy room for half a day” technique. He was actually more than a little grateful that they hadn’t given him any food or water because that prevented certain biological necessities. Not that he would have eaten or drank anything the Empire put in front of him. Not yet anyway.

The mission had been going perfectly. Celis, Ben, Devon and himself had infiltrated the Citadel using stolen uniforms and an authentic Etched pass key that gave them access to their objective, not to mention the clearance to be in the Forgecraft wing of the Citadel. They’d found the lab that they were aiming for, grabbed the piece of Forgetech that him informant had told them about, and were on their way out when the alarm sounded. He didn’t have any idea what had tripped the security, but that hardly mattered when the alarms were blaring.

Even still, their uniforms nearly got them to the main gates. Well, it got his people out the main gate. Right before it slammed down right in his face, nearly cutting him in half. The soldier manning the station, someone they’d somehow missed before trying to exit, began screaming bloody murder. Landem’s team had been ready to fight to the last, but even he could see that there was no point in everyone dying. Besides, if they got back to the hideout in time, they’d be able to get Issa out, maybe even those new weapon systems they’d managed to steal and would be arriving...today? Tomorrow? Yesterday? It was hard for Landem to know, stuck in this stone and steel box.

With luck, Celis and the rest of the crew would have already gotten to the hideout, cleared it and Issa out and moved to their primary safehouse. If they were smart, they’d skip town before the Empire could break Landem and make him spill his guts. And he would. Landem was too much of a realist to think that the Empire would screw up and kill him before pulling every piece of information possible out of him in the most inventive ways that they could devise.

And it seemed like they were ready to begin.

The door opened, and Landem could sense a change in the atmosphere in the room. He heard the guards clash their fists against their breastplates in the Imperial salute. This was also accompanied with a slight bow, though Landem wasn’t going to turn around to see it. From this point forward he’d need to play it as cool as he could. Keep from revealing any information for as long as he could to give his people as much of a head start as possible. Really, it had been foolish to leave him sitting for this long, but he wasn’t about to start doing the Empire’s job for it.

Landem closed his eyes and prepared himself to face his first interrogator. The footsteps coming toward him sounded of metal on the smooth stone floor. A higher ranking guard, perhaps? He’d been expecting an officer and they usually preferred more comfortable uniforms than the steel armor the grunts used when on duty. A shadow fell over him, and Landem fought not to look behind him, fought to control the nervous sweat that beaded his forehead.

And yet, Landem had been afraid before. He’d faced the guns of Imperial soldiers, fully believing he was going to die. And now, like then, he decided that if he was going to die, he was not going to do it easily. Nor would he do it quietly.

“Took you long enough.” Landem didn’t bother looking at whoever was approaching him from behind. Rather he closed his eyes and laid his head back, to the extent the chair allowed, acting for all the world like he was relaxing after a hard day’s work. He yawned, and rolled his shoulders, stretching as much as his restraints would allow. “I was expecting a certain level of professionalism from the Citadel, of all places.” The legs of the chair squeaked as the interrogator pulled it out, then the chair groaned as he settled his weight onto it. Landem gave him a little sneer without opening his eyes.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you.” Landem’s sneer vanished, and his eyes opened wide, his show of bravado completely erased by the fear that hit him like a punch to the gut. The voice that answered him was touched with sarcasm, but was deep and inhuman, with and underlay to it that was viscerally unsettling. He’d never heard the voice in person before. The recordings, it turned out, didn’t do the real thing justice.

Across the table from him sat a man encased in black steel, lines of silver inset in the maddeningly complicated runes of master grade Etching. Light flowed along the engravings, quickly in some places like water running down a slope, and pulsed slowly in others, giving the appearance the suit of armor might be breathing. Except for the faceplate. That was blank. No eyes, nose or any other obvious way for the man inside to perceive what happened around him. It’s attention on him was unnerving, but less so than the knowledge that Landem sat in the presence of Ghreman Vhen, Emperor of Kem.

“I’m afraid that my last appointment ran a little longer than anticipated.” The Emperor set a ornamented steel box on the table in front of him but otherwise paid it no mind. Instead, he leaned back, slightly, mimicking the calm Landem had been trying to project a moment earlier. “I have been looking forward to meeting you Mister Forth. Out of all the Sunderers, we could have captured, you present the most unique opportunities to me.”

Without being able to see Ghreman’s face, Landem was forced to imagine the smirk that the Emperor undoubtedly wore. The armor’s effect on his voice made it hard to tell, but Landem knew smug when he heard it. Here he was. The man who Landem hated more than any other, sitting here, mocking him. His fear didn’t disappear. He was too well acquainted with the physical power that the Emperor, fully armored, had at his disposal to not be intimidated. Still, his expression hardened into rebellious antagonism.

"Wow." Landem had been expecting many things: Pompous officers, cruel torturers, summary execution, experimental mad-science, among other things. This… This was almost too good an opportunity to waste. Few men had the opportunity to actually taunt the Emperor before they were executed. Well, tortured then executed, but Landem preferred not to dwell on that. "I did not think that the Master of the Blackforge would be so small a man as to come and gloat at me." Landem was worried that was why the Emperor was here. If he was here for some stereotypical gloating, perhaps his team hadn’t actually gotten clear.

"Gloat?" The Emperor sounded mildly offended. "Forgefire, no. No, Landem, I’m here to talk. Can I call you Landem?"

"Can I call you ’vile dictator’?" Landem braced himself for the blow he knew was coming and was moderately surprised when it didn’t.

"I suppose," allowed the Emperor, "But I think you’ll find it a cumbersome pejorative after a while. Lord Vhen or Ghreman will make this conversation much more comfortable, I think." While banter hadn’t been what Landem had expected during the course of his interrogation, it was preferable to the torture that would undoubtedly follow later. Still, the Emperor’s urbane manner was beginning to get on his nerves. Landem could just imagine the smirk behind that blank faceplate and it just pissed him off more.

"Right, because my comfort is the very height of your concern." Landem rattled the chains around his wrist and raised a mocking eyebrow at where he imagined Ghreman’s eyes must be. "I can assure you, ’Lord’ that all I want is for you to have a brief conversation with the business end of a gun." Gods bright and black, he had not anticipated how personally fulfilling it would be to tell the Emperor, to his face, what he thought about him.

"Where are my manners?" The Emperor shook his head as if to clear it then motioned for the guards to enter the cell where he was being held. Landem couldn’t move his arms or legs at all and he’d kind of been looking forward to fighting back during his first beating. The guards smirked viciously at him as they raised their armored fists, but the Emperor simply cleared his throat and they froze and looked back at him.--

"That won’t be necessary," he paused, "Yet. Please, see to his bonds." Both guards slumped their shoulders slightly in disappointment. Each pulled out an Etched key and used it to disengage the locks binding his hands and feet, then left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Better?" asked the Emperor.

"Much. I’m still not going to answer your questions. I really don’t care if you’re playing good Emperor before you have someone come in and start with the torture. If you want anything from me I’m going to make you work for it."

"You misunderstand the purpose of my visit." Ghreman centered the box in front of him and opened the lid, then spun it around so that Landem could see the contents. Set in a soft packing material, as if they were on display at a museum, were his revolvers, Justice and Vengeance. The blood drained from Landem’s face, realizing that he’d already betrayed his sister, and he’d never had to utter a word.

Forgeminds, like Issa, were rare. Most never survived to adulthood, due to an innate lack of caution when it came to experimenting with the Blackforge’s power. Those who did survive their early curiosity tended to fall somewhere on the spectrum from slightly odd to full-on bonkers. Despite his low opinion of the man, Ghreman guessed that the Emperor was, like his sister, of the more stable variety. Or he could just be really good at hiding it. Stable Forgeminds were vanishingly rare, though. Talented, stable Forgeminds were worth twice their weight in silver. Literally.

“These are magnificently Crafted.” The Emperor pulled Justice out, holding it up to the light and admiring it. This armored hands didn’t fit the grip, and the metal fingers wouldn’t fit into the trigger assembly, but that didn’t appear to bother him. “Some of these Etchings are very complicated. Reduced weight, dampened recoil, enhanced perception for the wielder. Extremely impressive. I’d love to meet the Forgemind who made these.”

“No recoil at all.” Landem felt the need to defend his sisters work, even if it was damning proof that Landem knew a Forgemind of her talent. He was all too familiar what the Emperor would do if he could find Issa. Celis’ aunt had been a Forgemind, and the Empire had found out about her. They had taken her, and no one had ever heard from her again. One of Celis’ goals in coming to the Citadel had been to find some clue as to what had happened to her aunt, but they hadn’t managed to find anything out. Chances were she was alive somewhere in the Citadel, but Landem’s contact had refused to tell them that information. “And I’ll die before giving them up.”

“Oh, I rather doubt that.” The Emperor set Justice back in the steel box, then pulled out Vengeance, examining it as well. “If I wanted that information we have people who are very skilled at extracting it. They are, of course, very disappointed that I’m not allowing them to ply their trade today, but we can’t all get what we want. Still, these are most impressive. Still, some of the Etchings, though very well done, are simple. I’m guessing your friend was never formally trained.”

Landem remained silent and glared at the Emperor, who seemed to be ignoring him anyway.

“Pity. Someone with this much skill deserves a proper education in their craft.” Ghreman flicked his wrist, opening the cylinder. “They can even fire Crafted ammunition. That will be handy.” The Emperor reached into the case again and pulled out several bullets, loading each chamber in the revolver. He then pulled out Justice and repeated the procedure.

“You’re going to kill me yourself then? With my own guns?” Landem put as much derision as he could into his voice. Inside, though, he was mildly furious that he was about to be shot with his own weapons. He liked those guns, and the thought of being killed by them was galling. “Isn’t that just a little bit clichéd?”

Instead of shooting him, Ghreman slid the revolvers to him across the table and stood. Landem reached out cautiously and took them, feeling much better with them in his hands, though he was confused. As soon as he closed his hands around them, he felt his thinking and perceptions become subtlety enhanced. The lab around him snapped into sharper focus, his hunger and thirst became secondary sensations as his eyes took in every detail of the room and he began planning how he could use it to his advantage.

He could possibly escape through the door that he faced, though he didn’t know how to open it, nor did he know where it led. Further, he still had a gut level feeling that there was something behind it that he didn’t want to see. In the far corner of the room were a series of large objects, covered and obscured by large dark clothes. Looking at them more closely he experienced a similar feeling of revulsion but determined he could use them as cover if it came to a fight. He turned his attention to the Emperor who was watching him with interest.

“You didn’t automatically try and shoot me. I’m impressed.” Landem could hear the amusement in the Emperor’s voice and he scowled in response.

“I doubt that you’d actually give me a weapon that would present a danger to you. You may be a murdering tyrant, but I’m not going to underestimate your intelligence for even a second.” The slight shift in the Emperor’s posture revealed the man’s growing irritation with Landem, even if his face provided no clues. “Though, I have no idea if this is supposed to be some sort of ‘fair fight’. I doubt that a fight with you could be considered fair under any circumstances, so long as you have that armor.”

“You’re partially right.” The amusement was back in Ghreman’s voice. He stepped away from the table back toward the door that he entered through. There was a panel on the wall, with several Etched steel buttons set into it. “I did give you your weapons back to make this more of a fair fight.” The Emperor motioned toward the large door that gave Landem such an ominous feeling and pressed one of the buttons on the panel.

Trusting his instincts that nothing good could be behind that door, Landem back peddled quickly, swinging his revolvers around, ready to fire at whoever or whatever came out of the doorway. He coughed as the scent hit him; something moist and fowl that clung to the back of his throat. The room beyond was pitch dark, concealing its contents, but Landem sensed movement beyond.

The creature flung itself through the door, with no more sound than something smooth sliding across the stone floor. Landem’s mind recoiled from the site, and he felt momentarily dizzy, despite the effects of his revolvers. Still, he fired twice, aiming for center mass, and dove out of the way. He felt a tug at his leg, then a flash of pain as the thing passed by him. He tucked his shoulder and rolled, coming to his feet just out of the monster’s long reach. Or so he thought.

An appendage whipped out at him, long and boneless, a mouth with jagged teeth on the end biting. All along it was what he’d at first assumed to be thick hairs, but as he quickly retreated, he realized that they were solid, and appeared sharp as needles. Getting grappled by the things tentacles, Landem realized, would be a truly horrible way to die. He fired directly into the twisting appendages gnashing teeth and was rewarded with a cry that felt like his eardrums were being punctured.

The creature oriented itself on Landem, though it’s movement was alien. It stood on back-jointed legs, with long claws that dug furrows into the stone. A long, spined tail whipped behind it, striking sparks from where it hit the wall. Two of the whipping tentacles sprouted from either side of the torso, each one with those spines and a clicking, horrible maw at the end. He fired two more bullets into what he assumed was its head, though that was little more than a large lump at the top of the beast that served as home for a much larger mouth, with much larger teeth. That was open, with a long fibrous tongue that tasted the air in Landem’s direction. His bullets struck the back of its head and splattered the back wall with black fluid.

“I’m afraid that it doesn’t keep it’s brain there. It has a distributed nervous system. Body shots might destroy one of its main nerve clusters, though, briefly incapacitating some of its offensive capability.”  The Emperor sounded like a teacher lecturing a student, pointing out an interesting nugget of knowledge about a creature in the zoo.  He was right. Aside from a cry of pain, the monster didn’t seem affected by any of Landem’s shots. Although, the limb he’d shot in the mouth seemed to be twitching sporadically more than aiming in his direction, looking for a way to grapple him.

Landem opened up the space between them, saving his ammo. Ghreman had loaded his weapons but each gun only had six bullets, and he’d already used several, to very little effect. He was grateful that the lab area was so spacious, giving him some room to maneuver. The beast charged it’s good appendages flailing and snapping. Ghreman was momentarily disturbed to see what looked like a large eye in the back of one of the appendage-mouths. Taking advantage of his enhanced aim, he shot the appendage in the mouth. The bullet tore straight through and ricocheted off the steel wall. Something else Landem would have to look out for.

The creature screamed in pain and made a desperate attempt to grab him again. Landem dodged, deciding the Emperor’s advice was as good as he was going to get. He fired as he ran, trying to guess where a nerve cluster might be located. Several of his shots bounced off of what he’d taken for blotches on the things sickly gray hide, but were, in fact, some kind of armored plating. His other shots ripped right through the abomination’s body, also bouncing off the walls. He heard a “tink” behind him as one of the bullets hit whatever was hidden by the massive sheets. It sounded like glass. Landem hoped that the container wasn’t full of something that would explode.

Unfortunately, Landem’s bullets hadn’t seemed to bother the creature over much. From the sound of its screams, he’d hurt it, but other than slowing it he didn’t think he’d caused any actual damage. Nothing that would matter anyway. The holes in its hide sealed quickly, keeping its blood loss to a minimum. Assuming that black sludge was blood. It had an ammonia stink to it, and Landem was careful to avoid it since he assumed no good would come from getting any on his skin.

“Here, try this.” The Emperor tossed him a rifle, Landem would worry about where that had come from later. He caught it in mid-air, dropping Vengeance. He took aim, noticing just how disturbingly close the abomination had drawn to him in the fraction of a second it had taken him to catch and aim the rifle. He pulled the trigger, letting the kick of the gun aid in his quick back peddling. He worked the action, putting another bullet in the chamber, and fired again, repeating the process until the rifle’s clip was out of bullets.

Curiously, none of these blew outward through the creature’s back. They also pierced the armored patches like they’d been wet paper. The wounds caused by the rifle rounds didn’t seal, and the thing staggered. Instead of continuing to chase Landem, it’s legs shook, then gave way, spilling the monstrosity onto the floor. The appendages still moved weakly, straining for him and biting futilely at the air while the legs scrabbled weakly for purchase.

Landem stood panting for a couple moments. He was aware that his eyes were a little wide and panicked as he stared at the horrific thing dying on the floor just a few feet from him. Now that it was beginning to still, black, syrupy blood draining from its wounds, he could see it more clearly. That didn’t seem to help him make sense of the complete wrongness of the thing that had just tried to kill him. He realized that it wasn’t though it was still twitching, drawing out the process of its death, it wasn’t breathing. Nor could he remember it doing so. That single detail seemed the most disturbing, the most alien.

“I imagine that you have many questions on your mind right now.” The Emperor walked casually over to the creature’s, now still, corpse, grabbed a fistful of spongy flesh and tossed it back into the room it had come from. “Chief among them being: ‘What in the rusting hell was that thing?’” He returned to the panel by the door, and pressed a button on it that sealed the monster’s room once again, then pressed a second button. The sound of a roaring wind came from the other room, muffled by the steel door and the lab grew uncomfortably warm. “Sorry, for the discomfort,” said Ghreman, indicating the door that had started glowing cherry red around the edges, “But it’s much safer for everyone if the specimens are immediately disposed of. The corpses produce fumes that are both toxic and the smell gets just everywhere. It’s like burning popcorn; takes days and days to get out of the hallways.”

Landem blinked twice, his brain finally working through exactly what had happened. The Emperor crossed back to the center of the room and picked up the chairs that had, at some point during the battle, been knocked over. He sat down in his chair, apparently completely indifferent to the fact that he’d just tried to feed Landem to a waking nightmare, and motioned for Landem to have a seat as well.

Landem swung the rifle over his shoulder by the strap, picked up Vengeance, and staggered over to the chair, eyes still a little glassy and breathing heavily. He set his revolvers down in front of him, then he set the rifle in the middle of the table, within easy reach of either of them. The adrenaline rush that had kept him alive moments ago was fading, and he became aware of the wound on his leg as it began to burn. He didn’t want to look at it, not wanting to show weakness in front of his enemy...the Emperor of Kem… Anger brought him fully back to himself.

Sitting in front of him was the man he wanted to kill, more than anything else in the world. Maybe, just maybe, before the day was done he’d get his chance.