Elves Invasion

24

I’m all right, he said. He stayed in a crouch for moment, checking his surroundings before straightening up. Two of you will have to make the jump carrying Juliet and Ava, but everyone else should be able to make it.

Ava was still shaking when she felt Tristan pick her up in his arms and jump. She clutched at his neck and held her breath as she dropped down into the smothering belly of the earth. Even as she fell, Ava could feel the deadening hum of quartz in the soil around her. It was like entering a tomb.

Her whole body rattled with the impact of their landing. Tristan did his best to shield Ava from it, but even fora witch-fueled mechanic it had been a long drop. Ava felt Windyard’s hands catching her and running over her lightly to scan for any damage.

I’m not injured, she told him privately in mindspeak. He removed his hands, but ignored the group order and stayed nearby as the coven began to move through the gloom.

They fanned out and let their magelight increase by degrees, but the space seemed to go on forever.

“It’s three, maybe four times the size of the Salem Stacks,” Juliet said. The sound of her voice made Ava jump, but then she realized there was no reason to continue in mindspeak. There were no Workers down here. Nothing living at all, except her coven.

“But the same layout,” Tristan added. “Look. Here are the rooms for the skin looms.”

They passed by a series of tall, skinny passageways. Breakfast pulled one of the looms out of the wall. It was three times his height, but it rolled out easily enough on casters that were set into tracks on the floor.

“Empty,” Breakfast said. “Guess they don’t have much use for wearhyde here.”

“Why would they?” Una said. “They can get fine Italian leather if they want. They can afford it, too.”

Ava nodded and started to move toward the hulking shapes occupying the main cavern. As she approached the first of many rows of womb combs, she could tell it was old. She put her hand on one of the stainless steel sides and imagined it full of ice lattices, each little cell housing a Woven embryo.

So many Woven, Ava thought. She brightened her magelight as much as she could without blinding herself, but she couldn’t find an end to the procession.

“I’ve never seen so many,” Windyard said, echoing Ava’s thought. “Not even in New York.”

“Is the New York Stack large?” Una asked.

“The largest of the Thirteen Cities,” he answered. “Growing tame Woven is their main industry. Most of the city is underground on what you know of as Long Island. But this is even bigger.”

“We should try to find the back wall. That’s where those stairs are on Ivan’s map,” Caleb said.

They started to work their way down the rows of womb combs, every step bringing them deeper into the disorienting vastness of the space. Support pillars sprouted out of the floor and started to divide up the main area into smaller sections, confounding their sense of direction. Soon it was difficult to tell which of the sections led left, right, or straight on to the back.

“We’ll split into our groups again,” Caleb said. “Everyone stay in contact through Ava.”

Her coven reached for her mind. Ava built a web of rapport that spun out as her coven dispersed in search of the back wall. The rows skewed on a diagonal as the size and shape of the womb combs changed.

Different Woven, Windyard thought. He was whispering to himself in his head, but Ava was in such close contact with him, and he was keeping so close to her physically, that she overheard.

Greater drakes, most likely, based on the size, he continued. Ava got an image of a dragon creature with iridescent skin, giant talons, and stunning wings. It was so large several people could easily ride it.

By the tanks for the greater drakes is where they made the mascots. The image that flitted through his mind looked like an enormous dragonfly-serpent hybrid, clinging to the mast of a tall ship. It seemed to scan the sky, looking for danger, and its double-decker wings filled the sails with wind while it wrapped its long, scaly tail protectively around the rigging of the ship. Ava assumed that had to be a mascot.

Back there, the medium-size womb combs must have been where they made the guardians and other mammalian mixes. Ava got a glimpse of one of the guardians that they chained to the bottom of the greentowers.

So what are these smaller vats for? They aren’t really womb combs. There are more of these than any other, but I can’t think what would grow in them. Fast germinating Woven—the kind that hatches from an egg, mostly likely. Windyard pictured something that looked like wild Woven to Ava. They were mostly insect, but also part reptile or mammal, and none of them were the same. Who would want to grow so many, and why?

The vats stood like sentinels, lined up in perfect formation in the long-forgotten dark.

“It’s an army,” Ava whispered. A chill ran down her spine as she said it, and she knew she was right.

Windyard turned to her, discarding the notion out of hand. “No, this type of Woven serves no purpose. They’re made from the leftover genetic material of the useful Woven, like the guardians, drakes, mascots, and cleaners—cleaners are mostly insectoid,” he explained, seeing her confused look. “After you make a few batches of useful Woven you just throw whatever remains into one of these vats and see if anything good comes out of the mix. You have to destroy ninety-nine out of a hundred because all that most of them can do is eat and fight and . . .” He trailed off, a stricken look on his face.

“Pretty accurate description of the wild Woven around the Thirteen Cities, isn’t it?” Ava said.

“No, because wild Woven reproduce like crazy.” Windyard shook his head, unable to accept what was staring him in the face. “We make sure they’re sterile—all of the Woven that we make in the womb combs are sterile. They can’t reproduce.”