A Child of Two Worlds

by Mark Cole

  “Twelve hours this time, and you have been here for seven days now. Your husband is causing quite a disturbance outside. He is attempting to save you, I believe.”

  Hope flickered in her weakly. “Alex is here?”

  “Yes,” he said. “The Guardian is here. He leads a large army to the west of the Obsidian Tower. So far, they have been successful in forcing Azreal to draw more reinforcements from the Outer Realms.” He was silent for a moment. His reflective silver eyes were pensive. “I’ve gotten reports that he is experiencing mental instability. It seems the Guardian’s Blade is causing him to suffer from a case of severe schizophrenia.”

  Terra refused to dwell on that statement. “Who are you?” she asked.

  The man with the silver eyes and a metal arm gave her a warm smile. “I am the Architect.”

  “You are the Paragon of the Realm of Science?” Terra asked. He nodded. “Has Fyr thrown in with Azreal now?”

  “No,” he said at length. “I am merely here to observe Doctor Moore’s project. He says he has found a way to save the Realm of Science from being destroyed by the Overlord.”

  Terra fought down a biting comment. Every time she began to show resistance, she went immediately back into the green gel. She took another slow, tasteless bite as she considered a question. “What is your name, Architect?” she asked at length.

  “Theodore Thelonius the Third.”

  “That’s a mouthful,” she said after another bite.

  He smirked at her. “You may address me as Theo if you desire.”

  Terra took another bite. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. “Why are you working for Azreal, Theo?”

  The Architect looked her in the eyes, trying to judge the intent of her question. “I just told you. I am not working for Azreal. I am only here to observe.”

  His tone was what convinced her to push the issue. “But you know what he’s trying to do.”

  Theo nodded. “Of course I do. How could I not know Azreal intends to cast the universe out of balance and bring about the end? He doesn’t make a secret of it.”

  “Then why are you helping him? You are part of everything.”

  “How do you know everything will end?” he asked.

  Terra accepted the logic of the question. “I don’t,” she said. The Architect nodded. “But how do you know everything won’t end? It seems to be a pretty high stake to gamble on.”

  The Architect let out a small breath. He looked down at her bowl and saw she had eaten all of the nutrient mash. Theo pulled out a needle and inserted it into her arm. “I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to interfere,” he said as he depressed the plunger.

  “If you won’t fight for yourself, then who will?” Terra asked before darkness, fast and inexorable, overwhelmed her.

  The last sounds of battle died as Alex’s troops mopped up the remaining pockets of demons and undead. For a while, Alex had thought things were going to end badly. But, true to their word, the Changelings of the Wing arrived halfway through the battle and, with the dragons, had cleared the skies of winged demons and efreet. The sun was starting to set with the sounds of hammers on wood echoing into the twilight.

  As Alex watched the Changelings of the Wing work, he checked on Terra through the link. She was so weak it was difficult to detect her presence. “I wish we had known how to build cradles for the Silverwings,” he muttered. “We could have landed and gotten some rest.”

  “It would’ve made things a bit easier,” Brahm said. “Would’ve no’ taken so long gettin’ to Icethrone.”

  “And Terra might still be with us.”

  The Dwarf looked at him critically. “Do no’ start down that path, Alex. If ye start thinkin’ o’ could’ves an’ maybes then ye’ll end up thinkin’ that maybe it would’ve been better if ye’d no’ been born at all.”

  The Guardian grunted noncommittally. That wasn’t far off from what he had been thinking already. Someone else could have done this better. They wouldn’t have screwed things up so badly, he thought.

  The Voice of Balance echoed in his head.

  “Shut up, Maegan,” he said, not caring if the Dwarf heard. Brahm patted him on the back and started to walk back to the command tent. Alex was waiting for the first cradle to be built so Aeryn’s Silverwing could land.

  The Wing’s spellcasters had been instrumental in turning the tides of battle. The plan of making the enemy think they were outgunned had worked perfectly. As soon as the demons thought they had the upper hand, the Silverwings soared onto the field doling out death like wildfire.

  Alex stood there thinking of what he would have to do tomorrow while he waited for the ship to dock in the completed cradle. Caitlyn arrived while he waited. She stood silently next to him and watched the construction. It was comforting having her near. Other than Terra, the changeling was the first person he had met from this magical world. She did her best to remain positive that everything would get better and never judged him for what was happening to him.

  As soon as the ship was secured in the cradle, a number of birds flew from the decks. A peregrine falcon landed in front of him and changed into a man with brown hair and eyes wearing fur-trimmed leather clothing. His slightly hooked nose resembled a beak. A smaller falcon landed next to him and changed into a girl with similar features.

  “Guardian, I am Aeryn, and this is my daughter Hanna.” Alex had given the Winglord his description so he could be found easily after the battle.

  Alex held out his hand to the changeling. “It is good to meet you, Winglord.” They shook hands, and he repeated the gesture with Hanna. “And it is good to meet you too, Hanna.” She giggled as they shook hands.

  “You already met me, Alex!” she said with a grin.

  He couldn’t help but laugh at her innocent smile. “So I did. It is good to put a face with a voice and name though, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” she said.

  Alex held a hand out to Caitlyn. “This is my good friend, Caitlyn. Would you like to play with her while I talk to your father?”

  Hanna nodded eagerly. Caitlyn took her by the hand and led her away.

  Alex stood and faced the changeling. “You have a very cheerful and kind daughter, Winglord.”

  “Every day she reminds me of her mother,” he said with sad affection. His features grew grave. “My father was Winglord, Guardian, and now the title has passed down to me, but please call me Aeryn.”

  “Very well. But only if you will call me Alex.” The changeling nodded. “Your forces have won us a great victory today.”

  The Winglord shook his head. “I fear that we have not gained as much as you hope today, Alex. My cousin leads the scouts that we fly ahead of our ships. He said there was an army of over a million around the Obsidian Tower.”

  “We killed over three hundred thousand of them and lost less than a tenth that. So that leaves around three quarters of a million. We can still win this.”

  Aeryn shook his head. “He gave me that count less than an hour ago.”

  “That’s impossible,” Alex whispered. “How did they bring in a half-million so quickly? There were only eight hundred thousand yesterday.”

  “Since the arrival of the Obsidian Tower, our ability to travel to the other planes has been cut off,” the Winglord said. “The only one able to use planar travel magic is Azreal. He uses it to bring in the armies of Hell and Ignia, and they are boundless.”

  “So I’ve been told. I was just hoping everyone else was wrong.” He ran his right hand through his hair. He almost laughed in relief when he saw it was brown. “Come with me. The others will want to hear what you have to say.” Alex saw Caitlyn tossing a ball of light back and forth to Hanna not far away. “Caitlyn,” he called. “We are going to the command tent.”

  “We’ll be here,” she shouted back.

  The Guardian led the way to the command tent. It was a short walk, and in just a few minutes they arrived. He
held the flap open for Aeryn and followed him in. Everyone was in the same seats they had taken the first time they used the tent. “This is Aeryn Steelfeather,” he said. “He is the Winglord.” The others gave their greetings.

  Alex took his seat, and Aeryn sat in Caitlyn’s chair between him and Silvia. The chair at the head still sat unoccupied. “There is some bad news,” he said.

  “Bad news amidst such a great victory?” Ligon Stormbringer asked. He had led his northmen from the army’s van.

  “My scouts report Azreal’s army now numbers over a million.” Protests rose around the table. “That count is from after the battle,” Aeryn said cutting them off.

  “You mean we lost thirty thousand men and women and gained nothing?” Silvia asked.

  “We did no’ gain nothin’,” King Harbronn said. “There’s two hundred thousand more than yesterday. We lost ground in this war.”

  “This is hopeless,” Chieftain Rageclaw said angrily. “We are going to be wiped out.”

  Lord Bahamut grunted his agreement. “I do not think this is going to be a winning battle.”

  Alex slammed his hands on the table. Everyone closed their mouths and looked at him. “Then leave!” he shouted. “Run back to your castles and holes. Hide there until they come for you! Tell Azreal you realized what a terrible idea this war was, and maybe he’ll let you live.”

  The four that had spoken looked abashed. “It was not my intention to insinuate that we should give up, Guardian,” Bahamut said.

  “Good. The only thing this means is that we know he can move additional troops faster than we originally thought. If he can pull in half a million in a day then we’ll just have that many more to kill so we can slake our thirst for revenge. How many millions did he kill when he conquered Dae? Turnabout is fair play.”

  “How do you plan to turn this about, Alex?” Silvia asked.

  “We have to increase our tempo. It will be full dark soon. Get some rest while you can. I have some night ops planned.” Alex turned to face the Winglord. “We will need to use the Silverwings to do some raids, and as soon as they figure out what is going on, we bait them into giving chase.” Aeryn nodded.

  “King Harbronn, Chieftain Rageclaw, and Ligon will use this opportunity to get around the pursuing forces and cut into them from behind. As soon as they realize they are being hit from behind, fall back. Then Silvia, Timothy, and Lord Bahamut will hit them with the main force from the direction we were leading them. Aeryn, I need your ships back in the air in three hours. Can you do it?”

  The Winglord stood. “It will be done. If I may take my leave to inform my crews?”

  “Advise everyone not on watch or preparing for the attack to sleep as soon as they can. One ill move could doom this entire operation.” Aeryn nodded and strode from the tent. “We have two things that those monsters out there don’t: superior communication and a reason to win.

  “We have been beaten, bruised, and battered. Forced to endure countless hardships and atrocities. It is time we put Azreal through some of the things we have had to live with all these years.” Alex stood, and the others stood with him. “Rest while you can. We have a long night ahead of us.”

  “I’m sorry, Terra. I would stop this if I could, but I am sworn to not interfere. It would put Fyr in too much danger,” Theo said.

  Terra struggled to sit up. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to speak, much less eat the bowl of slop in front of her. She grabbed at the spoon but couldn’t close her fingers around it. Her eyes blurred, and she started to slump forward.

  The Architect caught her and helped her sit straight. His natural hand was warm on her skin, while his metal hand felt like ice. He slid a strap around the white shift he had given her the last time she awoke and secured her to the back of the chair. It was oddly shaped to accommodate the tubes, but she was relieved to be sitting instead of standing.

  A feeling of warmth spread from her belly, filling Terra with renewed strength. The computer in the scientist’s arm beeped, and he peered at the moving lines. “Odd,” he said as he looked at it. He studied her curiously.

  Terra grabbed the spoon in steadier fingers. Thank you, child, she thought. Don’t worry about me too much. Your father will be here soon. She lifted the spoonful of gray mush to her mouth and took a feeble bite.

  “How goes the war?” she asked.

  Theo shrugged. He had made it clear he did not care for Azreal’s war. “Well enough for you, I suppose. The Guardian was busy last night. He managed to kill more than Azreal could bring in from the other Realms. That’s quite the feat considering how badly his forces are outnumbered. He has the Overlord in very ill humor. Not that Azreal is ever in a positive one.”

  Terra almost laughed. “Why do you answer me when I ask, Theo?”

  He shrugged again. “The research has shown that hope can prolong the extraction process. Maybe I’m just telling you what you want to hear so every drop of power can be drained from you.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Terra said as she shook her head. “I think you are coming to realize Alex coming here is the best thing that can happen. What good is learning something new if you kill everything in the process?”

  “It is true that you have given me much to think on, Terra, but I have a job to do. I’m sorry, but I do.”

  Azreal suddenly appeared behind him. “I’ll overlook the fact that you said that,” the Overlord growled. “Leave me with the Nexus.”

  Anger flashed in Theo’s silver eyes, but it was gone before he stood and faced Azreal. A faint clicking sound came from the Architect’s prosthetic arm, and the metal began to glow white-hot. “I would remind you, Azreal, that I do not work for you, and I am only here fulfilling my duties as Paragon of Fyr.”

  Azreal eyed the glowing arm with a guarded wariness. “My apologies,” the Demon Lord said through clenched teeth. “Please leave me with the Nexus.”

  The metal cooled back to its silver color, and Theo walked away.

  How can I play them against each other? Terra thought.

  The demon moved forward and took hold of her jaw with a crushing grip, causing pain to shoot through her head and neck. His nightmare-black eyes drilled into her skull. “Your husband is beginning to annoy me, Woman.” He released her chin with a shove almost hard enough to topple the chair she was lashed to backwards.

  “Good,” she said defiantly. “I would hate to think he was making your life any easier.”

  “Are you trying to goad me into killing you? Keep it up, and you may just realize I can do much worse than the extraction pod.”

  She glared at him but remained silent. The Demon Lord paced around her. “I am going to drain you dry, Nexus. And when I do, I’ll use your power to destroy your beloved husband. Ah, to kill a man with his wife’s own energy, that will be a treat.”

  “What are you trying to get from me, Azreal? A yawn? You are boring me enough for it.” Terra’s flippant statement got her a full arm slap to her face. The chair tipped over, and the tubes in her right arm were ripped free. Blood seeped from the wounds. Azreal righted her with a glimmer of telekinetic force.

  The Overlord of Hell leaned in close. “You are a fading light, Nexus,” he whispered in her ear. “A guttering candle soon to be snuffed. I will kill you in front of the Guardian just so I can listen to his screams. And when you are dead, when he holds your lifeless corpse in his arms, I will peel the flesh from his living body.”

  “Alex will kill you before the week’s end,” she hissed.

  The points of Azreal’s teeth flashed as he smiled. “Two days? I can only hope that he tries.” He turned from her and walked away. A few minutes passed, and Theo returned.

  Muttering about the tubes missing from her arm, he pulled out a syringe from a compartment in his arm. It was filled with a substance that flickered with metallic sparkles. The Architect pushed a few buttons on his arm computer and injected her with it. She shook with fiery pain. Terra’s broken skin knitted closed. The si
lver liquid flowed from the wounds and crusted on her skin before flaking off.

  “Nanites,” he said. She raised an eyebrow. “Nanomachines. Microscopic robots.” Terra kept looking at him without understanding. “What do you primitives call them? They are machina too small for the eye to see. I injected you with them, and they repaired the damage to your arm.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked.

  The Architect replaced the snapped heads on the black hoses that had been on her arm. He lined them up carefully and reconnected them. “The biostatic gel is toxic if it gets in your bloodstream. You would die from shock in seconds.”

  “Have to keep your test subjects alive to keep your master happy?” she asked.

  Theo glared at her. He refilled her bowl, and when she finished eating, injected her with the serum he had been using to make her sleep. The Architect didn’t speak to her as she went unconscious.

  Alex swung the Wrathblade, separating the head from a horned Daemon. He kept a tight rein on the anger and was using the blade like a normal weapon instead of unleashing its devastating power. It took too much energy to use it that way for long, and the battle had already run longer than anticipated.

  The demon commander was clever and picked up on Alex’s tricks as fast as he could throw them out. Outnumbered in an ambush, Alex was forced to personally take part in the fighting and command from the front lines. He expected King Harbronn’s Hammer Legion to arrive soon and fill the gap. The sturdy dwarves had proven their elite unit’s worth time and time again over the last three days.

  “Guardian,” one of the elves he was fighting with called. “We are going to be surrounded soon. We need to fall back.”

  Alex disengaged from combat and jogged up the short rise behind him. The elf was right. There were two large groups of undead moving around to flank them, and the Hammer was nowhere to be found. He gave the order to move north as fast as possible.