“Golems have a long and storied history with the magical community. They take many forms. The simplest serve as messengers, the most complex puppets that appear to have a will of their own. Though the craft of engineering golems has suffered as the popularity of robots has grown, there are still fields dedicated to their study. Golems made through the blood arts have been banned for centuries.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

Two weeks passed with blistering speed. Ryan did not take weekends, and neither did Silver. Every morning, they met at seven sharp, spent three hours going through fitness and agility drills – which grew easier as her lungs recovered - and then took breakfast together in the cafeteria. Silver was vaguely surprised that he monitored her food intake as well. By the third day, Ryan had apparently decided she knew nothing about nutrition, and began mutely pointing to the dishes he wanted her to take.

After breakfast, Bek met her most days in the library, where the next two hours of her life were devoted to the study not just of magic, as she had expected, but of protocols, survival strategies, and the various histories and rankings of the MASO. Apparently, the MASO did not believe she needed to return to her final month in high school. Her time would be better spent learning her new career, though Bek told her she was more than welcome to walk at her graduation ceremony. Once he even asked her carefully about funeral arrangements, but did not bring it up again when she told him she was not ready to talk about it.

They left her an hour break then, which she mostly spent reading the dozens of books Bek handed to her on a daily basis, or walking through the icy courtyard between the various MASO buildings. It was gorgeous outside, if not warm, and Silver felt more at peace with the trees and the grasses around her than the walls of the library. Something about the MASO itself grated on her. It was possible, from what she learned in those two weeks, that it was the magic of the building itself, thrumming across her skin day in and day out.

The rest of her evening was taken up by more practical magic training, a thing she proved bafflingly terrible at in every respect. Even Ryan seemed surprised by her slow progress, though she sensed that he would never say it in quite that way. He suggested changing up their drills multiple times, but with little effect. It was simply hard for her to call on her magic. When she did, she had less control, Bek pointed out, than a child.

“Controlling your magic is like breathing,” Ryan repeated multiple times, “if you think too hard about it, it gets harder, not easier.” To her, it felt about as easy as breathing under water.

Long days left her with little time or energy to do more than sleep in the evenings, for which Silver was thankful. Vivid dreams filled her sleeping hours, frequented by the wolf and the Zara. As the days wore on, she often found herself awake in the middle of the night, staring out her bedroom window into the pitch darkness of the trees. There was no sign of another human habitation for miles and miles. Just the night, stretching on into forever.

It was in just such a moment, as she sat awake watching the moon trace its slow path across the sky, that someone knocked on her door. Surprised, she looked towards it, waiting. Sure enough, the knock came again. Silver swung it open to find Bek, in uniform. He stared her up and down, possibly surprised that she was also not dressed for bed.

“Put on your uniform,” he said, however, not commenting on anything else. Deciding it was better, for once, not to ask any questions, she did, and rejoined him in the hall.

“Are you often up at night?” he asked as they headed to the elevator. Silver stared up into his face, wondering if he asked out of concern or because he could make use of the time if she was. Her gut said it was concern.

“Often, yeah. Not always.”

He nodded, but made no response. As they disembarked onto the ground floor and struck a path for the front door of the MASO, Silver wondered if his silence was more conspiratorial than thoughtful. They left the warmth of the MASO behind them then, plunging instead into a night with a bit of the dewy warmth of spring, but a bitter bite. Silver tried to draw on her magic to warm herself, as they had taught her to do, but in the end just hoped they would not be outdoors too long.

That, she soon learned, was a vain hope. Bek trudged far beyond the confines of the MASO, and she trailed after him, confused and shivering.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, as they slid through the thick mud between the trees of the forest. They had neatly avoided the path towards the parking lot.

“It isn’t too far,” Bek informed her, though when he saw her shivering, he stopped to touch her shoulder. Warmth flooded through her skin.

“You really are terrible at magic,” he observed. She glared at him, and he laughed softly.

“It’s just the truth. Anyway, all of this, Silver, you can view as a part of your training. I’m taking you to the site of one of the MASO’s current projects, an archaeological site of a kind. It’s a good opportunity for you to get an idea for the scope of the agency’s work.”

Silver stumbled over a tree root as she nodded, and had just managed to catch her balance when they emerged into a small clearing. From there, the scene was so bizarre she could do little more than stare. There were several MASO personnel, apparently situated around a tremendous hole in the forest floor. Most of them looked outward rather than in, their alert posture and suspicious stares suggesting they were more sentinel than researcher. If they were cold, not one of them shivered. In the dark, they looked no different from the trees she and Bek had traipsed through to reach the site.

Floodlights were trained down into the hole they stood around, illuminating the damp, dark stone of some sort of cave or chasm. Moss clung to its walls, glittering with the reflection of tiny droplets of water trapped against its surface. Clearly, the personnel had brought with them some sort of heavy machinery, a crane or winch-like structure roughly the height of a man, but with no apparent apparatus attached to it. It was bored into the earth at the edge of the hole, iron supports out of place against the softer backdrop of grass and leaflitter.

“This way,” Bek urged her, not pausing for her to stare. Silver followed him more out of instinct than anything else, and hesitated only when he stepped out into the dark space over the hole. It took her half a second to see the black, cylindrical platform that hovered just above the gap. It was as thin as glass, but large enough for four people to stand shoulder to shoulder.

He waved her on impatiently.

Swallowing, Silver followed. The platform did not so much as bob beneath her weight, at least until it began its descent into the earth. Then she braced herself, expecting that at any moment they would plummet downwards.

They did not.

The black shadows simply rose up around them, the sky slowly shrinking to a jagged circle of light far overhead. Eventually, the platform came to a slow halt, and Bek stepped off. Again, Silver followed him reluctantly; there was no way back the way they had come other than the platform. Thankfully, someone had placed a few glowing orbs of blue light nearby, and these cast a faint glow across the solid rock of the cave, illuminating a tunnel just tall enough for a man to traverse. Brushing the tips of her fingers along the stone walls at the mouth of the tunnel, she found that they were slick with water and impossibly smooth. What creatures, she wondered, must have fallen to their deaths in this very space?

“Coming?” Bek’s voice echoed back to her down the tunnel. Indeed, she was. It must have been obvious from the tap of her footsteps on the slick stone.

It was a long while that they headed down deeper into the earth before the tunnel widened and the air grew fresher. Silver peered into the darkness, finally becoming aware of a faint white light ahead of them, just around a bend in the tunnel. Gradually she could make out muffled conversation up ahead, and the smell of something unexpected. Charcoal?

Silver shrank back at first when they finally came to a larger cavern, surprised by the sudden brightness and the multitude of people moving through the underground space. It was nothing like what she had expected. Beneath the earth, there was a great pocket of space half a football field in diameter, the domed ceiling and walls carved with sharp, twisting grooves that formed a deep labyrinth in the rock. Through this labyrinth flowed water - water that sang like a babbling brook throughout the cavern. Heedless of gravity, that water carved its path along the ceiling, down the curving walls, and across the floor toward what appeared to be a fountain at the center of the room.

Intrigued, she crept forward a bit, eyeing the machines and boxes that had clearly been added to the space. They hummed faintly when she passed them, an electric buzz that reminded her of the old computers her dad used to fix on weekends. There was no indication on any of them as to what they might be. Someone had brought folding chairs as well, and a few personnel sat in them, taking notes in notebooks as thick as her arms. Bek had told her magic disrupted most machines, and laptops were among the most expensive devices to shield against magic. There was no other reason she could think of that an organization like the MASO would still use paper notes.

More floodlights lit up the edges of the cavern. Those caught her eye, of course, because they were pointed up into the stone fangs of statues that she knew, without a doubt, were intended to be dragons. Coupled with the glassy floor of the cavern, the light cast macabre shadows against the cavern walls and floor.

Bek had made his way to one of the statues to discuss something with a woman who stood in front of it, taking swabs from the stone. Silver followed him, ogling the detail carved into the statue. It was so perfect the beast might as well have been living stone. It emitted a faint scent of charcoal, a subtle warmth. There were even tiny scars and imperfections in the stone hide of the dragon, leavings of its imagined life. Or so she thought, at first. Now that she was within range of Bek’s conversation, she realized otherwise.

“So they’re alive,” Bek stated, narrowing his bronze eyes at the splayed nostrils of the stone dragon.

“Yes,” the woman replied, removing something that looked like a blood pressure cuff from her bag and wrapping it around the statue’s arm, “Guardian Golems. We haven’t determined what their trigger is yet.”

“Silver,” Bek noticed her stare, “This is Cynthia. Cynthia, this is the trainee Ryan mentioned.”

“Hmmm, so you’re Silver.” Cynthia looked her up and down appraisingly. Silver did the same. It was clear that the woman before her was all business, though her thick Indian accent made it less clear whether she meant to be or not. There was something open about her expression that made Silver think it might be the accent. The angled A-cut of her dark hair and the crisp lines of her uniform perfectly suited her, nonetheless. “We will have fun together, I think. Ryan says good things. But for tonight, this thing,” Cynthia pointed at the fountain behind them, “is the reason you are here. The director asked that we translate the words at the base of the fountain, Bek. I requested a second opinion. Our treasure is in the fountain, but that light protects it. We cannot get close. I suspect it is a trigger for these golems.”

Bek was already staring thoughtfully in the direction of the fountain.

“Thank you, Cynthia. I’ll go take a look. Silver, stick close.”

Silver did as requested. She had already made up her mind not to touch anything that might potentially trigger what could be an ancient magical booby trap. As they skirted the MASO’s machinery, she remained close behind him, and squatted nearly a foot away when he knelt near the base of the fountain to read several tiny lines of script in a language she did not recognize. It was all sharp angles and deep hashes, nothing like any language she had ever seen. The way his eyes moved, though, it clearly meant something to Bek.

When it became clear that he would take more than a few moments at his task, she leaned back on her heels, staring upward. Where the two of them sat, they were just outside the circle of light cast by the fountain. It was bewitching in a way; a warm, silvery glow in a place otherwise devoid of sound, devoid of light, devoid of anything but the pressing weight of the earth. It shimmered against the water that cascaded down from the head of a stone serpent. The serpent’s mouth was agape so the liquid spilled around its marble teeth and eyes, both a scarlet tinged green, possibly from years of flowing water. It resembled the stone dragons situated around the cavern, she realized. Like them, too, the stone was clearly solid, but had been shaped so organically it might as well have not been carved at all. She could easily imagine the stone creature uncoiling its sinewy neck and snapping the stone bowl clutched in its teeth. It would not be so far-fetched for it to step from its inscribed platform and snap her head off, too.

“Silver.”

She blinked at the warning tone in Bek’s voice, finally realizing she was standing with her hand beneath the luminous curtain of water that fell from the serpent’s jaws. It parted like quicksilver around her fingers, splashing onto the stone at her feet. The fountain, she realized, did not cast the light. It was the water itself. And she stood within the circle, if just by her boot-tips.

Although her first impulse should have been to yank her hand back, she managed to quell it long enough to look down at him. He must have seen the bewilderment and uncertainty in her expression. A part of her wanted to be terrified. A part of her, basking in the warmth of the light cast by the water in the fountain, had no idea what fear even was. Until, of course, she became aware that the smell of charcoal in the underground chamber had intensified. Her eyes followed Bek’s towards the edges of the space, searching out the stone golems. There was no one near those golems now - everyone had moved away, pointing, issuing hushed commands, drawing weapons.

That was because one of the golems had moved to watch her. She could feel its eyes like hot coals, and in fact, they looked like hot coals, burning eerily in the MASO’s floodlights. With a low, ominous rumble, the golem moved, leaning forward on all fours and crushing one of the smaller machines someone had left nearby. Sparks rippled across its stony flesh, but it seemed not to notice.

Silver felt herself swallow hard. Time in the cavern seemed to stand still. Everyone had stopped moving. The only sound in the space was the trickle of water, drowning out everything else. As seconds ticked by, she realized she was wrong; she could also hear the sound of bone on stone, and the click of rocky scales as more of the golems came to life.

“Silver, listen carefully to me,” Bek said, not moving. He never took his eyes from the golem that watched her. “The light cast by the water in the fountain is some sort of defense – you’re the first person who hasn’t been blown back by it. So are the golems. I don’t know what other defenses we might not have seen yet. You understand that you are in a dangerous position.”

She gulped again, nodded slightly.

“Good. Tell me, are you afraid right now?”

“I should be.”

“But are you?”

She hesitated, saw him working his jaw back and forth until finally he looked away from the golem. None of the stone dragons seemed to have come closer yet. It was possible they were waiting for her to make some move – Bek might have come to the same conclusion.

“No,” she half-whispered. He paused to meet her gaze, and then looked back to the golems.

“Then, without moving, look forward. What do you see in the fountain?”

Silver did as he instructed, trying to incline her head so that she could see clearly without moving any closer to the fountain. In the highest bowl rested two orbs the size of her two clasped fists, as perfectly round and opalescent as pearls.

“Pearls,” she said aloud, unsure what else to say.

“They’re not pearls, Silver. They’re dragon eggs.”

She turned to look at him sharply, and her fingers left the warm water. Immediately, she heard the guttural hiss of the stone golem, and glanced up just in time to see it charging at the fountain.

“Take them now!” Bek shouted at her. “Take them, Silver!”

Fear trickled through her body like a nasty poisonous liquid. Silver felt it root her in place as her breath caught. The thing bearing down on her with the weight of a freight train would kill her with one swipe of its claws. Just one. She was certain of that.

Yet it never reached her. Around the fountain, the chamber had erupted into chaos. Human shouts joined the cacophony of the stone golems’ movement. A mighty crash nearly deafened her. The stone golem charging towards them came up against something hard, a solid and utterly invisible wall, and came to a grating halt. Bek moved between them. Then the very ground shook, throwing her forward against the fountain, as the air around her grew suddenly oppressive. That sensation she knew, because she felt it every day in the MASO. It was magic. Filling the cavern, building on the chaos and the din of battle.

Roused to action, she scrabbled up the fountain to regain her feet. It was somehow perfectly smooth and warm to the touch, damp with condensation even where the water never touched. But it did not wake to attack her when she reached for the eggs, nor when she dragged them both from its stone bowl and stumbled away with one in each hand, suddenly unsure what more to do.

Someone grabbed her by the arm seconds before she was trampled by one of the stone golems. She realized it was Cynthia right as the woman shoved her back to safety, throwing a blinding flash of blue light against the golem. It roared, rearing back to whip its tail around and nearly behead them both. Silver turned and half-ran, half-tripped several feet in the other direction, casting around for some way out of their underground death trap. She could hear Cynthia calling out to her, trying to get her to come back. She could hear a lot of people, in fact, yelling not only at her but at each other. None of what they said made any sense to her.

Only heat and confusion brought her pause. Dry heat, pressing down on her from above. She looked up into the molten gaze of one of the golems, its claws dug deep into the rocky ceiling of the cavern. For a terrifying instant, Silver was sure it was going to land full force on top of her.

Six tons of hard rock, scathing talons, and crushing teeth.

Fire spat from the cracks in its stony hide, magma oozing from its scales to fall, sizzling, to the slick rock below. She could smell its hot breath against her face, sharp with the tang of molten rock and metal, and laced with the bitter scent of sulfur. Silver knew, as her eyes met with that of the golem, that she stared into the face of her own doom.

And there was that rage again. Fear and helplessness and an unassailable rage that this creature would dare kill her when she had yet to hunt down the demon that had failed to do so. They stared at one another, each in a moment of hesitation that defined the totality of their existence.

Then she saw the life go out of the golem’s eyes.

Why, she did not know. Her legs failed her, and she sat on the hard stone, bewildered and breathing heavily, sweat dripping into her eyes. Around her, the battle had stopped. The other golems, too, had ceased to move. Still clutched in her hands were the dragon eggs. Almost without thinking, she cradled them against herself, amazed that they had not been broken in the chaos.

When someone came to crouch beside her, she knew instantly who it was. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she could feel him take a deep breath, as if he had also been breathing heavily only a moment before.

“Good work, Silver.” She looked up at Bek, afraid for an instant that she would cry. When she had collected herself, she extended one of the eggs towards him. Very carefully, he took it from her, balancing it in one hand. Then he glanced up at the frozen stone dragon above them.

“What did you do to stop them?” he asked her. She stared at him as if he were the craziest person alive.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said.

He did not press her. Just nodded, then helped her to her feet.

There was little more to be said between them. Bek did not try to take the remaining egg from her when he asked her to wait a moment and went to say a brief word to Cynthia. Silver had the sense, as the woman folded her arms and nodded curtly at Bek, that she was in charge of the site. Silver also had the sense, when Cynthia glanced in her direction and then turned on her heel to stride in the direction of a huddle of personnel helping someone up off the ground, that she had made herself known in the least pleasant of ways to the people who were supposed to be her colleagues. If she was correct, Bek remained silent on that matter as well.

They took to the narrow tunnel up through the earth, boarding the platform without so much as a word. Once they were earth-level again, Bek halted her with a glance. There were five men and women standing beside the winch-like structure at the edge of the hole who had not been there before. Like the two of them, these were MASO personnel, their prim uniforms perfect midnight black, buttons shining in the floodlights. It was not so long ago that the ranking system had been explained to her, so Silver remembered at least enough to recognize that the man in front was the director of their agency, mastermind behind the extensive research and development department and overseer of their security force. There were other things he was in charge of as well, but they had all blurred together in her head. If she could have, she would have avoided meeting him for as long as she could.

“Trent,” the director stepped forward, steely eyes on Bek first, and then sliding to her. “And Ms. Alurian. We have not yet had the pleasure of a face-to-face encounter.” She stared at him, surprised that he knew her name, or was even aware of her existence. A slow, mirthless smile crept across his expression. If it was meant to be welcoming, it was a bit off the mark, and Silver had the feeling it was, indeed, meant to be welcoming. “I was informed the investigative team was successful.”

“Yes, sir,” Bek finally spoke.

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Thirteen hours ago you told me yourself that the investigation was at a standstill. It’s rare for you to be wrong.”

Bek said nothing in response to this, and the director turned his eyes to the eggs that each of them carried. “Adix, please.”

One of the men behind him stepped forward with an open box, generously padded, that could have no other purpose than to carry their treasure. Bek deposited the egg he held without prompting. Silver stood a moment, all of their eyes on her. Against her palm, the egg pulsed, warm and very much alive.

“Now, Alurian,” the director commanded.

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked. If she had thought everyone’s eyes were on her before, now she knew for a fact that they were. Adix shook his head slightly at her, but the director stepped around him to regard her calmly. For a moment, they stared at one another, and then he turned to Bek.

“Brief her this evening, Trent. I expect the both of you in my office at eight. Inform agent Jhadav that I expect the site report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, Ms. Alurian,” the director gestured at the box again, “let’s get these back to the agency safely. You’ll hear all about them soon enough.”

When Adix thrust the box closer to her, Silver set the egg carefully inside. He snapped it shut, pulling the buckles closed. Then all five of them turned to leave. The director did not spare either her or Bek another glance.

****