12. Sloan
TWELVE
SLOAN
“Marcus, Jack?” It was Sloan knocking on their bedroom door. “Be ready to visit the armory in fifteen minutes. A servant will come and get you.”
“We’ll be ready, Captain,” Marcus’ voice penetrated the door. “See you soon.”
Sloan took off down the hall in the direction of the armory. The palace was a labyrinth of twisting halls and massive rooms. It had taken Sloan a solid month before she was confident in traversing the palace alone.
Morning light streamed though massive windows. Sloan’s black boots sank into the rich red carpet. Soldiers saluted her as she passed halls decorated with statues and paintings.
Today, she walked with purpose. It was important for her to set the tone as the leader, and in all honesty, she was excited to see what Edison Reeves had ready for them in the armory.
Eventually, Sloan arrived at the designated meeting point, the entrance to the armory marked by two gigantic black doors. She dusted off her black pants and straightened her black and grey uniform while she waited.
“You didn’t strike me as the kind to care what she looks like.” Aareth’s voice met her from down the hall. “But I guess as long as you’re not trying to kill me, that’s an improvement.”
“And you obviously don’t care what you look like.” Sloan looked Aareth up and down. “Did you sleep in your clothes?”
Before Aareth could answer, Marcus and Jack rounded the corner. The servants that guided the men to the armory bowed their way back down the hall.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” Aareth looked at Jack as he rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Why are you looking at me like that, kid? You’re kinda weirding me out.”
“Oh no.” Jack’s eyes darted to the door. “I mean, I—just that now that I know who you—ummm?—”
“Please, boys, can this wait?” Sloan banged on the massive double doors. “We have an armory to pillage and a mission to begin.”
The black doors were twenty feet high and at least ten feet across.
What first seemed like decorations in the wood were magical symbols of all shapes and sizes.
Now as the doors opened, the symbols began to shine.
One after the other, they lit up in a bright display of red light until the entire door was covered in the magical illumination.
Noise, like a hundred bats in flight, shot forth from the opposite side of the door.
Edison’s familiar head popped out. He was sporting goggles over a smeared coal black face.
He motioned them forward wearing a heavy set of leather work gloves.
“Please come in and welcome to A.M.M.O. ‘Advanced Machine Making and Observation,’ I’ve been waiting for you. ”