Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  “Oh. Uh, well, as I was saying… I don’t mean to offend. Like I said, I’m not from around here, so if what I’m about to tell you is, in your opinion, in any way improper, I want you to simply say so. I’ll undo it immediately and apologize, both for my ignorance and for offending you. Fair?”

  “An offense given without intent is one for which no offense should be taken.”

  “That sounds remarkably wise.”

  “Book of Namae, chapter two, verse eleven.”

  “I may have to read it.”

  “There should be a copy in one of the chests, in the tent. You are welcome to it.”

  “You can find it when you dig through your stuff. What I was getting at was the gems I found.”

  “We did not think it needful to bring gold and jewels into battle.”

  “Agreed. But some of bigger ones caught my eye.”

  “They are yours, if you wish.”

  “Oh, no! No, no, no. They were large enough to give me an idea—an idea for something you might find… um… improper? Maybe offensive? That’s what I’m getting at.”

  “How so?”

  I unlaced the pouch at my belt and handed it to Aramon. He opened it and looked inside.

  “I still do not understand.”

  “Well, I could pack up all your stuff and give you a ride to Skybridge—”

  “Bridgetown.”

  “Right. Bridgetown, the place with the Skybridge. Sorry. Or, instead of giving you a ride and sending you on your way, I thought I might give you something to help you with the whole process of getting people together for your next dragon-hunt.”

  “This?” Aramon asked, holding up the pouch.

  “Yep.”

  “How so?”

  “Pick out a gem.” Aramon did so. “Hold it in your hand and think of one of your friends. Which one are you thinking of?”

  “Y’vin.”

  “What now?” asked Y’vin’s voice, from within Aramon’s closed fist. Aramon dropped the gem and it landed in the dirt between his feet. A misty vapor billowed out of the jewel and rose like smoke. In a matter of moments, the smoke filled out and took the form of what had to be his wizard. In all respects, he seemed like a wizard—robes, pouches, long walking stick, sheathed wand, and sour expression. He was a misty, translucent figure, but unquestionably there.

  “Oh, good,” I said. “It works.”

  “What are you staring at?” the faded wizard demanded, glaring at Aramon. “Haven’t you ever seen a spiritual manifestation before?”

  “See,” I went on, ignoring the commentary, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to consult with your friends or not. If you like, we can simply break the gems and they’ll go back to whatever afterlife journey they were on, no harm done—”

  “Touch my stone and I’ll turn your eyelids to salt!” Y’vin shouted. The ghostly wizard snatched at the gemstone, but his hand went right through both the gem and the ground, leaving trails of spectral mist and a mystified expression behind.

  “They have no power at all over their spiritual containment matrix,” I added.

  Aramon watched the ineffectual wizard grumble and poke through the gemstone.

  “Is it all right?” I asked. “I don’t know the local customs on summoning the spirits of the dead for advice. I don’t usually need to know, since I don’t usually do it. I do know some people get touchy about it, and if that’s the case here, I apologize.”

  “You have done so now because you believe I require the advice of my former companions?”

  “Hold hard a moment,” the ghost demanded. “I may be dead, but I’m still your companion. Or you’re my companion—we can sort it out later. I’m here, I’m angry, and you’re going to need my help to lay that quadruply-damned dragon in its grave!”

  “Essentially, yes,” I agreed.

  “The other three gems…?”

  “Gorgar!” I called, directing my word at the pouch.

  “Huh? What?” Ethereal mist flowed through the pouch to form a human shape. Tall, broad-shouldered, powerful, the shape of a brawny fighting man coalesced, complete with armor and sword, his ghostly shield still strapped to his back.

  “If you say their names, the gems cause them to manifest,” I told Aramon. “It’s an act of will and a word to guide it.”

  “I see,” Aramon said, faintly. Y’vin nodded in understanding.

  “Where am I?” Gorgar asked, looking around. “What happened?”

  “Let me get a mallet and try to drive the explanation into your head…” Y’vin threw an arm around the broad shoulders and guided his insubstantial friend away.

  “Admittedly,” I went on, quietly, to Aramon, “the first plan you tried didn’t turn out so well. Now you guys know a lot more about the dragon, the lair, and so forth. With better planning and some preparation, maybe you stand a chance.”

  “Indeed we may. I am not comfortable with this… necromantic aid, however.”

  “Yeah, I figured you might have a problem with it,” I admitted. “Uh… Thing is, the spell doesn’t work… unless… uh, unless the spirit has unfinished business on the mortal plane. They were… going to haunt the lair. Yeah. This just lets them finish their mortal business so they can… do whatever people do afterward. It… uh, it doesn’t work on people who want to pass on. This gives them a chance to finish their business and pass on in peace.”

  “That is something of a comfort, I suppose,” Aramon admitted, relaxing slightly. “I would not be comfortable with the idea they were unquiet dead, doomed to haunt the place of their passing.”

  “Exactly. Yes. That’s exactly right. Yes. So, do you think this will help? I mean, they can’t actually do much, but they’re your friends and maybe they can come up with an idea or two. You can at least talk it over, right?”

  “I shall. If they wish to take up once more the quest to slay the creature, I shall welcome them, destroying their soul gems only when we succeed—and wear them into battle so if I am slain, they may be destroyed with me.”

  “I heard that!” Y’vin snapped, from beside the tent.

  “Then you know you are in no danger!” Aramon snapped back. He caught himself and smiled ruefully. “He is certainly Y’vin.”

  “Glad to have helped. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve poked my nose into your business for long enough. I should get back to minding to my own.” I stood up and Aramon rose with me.

  “Please, can I not persuade you to remain? A master enchanter such as yourself would surely prove a great asset in the battle to come.”

  “I would love to help, really I would, but I’ve already stayed here too long. I’ve got business of my own to attend to, and I’ve been goofing off here. Time waits for no man. Neither rain nor sleet nor huge green things with big, pointy teeth shall stay these couriers. All that stuff. I only hope I’ve helped, at least a little. That’s all I can reasonably hope to do.”

  Shut, up, Firebrand.

  I didn’t say anything.

  Just getting ahead of the curve.

  “If such is your wish,” Aramon agreed, bowing slightly. “I shall remember you in my prayers. If we achieve victory, I will see your name is raised up with ours.”

  “I haven’t done anything, really. I was nothing more than a good Samaritan—I hope.”

  “Samaritan?”

  “A country famed for its helpful inhabitants. No thanks, no glory for me. You go carry on as if I wasn’t involved at all.”

  “It seems hardly fair.”

  “Maybe, but you’re going to have to live with it.”

  “Since you are adamant, I again must bow to your wishes.” Aramon extended his hand and I started to shake hands. He clasped wrists instead. “Good fortune on your travels.”

  “Same to you. Goodbye!”

  I swung into the saddle and waved. Bronze reared, turned in place, and carried me away.

  Successful escape, Boss. Now what?

  “Now we go back to Apocalyptica and develop better w
ays to spy on other worlds. This jumping into alien cultures is starting to get on my nerves.”

  Must be tough, hunting Boojums.

  “It is. I was expecting a generic vampire type everywhere we go. Obviously, I was wrong.”

  Yeah. So, do you think these hero types will be able to do anything about the Boojum-dragon?

  “I hope so. If Aramon is any indication, they’re certain to try. I’m hoping the dead ones can keep him from going off on a kamikaze attack. With luck, they’ll persuade him to get together a real party of dragon-slayers and come back.

  “My real worry,” I went on, “is the Sarevos guy. I don’t know if the Boojum is establishing itself as a religious figure—a dragon cult, for example—or if it just wants to suck up the local energies without attracting too much attention from the local gods. That’s what I think is going on in Flintridge.”

  I don’t follow.

  “There are vampires in Flintridge. Vampires reproduce geometrically. I could start somewhere—say, a small town that won’t be missed—and turn everyone into vampires. Then, dispatching three-man teams to major cities, have them create vampires in groups of three. The first twelve vampires they create—four groups—are immediately sent to other cities, then the original team starts infesting their city. This spreads the infection drastically and starts building up a massive force in the hometown.”

  I don’t get the part about geometry. Isn’t geometry about shapes and angles and stuff?

  “Oh. Sorry. I mean they reproduce with incredible rapidity. Even if we assume they require the traditional three-day dormant period—bite someone and drain them to start the process, wait three days, boom, vampire—the person doing it isn’t required to wait three days before biting someone else. In one night, a team of three vampires can go through a whole neighborhood. If they’re trying to be subtle, they can go through a whole apartment building and remove the bodies to someplace safe for the transformation. The second night, they can do it again, and the third night, do it again. On the third night, there are suddenly a hundred more vampires helping. Next night, there are two hundred. Then three hundred. After that, the numbers get ridiculous—ten thousand vampires are up and around by the end of the first week.”

  Okay, that’s… ten thousand?

  “Assuming everything goes according to plan, yes. No doubt some things will not go according to plan, so the number will be lower. But the world is full of people who don’t believe in vampires and won’t accept there are vampires roaming the night. It’ll slow their reaction. Besides, any witnesses are likely to join the undead club. So, yeah, ten thousand in the first week, maybe a million within ten or twelve days. Whole cities can turn into graveyards, emptied in short order as they all make tracks in the night to find fresh blood.”

  You know how I’ve always maintained dragons are the most dangerous creatures ever created?

  “Yes?”

  I’ll consider taking it back.

  “I understand.”

  So, why hasn’t the Lord of Light—excuse me, The Boojum—done it?

  “I’ve been thinking about that very question. I think it’s the angels.”

  Do I get to meet one?

  “I think you did. I’ll explain. The local angels—well, the ones watching over the parallel, multiple Earths—say they have a mandate to keep chaos out. They watch over the order of the universe. They have some sort of restrictions regarding humans, so I’m not a valid target. I still have a soul, or I’m not all dead, yet, or whatever. But these Boojum-vampires should be. They’re dead, all the way dead, and can be smote. So the black-hearted vampires have to keep a low profile. If they spread too much, the fiery eyes of Heaven glare meaningfully at them and they crumble to dust, or something. Maybe an angel with a flaming sword descends and gets to work. I don’t know.

  “My suspicion is the Boojum has his feeding fangs in the world and is leeching away what he can get without risking divine wrath. Thus, the vampires aren’t trying to take over, just trying to get away with whatever they can.”

  Two things: You mentioned I might have met an angel, and I know there’s a world where the vampires did take over. Explain those.

  “Dracula’s World,” I agreed. “Those aren’t Boojum vampires. I’d class them as typical mystical monsters, not deeply connected conduits to a hungry quasi-deity. My hypothesis is the vampirism of that world isn’t a higher-order issue. It’s like local wizards, mutated elephants, or human cruelty. It’s not connected to a higher—or lower—power, just a fact of life. I don’t think it’s part of the angels’ mandate to stamp it out, but I haven’t tried to interrogate an energy-state being in that particular world.”

  So, they don’t bother with local phenomena, just with big picture stuff?

  “That’s only a guess. I think it’s a good guess, though.”

  All right. And the angel I met?

  “The Lord of Light. Well, the Boojum, disguised as the Lord of Light. On the road through the Darkwood. Remember?”

  Oh, I remember! But that’s one of the gods of Karvalen, not an angel. Isn’t it?

  “From what I’ve seen, he bears more of a resemblance to an angel than to the local gods. From a practical perspective, there’s not much difference. Both types are powerful energy-state beings. His structure, the fabric of his essence, is different from the so-called gods. The gods of Karvalen are formed—I think—by a process of belief taking shape. It’s an organic process, where the being starts out small and slowly grows into what they think of as a god. The Boojum is a created thing, assembled and built like a phenomenally complex spell.”

  So, who created it and can we get him to take it apart?

  “Those are questions I can’t answer.”

  Why not?

  “Because I suspect whoever created it also created the other angels, and they have a mandate to keep the chaos outside from coming inside. I’m infected with that chaos. The angels don’t smite me because I’m still human. Human-ish. Kinda. I don’t think their architect is going to have the same programming fault, so if I attract its attention by complaining, it could not only evaporate me but correct the protocol restricting the angelic things. Not that I’ll care if it fixes things or not, since I’ll be an expanding cloud of various high-temperature gases.”

  Hmm.

  “Come on. Let’s go back to the residence.”

  Apocalyptica, Thursday, October 16th, Year 11

  By comparison, my trip to Boojum World #2 was darn near boring. I popped in for a quick survey. I found a vampire living in a castle and lording it over a town and some local villages. It was almost stereotypical. From what I gathered, the nobility of the kingdom were vampires, the eternal rulers. It was just the way things were. Other kingdoms, other nobles. I presume all the vampire overlords were Boojum bloodsuckers, but I didn’t get around enough to check. Just one was enough.

  It strikes me as odd there are so few universes where the vampires won. I mean, you’d think there would be more. Then again, maybe there are more than I think. There are a number of dead worlds. They may have thousands of starving, comatose vampires buried in deep caverns for all I know.

  There’s a disturbing thought.

  At least the vampires on Boojum World #2 weren’t being Evil Overlords. From what I could tell, they were doing a pretty decent job of maintaining their human ranches. There was surprisingly little oppression or tyranny. There was adequate food, a decent standard of living, and so on. It said something positive about a well-run dictatorship.

  Population control measures, on the other hand, were fully in force. The weak, the sick, the old—and the rebellious, traitorous, religious, or simply contemplating the overthrow of their vampire masters—were dinner. It said something negative about dictatorships run by blood-sucking monsters.

  I didn’t stick around long. The place made me uncomfortable. I did take note of possible avenues of attack, assuming we wanted to chop off the Boojum’s feeding, but upsetting the entire social an
d political order of a whole world is not something to undertake lightly.

  After my initial survey, I returned to Apocalyptica. I sat in the media room, watching the feed from our latest-model stealth drone and reflecting how scrying spells aren’t all that different.

  While the technological device whisked through the skies of a magical world, I had time to wonder. Why is it worlds with magic tend not to be worlds with higher technology? I’m not sure. We haven’t yet found any exceptions, but we haven’t searched them all, either. The highest technological development I’ve seen in a magic-heavy world is usually on par with the Renaissance. Mary’s place with the Greeks—Arcadia, that was it—was edging up close to the Steam Age in some ways, making it exceptionally advanced for technomagical development.

  I suspect the lack of scientific advancement stems from a case of magical thinking. Where would we be if Galileo’s experiments with falling objects gave him results based on what people believed would happen? Heavier objects would fall faster than lighter ones, at least when someone who thought they should behave that way was watching. It’s hard to conduct rigorous scientific testing when your expectations might change the result!

  This is a no-good way to science. I can see how it might have a serious impact on any budding Newton or Galileo or other brilliant thinker.

  The other issue, I think, is the fact of magic. It changes the attitude toward developing technology. I don’t need to find a better way to pump water out of a mine if I have a wizard. The investment of time and energy and money into researching some non-magical “steam” gizmo is stupid. Why would anyone bother to go to all that trouble? Zap! Problem solved. Wasn’t that cheaper, easier, and quicker?

  Just my idea on why. I can’t prove it, but it makes sense to me. It’s as logical as heavier objects falling faster than lighter ones. Who was it that said, “Logic is an organized way to go wrong with confidence”?

  Anyway, Diogenes and I watched while the drone flew an expanding spiral search pattern. This place was no different from a bunch of other magical universes. People lived in hamlets, villages, towns, and cities. Farmers clustered together, surrounded by their fields. Industry clustered in cities. We watched a representative of the local vampire lord come into town and select someone. There was crying and a bunch of farewells, but they seemed willing to accept it as much as any death from “natural causes.”