The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)

THE CAVERNOUS HALL IN THE heart of the dome is exactly as I remember it.

Torches flare to life one by one, illuminating rows of columns as the stone platform bears me to the ground. At the far end, hundreds of feet away, warm light reflects off those three diverging lines of bronze set into the wall. The glittering pyramid symbol they form towers over the vast, empty space between.

I step off the platform as soon as it touches the floor, no time for hesitancy. Stride to the centre of the room.

“I want to take the test!” I yell it to the walls. My words are engulfed by the enormity of the space.

Waiting for it though I am, I flinch at the voice behind me.

“I was known as Elia Veranius. I was a traitor to the commandment of isolation. I attempted to gain synchronism and remove the seal to Obiteum during the eleventh era after the Rending. I have thus been lawfully condemned to servitude, guiding those who come after.” The hollow-eyed woman with the snarled black hair and torn clothes is standing behind me. As with last time, I’m unsure how she got there.

“Elia. Good. Good.” I cross my arms, mostly to hide my discomfort. “Do you remember me?” I ask the question expecting no answer, and receive none. That’s alright. I don’t have time to waste anyway. “I would like to take the test.”

Expression never changing, she brings her hands from behind her back. Unstraps the control bracer from her left arm and offers it to me.

I stare at it for a grim few seconds, then take it.

There’s that same sickly, slithering sensation as I put it on; the hall between us and the far symbol explodes into activity, black walls grinding upward into place. I watch bleakly, attention fixed on the archway at the entrance. I’ve practiced ceaselessly for this. Day after day after day. But I still don’t feel ready. Don’t know enough about the rules here, or the Remnants, or what lies beyond.

“Elia. Is there any way to see the Labyrinth—the test—from higher up?”

There’s no answer.

I’m unsurprised, but it was worth a try. “What about a way to practice the test? Is there something like that?”

“An overview can be activated.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting a response. “Let’s… do that?”

Elia moves to one of the columns and presses her hand against it.

The floor grinds and shifts again, this time almost at my feet. I leap back in alarm, but it stops as abruptly as it started, a mass of perpendicular lines about ten feet long and five wide jutting an inch from the ground.

I peer down. It’s easy to recognise the patterns.

“This is the maze?” No response from Elia. I bring the control bracer up and twist a stone. There’s a faint grinding from the Labyrinth as a panel moves within.

And a corresponding movement in the version in front of me. Stone swinging across, exactly where I would expect it.

I frown down at the miniature version of the Labyrinth. “This is good,” I say slowly, “but I want to see how the Remnants move, not just the walls. Is there any way to track them?”

“Motion will be displayed when present.”

“Ah.” I uneasily examine the small version of the Labyrinth, then the towering black one ahead.

Then Elia.

“Elia,” I say quietly. “Are you alive?”

No response.

“I… I don’t want to condemn you to die. But…” I take a deep breath. “I’m not convinced you are alive. Not really. And if I’m wrong and you’re stuck in this… state, surely that’s just as bad.” I’m saying the words mostly to myself, as reassurance. I steel myself. “So if you are not alive, Elia, I would like you to demonstrate the test.”

Elia turns and heads for the entrance.

I shiver. Assuming her compliance is an indication that she’s actually dead, it means I’m not responsible for Artemius’s demise. It means I have a chance to assess how these Remnants hunt before I go in there.

On the other hand, her being dead raises a lot more questions.

Elia reaches the archway; as she passes beneath it the air around her ripples, the passageways beyond seeming to waver before solidifying again. Immediately there’s a change on the ground in front of me. A bright, sickly green dot of light at the representation of the maze’s entrance. It doesn’t hover above the stone, though. It’s as if the illumination is etched into it. Exactly like the scrawled writing and diagrams in the ruins near the Academy.

A heartbeat passes and then there are three more dots of green light. All at the far end of the Labyrinth. Unlike the one denoting Elia, these stutter and wane, pulse uneasily.

They burst into motion.

Elia’s pace hasn’t changed; the black Labyrinth walls have hidden her from view now, only the near green light allowing me to track her progress. It’s glacial compared to what I assume is the Remnants. Their dots in the miniature maze flicker through passageways and around corners with terrifying speed as they converge on their prey. As each one moves, it leaves an etching of pulsing green in its wake, showing its route thus far.

“Vek.” I bring the bracer up, start twisting and flicking stones to block the Remnants’ way. The lights don’t hesitate when I do, altering course immediately and smoothly. Heading straight for the next most efficient route to their target.

I swallow. Work the control bracer furiously. I delay them for a minute. Two. Elia keeps steadily, deliberately forward. Never increasing her pace.

She’s not even a quarter of the way through before one of the fast-moving lights smashes into hers. There’s a fuzzing, a sputter.

The other two Remnants stop. When the one that reached Elia begins moving again, her light is gone.

I stand there, cold, not knowing how to feel. Remembering what happened to Artemius, knowing I just consigned Elia to the same fate. Telling myself that she was already dead. She was already dead, and this is necessary.

My gaze drifts to the glowing green lines that traced the Remnants’ paths. I focus. Examine them. Replay my choices. After a minute, the representations of the Remnants begin to fade. Soon they’ve disappeared completely, along with the routes they took.

“I was known as Dorail Numinus. I was a traitor to the commandment of isolation. I attempted to remove the seal to Obiteum during the second era after the Rending. I have thus been lawfully condemned to servitude, guiding those who come after.”

I don’t turn at the unfamiliar woman’s voice. Continue to fix on the miniature maze. On the point at which Elia and the Remnant met.

“If you are not alive, Dorail, I would like you to demonstrate the test,” I say hollowly.

I GET THROUGH FOUR MORE demonstrations before I can take it no longer.

In each one, I learn something new about the Remnants. The monstrosities start from the same position every time, at the far end of the Labyrinth, close to the exit—that’s good. When I use the bracer to switch paths, delay them, they immediately choose the next most efficient route. That’s good, too, I decide after a while. Perfect predictability makes this a puzzle of logic and timing, not one of bluffing and out-thinking an unknown opponent. The Remnants appear to be relatively mindless, entirely aware of where their prey is and the state of the Labyrinth, but not inclined to block off ways forward or simply wait by the far door.

Most importantly, though, they never vary.

During the third test, I see a potential way through. Assuming they always take the shortest paths to their target, and move at the same speeds, I can predict where each of them will go. And on the fourth run, I prove to myself that if I can time certain alterations to the maze precisely, I should be able to make it to the other side.

Maybe. Maybe.

I should keep experimenting. Keep practicing. But time isn’t on my side, and when a young girl—she can’t be more than twelve, vaguely reminiscent of Cari—appears behind me, long brown hair almost concealing her eerie eyeless gaze, I know I’m done.

“Alright.” I face her squarely. Blood pounding in my ears. She’s told me her name, but I’ve already learned to stop listening. “I’m ready. I want to take the test.”

“Are you certain? Once through the entrance, retreat is impossible.”

“Of course it is.” I gesture gloomily. “I’m certain.”

“Then proceed.”

My breath’s short, hands shaking as I clench them by my sides. I walk toward the black archway, calculating and recalculating. The Remnants move at a constant speed; I’m going to have to count out the seconds as I run, switch passageways at just the right time to redirect them. One mistake, and it will be over.

Before I can change my mind, I step into the Labyrinth.

There’s that strange warping in the air, a vibration that makes everything briefly shimmer, as if I’ve just walked through the surface of a massive bubble. The hair prickles on the back of my neck and I’m immediately reminded of the aura around Melior at the naumachia. No strange visions here, at least.

The walls tower around me. Black and smooth, ten feet taller than the ones at the Academy. Their height makes everything feel closer, suffocating.

I shake off the chill that shudders through my body, start the count, and run.

One. Two. Three.

As scared as I am, as strange as my surroundings are, my hours upon hours of practice make movement something I barely have to think about. I turn right after five seconds. Sprint forward for another ten. Make my first adjustment on the bracer, one that should redirect the Remnant on the right into a circuitous reversal. Three quick turns, open the way ahead. That will cause the left-most Remnant to change course, take the easier path toward me. I shut it again after another five seconds. Creating just enough of a delay for me to slip past before altering its path once again.

I fall into an almost meditative state for the first five minutes, every turn a familiar one, every adjustment of the bracer practiced, flawless. I don’t even see a Remnant, though I hear one a couple of times, scraping menacingly along the floor in some nearby hallway. But my confidence rises.

Then I turn the corner, and see Belli’s torn body.

She’s pinned to the wall about five feet off the ground. Blood spatters the stone below her, pooling in a thick, dark crimson from where it’s flowed down her body and dribbled off her feet. Her face is untouched, though. That long, curly red hair framing a pale expression of pain and horror and disbelief. Half her torso is missing.

Shock. Confusion. Revulsion. Sadness. They all war for my attention, obliterating whatever focus I’d had. I stumble to a stop, half step toward her as if to see whether there’s anything I can do before realising just how foolish that thought is. How is she here? I flinch as she seems to flicker, translucent for a heartbeat. Blood still drips. This is recent. Maybe from not long before I arrived.

With a jolt I realise I’ve stopped. Am just staring. I’ve lost my count. Lost track of where the Remnants should be.

I gasp. Fear and shock threatening to overcome me as I register I’m about to end up the same way. That even Belli, the best of us at the Labyrinth, didn’t make it through.

Somehow, I force my legs to move. Will myself to sprint on.

I lost… five seconds, maybe, staring at Belli? Ten? That’s bad, and even worse that I’m not sure.

I pour desperate speed into my legs. Five seconds, I might be able to make the next junction. Ten and I’m dead.

I skid around the corner, and see the Remnant at the end of the long hallway. Rushing toward me. Maybe fifty feet away.

If the Remnants were intimidating from a distance, they’re terrifying up close. A mass of edged obsidian that hurtles forward like a twenty-foot-high wave, chattering hungrily against stone, eager and formless.

I sprint toward it.

It’s faster than me but not by much, and the passageway I need is closer to me. I barely stop to turn the corner, letting my right shoulder slam hard against the wall and allowing myself to bounce off as I desperately twist the corresponding stone on the bracer. There’s a faint grinding sound. I’ve been too hasty. Failed to close the door, sealed my fate.

A quick glance behind me shows me I’m wrong. Nothing but smooth stone, a newly formed dead end.

I don’t stop to celebrate.

I still have a path, but this isn’t the way I wanted to take. I try to refactor as I run, calculate the trajectories of the three different Remnants based on their speed, my current position, the current state of the Labyrinth. It’s something I’ve become well accustomed to doing during practice, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. It certainly doesn’t mean I’ll get it right.

I run for another two minutes, lungs starting to burn, sweat trickling into my eyes. I can hear the chill, rattling scrape of pursuit at almost every turn now. I adjust the Labyrinth once every thirty seconds. Still no mistakes. I’m focused again. Trying not to let my success distract me.

And then, finally, I round a corner and see the shadowed exit that has appeared beneath the massive bronze pyramid.

The archway is open. Unguarded. I was flagging, but the sight lends a burst to my legs. It feels like I’m barely touching the ground.

With thirty feet to go, I hear a Remnant behind me. I don’t turn. I’m almost to the arch when another Remnant appears. About ten feet past the exit. Barely farther from it than I am.

I am going to die.

I keep charging at the towering wall of glinting, cracked shadow, refusing to falter. Whirling black death flows toward me.

I scream as I fling myself through the exit, into the darkness beyond, arm in front of my face as I slide along the ground and wait for the biting obsidian to tear me apart.

Nothing happens.

I lie there for a terrified, frozen second. Two. Just trembling. Gradually, I force myself to twist around and look back.

The Remnants fill the archway like jagged shades, only three feet away. Gyrating shards of dark glass flail angrily at the very edge of the Labyrinth. There’s a screeching, scratching thunder as they rattle at the opening. I fumble urgently with the bracer. Unstrap it and toss it away, as if the act could somehow remove the memory of my last ten minutes.

The exit begins to slide into the ground, taking the dim light with it. Within moments, it’s gone, maze and Remnants alike hidden from view.

Then there’s silence.