The Black Tower: The Complete Series

by David R. Beshears

  “Brothers in arms,” Quinn sighed, managing a thin smile.

  “Exactly.” Banister hesitated then. He shrugged. “But it does get better. We do find a purpose. We serve how we can.”

  “I’ll do that,” groaned Quinn doubtfully.

  “You already have, my friend.” Banister gave Quinn a pat on the knee. “The information that you brought back with you is invaluable to us. The data posits many questions and many possibilities.”

  “I posit a few questions of my own.” Quinn nodded in the direction of the tower, the walls dull and scarred with what looked like withered portals. “You weren’t kidding about the changes to the tower. What the hell’s going on?”

  Banister glanced toward the tower. “Opinions differ; differences which I’m afraid your tale only exacerbates.”

  They sat then in silence, staring across the lot at the tower, their individual thoughts drifting. Near the recently formed opening into the first floor, General Wong was alone now, appeared reluctant to leave. He stood with his face lifted to the sun.

  §

  Ramos stood watch on the sandcastle’s front porch. The meadow was spread out before him, and beyond that the woods. A warm sun shone high in the sky above, paling the colors of the wildflowers in the field and lightening the white bark of the trees in the forest.

  The front hall was visible through the entryway behind him. Inside, Church and Susan were sitting on the steps near the bottom of the staircase. Lisa stood beside them, leaning a shoulder against the wall. Ramos could hear their muffled voices but couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about.

  He sensed movement to his right and stiffened, relaxed again when he saw Costa come around the corner and walk toward the front of the building.

  “What’s the plan, Sarge?” he asked, once she had reached the foot of the steps.

  “I wouldn’t go enrolling the kiddies in school, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “You don’t like the neighborhood?”

  Costa climbed the steps, turned around looked outward.

  “It’s quiet, I’ll give it that.”

  “But?”

  Costa turned about again and started inside. “Shopping’s a bitch.”

  Church smiled warmly at Costa’s approach. “Sara… the consensus here is that we move on. What do you say?”

  “I would agree,” she said. “There’s nothing for us here. No food, no water.”

  “And the only portal is the one to the next castle.”

  Costa gave a sharp nod. “So, what say we see what’s at that next castle?”

  “Very good,” said Church.

  “Where’s Professor Asher?”

  “He went that-a-way,” said Lisa. She indicated the downstairs hallway.

  Costa started in the direction of the hall, spoke back over her shoulder. “We’ll head out after lunch.”

  She glanced only briefly into each room as she followed the hallway to the corner room. She found Asher standing just beyond the threshold leading outside, actually within the portal, his back to her. His movements suggested that he was talking to someone, though there was no one there. He looked to be alone.

  She crossed the room and stopped at the opening. She heard nothing, but he was definitely in conversation with someone. He was talking, and was responding to whomever he was talking to.

  “Professor Asher,” she called. He didn’t react, apparently didn’t hear her. “Peter,” she said, louder.

  He still didn’t hear her. She was about to step through the portal when Asher took a step back, turned and came into the room. Costa had to step aside to let him in.

  “Sergeant Costa,” said Asher, somewhat startled.

  “Professor,” Costa nodded. “You mind telling me what that was about?”

  Asher looked back through the portal. “The Acolyte,” he said. “A bit overdressed, I should think.”

  Costa figured Asher thought she could see the Acolyte. She didn’t bother correcting him. “What did he want?” she asked.

  “I don’t really know,” he wondered aloud. “He was as cryptic as ever.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not much, really.” Asher shrugged. “He seemed curious more than anything else.”

  “Curious? Doesn’t he know, like, everything that goes on around here?”

  “That’s the impression I always had. Now though, I think he was a little confused.”

  Costa thought about what this might mean. “That doesn’t sound so good.”

  “All I really got out of it was that we have to reach the Great Hall at all costs.”

  “Wasn’t that already the plan?”

  “Yes, but…” Asher hesitated. “This sounded ominous.”

  “Damn,” grumbled Costa.

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “No.”

  Episode Eleven / Chapter Two

  Major Connelly was sitting on a park bench, a wide walkway running past her. On the other side of the walk was a freshly mown green lawn and beyond that a pond. There were several ducks gliding about on the surface of the pond.

  The day was pleasant. There was a gentle breeze that kept the air from getting too warm. Connelly could see no one else in the park, but she thought she heard children playing somewhere.

  But of course, none of this was real.

  Connelly was afraid. She didn’t know why she should be afraid, but she was. She didn’t know how she had gotten here. She wasn’t here and then she was. She couldn’t remember where she was before she was here.

  She couldn’t remember anything before she was here.

  That was what frightened her. She wasn’t anywhere before she was here. This was the beginning.

  And yet that could not be so. This couldn’t be the beginning. There had been something before.

  Had there not?

  Far to her right then, some distance up the walkway, a figure. Someone was approaching. He had a tranquil, easy walk… serene, unhurried. He was enjoying this pleasant day.

  It was him. The one. It was the Creator of All Things.

  He was tall and slim, light-complexion and jet-black hair pushed behind his ears. He was dressed in casual dark trousers, a button shirt and a light windbreaker. His eyes sparkled, as if there was a constant smile somewhere behind them.

  Connelly was no longer afraid. She felt calm. She felt at peace. Everything was going to be all right.

  He reached the bench and sat down beside her, turned about slightly to face her more directly.

  He placed a hand on her forearm. “You have done well, child,” he said. His voice was as gentle as the expression he wore, sparkled as warmly as the smile behind his eyes.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say.

  “The time draws near. There are things that you should know.”

  And so they talked. And as they talked, Connelly drew in the essence of the one as one might draw breath from the air.

  When they were finished and Connelly knew the things that she should know, the Creator of All Things smiled kindly and gave her arm a tender touch before standing. He continued on his walk, enjoying this pleasant day. In moments, he was gone from sight.

  And then Connelly was alone once again.

  She had always been alone, here, in this park, on this bench.

  But now… now it was all right.

  §

  By the time Asher got to the portal room, the rest of the team was already there and getting ready, donning their worn, frayed and faded backpacks and strapping on their utility belts with canteens and the occasional knife.

  Costa started them through the portal, sending Ramos out first. Unlike the portals they were familiar with, the world beyond this one was visible to them, and watching Ramos step into that world was unsettling. It should have been comforting, being able to see what they were about to walk into, but it wasn’t. This just wasn’t the same, and in the tower what was unfamiliar was always unsettling
.

  Lisa Powell followed Ramos through, and Church followed Lisa. Once on the other side, each started along the path toward the next sandcastle, visible in the distance.

  Susan hesitated. She looked through the portal, glanced back to Costa and Asher.

  “Always hate this. Always.”

  “It’ll be fine, Doctor Bautista,” said Costa.

  “That doesn’t lessen the hate any,” Susan said halfheartedly.

  Asher shrugged a shoulder. “Hey, this time we see what we’re getting ourselves into.”

  “Do we?”

  Susan stepped into the portal, leaving only Costa and Asher. Asher mumbled in the direction of Susan’s retreating figure.

  “Hope so.”

  “Okay, Professor,” said Costa. “After you.”

  “Thank you, Sara,” Asher said with a nod, and stepped through the threshold.

  The sky was a light gray, the air smelled stale. The others of the team were walking ahead of him, set a few paces apart, already beginning to stretch away.

  Asher started forward, four or five steps behind Susan. Moments later, he heard Costa come through the portal behind him.

  As he walked, a steady pace, a growing sense of discomfort welled up within him. Barely noticeable at first, it crept up and took hold.

  This didn’t feel right. The path they walked, the peculiar world they found themselves traveling through… it was… not right.

  And then the discomfort grew heavy. The world began to weigh on him, but more than that, there was something very disconcerting happening. It seemed to Asher that with every step he took, Susan took two. And with each two steps that Susan took, Church took four… and so on up, for all those walking before him. Within half a minute of Asher stepping through the portal, the team was spread out in a long, straggling line. He couldn’t see Ramos at all.

  It became more and more difficult to walk. The air that Asher was moving through felt thick, felt rough against his face. He had to struggle to lift his hand and hold it out before him.

  The air… it felt like sand.

  Susan, now more than a hundred feet ahead, looked back at Asher. She said something, but it was impossible to hear her words. She pointed then. She was pointing behind him.

  Asher looked back over his shoulder. He stopped and turned around.

  Costa was thirty paces back along the path. She too had stopped and was looking back the way they had come.

  The sandcastle, now distant, was disintegrating. The sky above it was dark and menacing, hanging heavy with ugly clouds. Great shifting whorls of brown rose up from the decomposing castle, the sand drawn up into the mass of blackish sky.

  Back along the path, Costa waved for Asher to continue on as she herself started forward again. Walking looked to be as difficult for her as it was for Asher.

  He turned and leaned into the thick, gritty air, took one step and then another. Susan was even further ahead now, the distance between them growing ever greater. The second sandcastle didn’t look any closer.

  He lowered his head, leaned forward and pressed on. As the seconds passed, his sense of discomfort grew worse. The increasing uneasiness came up from somewhere deep within him. It felt like the sand was on the inside of his skull as much as the outside. It tickled at his mind.

  A figure appeared a few yards ahead and a bit to one side. The Acolyte was dressed in tan-colored flowing robe and hood, and had his mouth and nose covered. He was looking at the disintegrating castle in the distance behind Asher and was shaking his head sadly.

  “This does not look good, my friend.”

  Asher ignored him, continued plodding forward.

  §

  Owen found Connelly standing some distance from the black tower, looking back at it, lost in thought and probably not really seeing anything.

  “Major… are you all right?”

  It took Connelly a few moments to respond. “I’ll be fine.”

  “That would suggest that at the moment you are not fine.”

  “I’m fine,” Connelly said gently.

  Owen decided to let it go, or at least to look for another approach. She stood beside the major and studied the tower.

  The blemishes they assumed to be misshapen portals leading who-knew-where were gone, had disappeared overnight. Yet the surfaces of the walls were not the gleaming black polish as before. The walls appeared now rough and faded.

  If Elizabeth Owen had to put it into words, she would say the tower was dying.

  And Elizabeth Owen was never one to shy away from putting it into words.

  “It’s dying,” she stated, calm yet firm.

  “Yes,” said Connelly. “It would appear so.”

  This led Owen to another possibility. “Is our Adversary dying as well?”

  “That is an interesting postulation.”

  And that was an interesting response, thought Owen. She would set that aside for the moment, as well. “Where would that leave us?” she asked. “What happens when we reach him, and the Adversary is… um… no longer in any condition to confront us?”

  “Doctor Owen, you misunderstand. Adversary. The Adversary. He is not… your… adversary.”

  “No?”

  “He is mine.”

  Whoa, that is most telling, thought Owen. “Okay. That begs the question. You are… who?”

  “I am…” Connelly had to think about that, to let the truth come to her. The words came slowly. “I am of the one who sleeps. I am the manifestation of the one. I am…” she smiled then, but it was a haunting smile. “I am the dream given breath.”

  She hesitated again, turned her head slightly to one side. “We… have become adversary to the one who walks.”

  “So there’s two?” asked Owen.

  “There is one.”

  “But you just said—”

  “There is one,” Connelly stated firmly. “I am of the Adversary. I am of the one who sleeps.”

  Owen persisted. “And then there is the one who walks.”

  “Yes,” said Connelly. “Adversary. The one who walks.”

  “The one who walks, and the one who sleeps.”

  “The One. The Creator of All Things.”

  And that was it. Major Connelly was finished. She continued to study the tower, seemed almost entranced by it. Owen looked more closely at it then.

  There was something happening. She could swear there was something happening. She took several steps forward.

  The wall… it looked… alive. There was movement. There was a thin, tan mist hovering just on the surface.

  Owen continued to walk nearer. As she did so, she thought she felt something in the air. There was a grittiness to it. She stopped and looked back to Connelly. Connelly’s focus continued to be the tower itself. Owen had to call to her to get her attention. She held out a hand, rubbed her fingers together.

  “Sand?” she asked. “Major? Sand?”

  Major Connelly finally lowered her gaze and looked at Owen. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, it’s sand all right. But… what does it mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Connelly said again.

  They both turned at the approach of Banister and Lake. Asking Major Connelly if she was all right, she said only “Sand.”

  Lake gave her a blank stare, but Banister turned quickly to the tower.

  “Oh, dear,” he said.

  Dr. Lake also then looked to the tower. Setting aside any further questions, such as where had the major been, “Perhaps we should be going,” he said.

  “Perhaps so,” said Banister. “No sense having an elevator if we don’t put it to use, eh?”

  It took a bit of encouragement, but they finally managed to get Major Connelly to go with them. Owen followed along, unseen by all but Connelly.

  The others of command were already milling about near the elevator, making preparations to move out. At the news of the most recent change to the tower, General Wong gave the word. Calm, but definitely an order.

/>   “Grab your gear, everyone. We’re heading upstairs.”

  At least that was the hope. They didn’t really know if the elevator would work; and if it did, they had no way of knowing where it would take them.

  To Banister’s mind, that it would work and that it would take them upstairs were reasonable assumptions. He was first to the elevator. He pushed the button and the door slid aside. Standing to one side, the others started into the elevator.

  Banister looked then to Connelly.

  Connelly took a step back. “No. No, you go on ahead,” she said.

  Banister blocked the elevator door from closing. “Don’t be silly. Time to be on our way, Major.”

  “I think I’ll stay here awhile.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Connelly shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm. I see,” Banister said thoughtfully. “A directive from above, then.”

  Connelly shrugged again. She wasn’t sure. She knew only that she was to stay behind.

  General Wong stepped out. “Major?”

  “I’m sorry, General.”

  The general moved away from the elevator and stood directly before Connelly. He studied her a moment. “Quite all right, Major,” he said at last. “If you think this best.”

  “Best, Sir.”

  A slow nod. “Very well, then.”

  Owen stood beside Connelly. She placed a hand on her elbow. “Oh, I guess I’ll stick around for a bit as well, Major.”

  Connelly turned side-glance at Owen. “You don’t have to do that, Doctor.”

  Banister looked to where Connelly was looking. “Doctor Owen, I presume? Staying behind as well?”

  “So she says,” said Connelly.

  “Doctor Banister,” the general urged, backing again into the elevator.

  “Yes,” Banister sighed softly. He stepped in as the others made room for him, continued to hold the door open. He looked to Major Connelly, said nothing further.

  “We’ll see you upstairs, Major,” said General Wong.

  Major Connelly gave the general a sad smile as Dr. Banister let the door close.

  Looking at the panel, Banister saw only one button. He reached out and pressed it. There was a slight shudder and the car began to move.