A Nameless Dark

Chapter 22

The room was a slaughterhouse.

I stood with Samuel at the top of the circular row of stairs overlooking the seating area and Graver's body. Lin was with him still. She'd arranged his limbs and closed his eyes, then knelt beside him. The girl had not moved in long moments. I didn't know if she was praying or meditating or performing some other ritual, but whatever grieving process she was in the midst of, it seemed very private. I didn't have the heart to interrupt her.

Behind us on the ground, was the unconscious form of Thaddeus. We'd bound his limbs as tight as we could, using strips of cloth stolen from the no longer needed uniform of an unfortunate Steel Tower soldier. While Samuel and I dealt with Thaddeus, Lara had begun sifting through the butchered bodies, searching for wounded survivors. Her compassion for the fallen combatants put me to shame. I knew I should have felt something in response to the tragic circumstances that found me manhandling the dead, mutilated body of some poor soul in order to repurpose his uniform. I should have felt guilt, or horror, or even just sadness. But nothing came. Just a mild sense of surprise that we had survived.

A throbbing numbness clung to me as I stood in one place and surveyed the carnage around me. Blood and gore blended together with the shredded cloth of fallen Steel Tower soldiers to create a sickening red and black tapestry. A movement caught my eye from the far side of the room; Aaron trudged toward us through the ruin, grim and bloody, dragging a dark figure behind him. It took me half a second to recognize Aaron's prize. It was Wiley. My Uncle had a grip on Wiley's cloak, and pulled him unceremoniously through the wreckage of twisted bodies and severed appendages. He made his slow way around to Samuel and me, pitching Wiley's body next to Thaddeus with a single toss. I returned Aaron's slim smile as we clapped our arms around each other, and a small surge of relief ran through me. Uncle Aaron was back.

Aaron greeted Samuel as well, and the three of us returned to our quiet vigil, waiting patiently for Lin.

The room was disturbingly calm in the aftermath of the battle. The Servants of Dark who had not been cut down had fled, and now the remaining Steel Tower soldiers, which appeared to be less than half of their original number, were left to sort through the mayhem and try to identify their fallen brothers and sisters at arms.

"What a freaking mess," Samuel said, the corners of his mouth turning down as he shook his head.

Aaron grunted what may have been an agreement.

"It's going to take them a while to gather their dead and transport them back to our world," he said, taking in the scene around him with an expression of distain. "We won't be burying them in this place."

"What about them?" I asked, nodding my head to indicate the motionless figures behind us. "Is Wiley..."

"He's alive," Aaron said. "Or what passes for alive with that miserable bastard. The Steel Tower will take him back to the Glacial Hall. Try to get some information out of him."

"They won't get anything, will they." Samuel said.

"No," Aaron shook his head. "Probably not."

My Uncle had changed since we last saw him in Pittsburgh. The rough edges of his visage had sharpened, and the steel in his eyes and set of his jaw seemed stronger and more piercing. He was wounded in places, the result of his contest with Wiley and whatever else he'd been through in order to reach us, but his injuries seemed small and insignificant next to the rigid strength he possessed. He was like a battle-worn sword, once rusted and chipped from years of disuse, now oiled and sharpened, and polished to a deadly gleam.

"Glad to have you back." I set my hand on his shoulder, and he gripped mine in return.

"So am I," Samuel said. "I thought we were goners for a minute there."