"Why be a servant, when I can be a master?" he asked himself. He heard footsteps then, and moved away from the heart before the Gaunt Man entered the room.
"The ravagons have moved to detain the stormers, and Kurst is on his way to bring them back to us," the Gaunt Man explained. "With that taken care of, I can concentrate on my work."
"Tell me of Heketon, master," Thratchen asked suddenly. For a moment, he thought he had said the wrong thing. But the Gaunt Man did not seem angry. He stood beside the obsidian heart and spoke in a far away voice.
"The heart came to me on a world very far from here, its distance measured in both space and time. From the moment I first heard its song of power, I knew that that world would be mine."
"What of the legend, master?" Thratchen pressed, eager to hear the tale again.
"The darkness device claimed to come from a nameless god who thrived on destruction. It told me that untold power would be mine if I used it to destroy. But every act of destruction provided me with strength, and when I destroyed my homeworld I received power on a grand scale. I never encountered a nameless god, not through all my travels through the cosmverse. If this being ever existed, it must have died a long time ago."
"Do you really believe that, master? Is the Nameless One nothing more than a myth?"
"If the Nameless One were anything more, would it not have contacted me? Have I not been the greatest of the cosm raiders? Have I not spread its religion of destruction across a hundred worlds? No, the Nameless One is gone, Thratchen, and in its place will rise the Torg—as the legends also say. And I shall be the Torg."
The look in the Gaunt Man's eyes frightened the demon. This High Lord was power incarnate, and the game Thratchen played was virtually suicidal. But the questions that he yearned to answer were never closer, and he would play the game to the last move, no matter its outcome.
"Now leave me, Thratchen," the Gaunt Man ordered. "I have much work to complete before the other High Lords arrive on Earth."
82
The van traveled west on I-76, making decent time despite the falling rain. Father Bryce was at the wheel, talking quietly with Coyote. In the rearview mirror, he could see the rest of their band. Rick Alder and Tal Tu were asleep, resting after working throughout the night to tune up the van. Mara was fidgeting with a small object, and had remained quiet since they left Philadelphia. Rat was reading a comic book and cracking gum. Tolwyn, who Bryce hardly thought of as Wendy Miller anymore, was watching the passing scenery in fascination. He smiled at her wide-eyed expressions and soft sounds of wonder, then he went back to concentrating on the drive.
Most of the traffic was going east, cars and trucks filled to overflowing with personal possessions and families. Many of the refugees were on foot, moving along in groups huddled together for safety. If they were fleeing from the same creatures that drove Bryce and others like him out of New York, then the problem was of an even larger scale than the priest had imagined.
On the northern horizon, a massive storm front loomed threateningly. It had been with them since they passed Harrisburg, always on the edge of their vision, always out the corner of their eyes. Bryce glanced to his right every so often to track its progress, but it didn't seem to be advancing. Still, the lightning that danced along its edge frightened him like no storm had ever done before, and that made him uncomfortable.
Bryce checked the rearview mirror, and Tolwyn again caught his attention. He was amazed at the vitality and the strength in Tolwyn's body. She had gotten visibly stronger each day at the hospital. Somehow, he knew that this young woman named Tolwyn was already physically stronger than Wendy Miller had ever been.
A road sign showed golden arches, and words beneath them proclaimed "food." Both Bryce and Coyote turned to each other simultaneously, smiles of anticipation spreading across their faces.
"Why not?" Bryce asked no one in particular as he slowed to exit the highway.
Storm clouds scudded through the gathering darkness in the eastern sky as Bryce pulled the van into the parking lot of the McDonald's.
"Come on, everybody, let's go grab some hamburgers," he said as he parked the vehicle and turned off the engine.
Mara looked up from the object she had been working on. "What's a hamburger?" she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.
"And why would we want to grab them?" asked Tolwyn puzzledly.
"A hamburger is something to eat," Bryce answered, his attention focused on Mara. He wondered where she could have grown up without ever hearing of a hamburger. Because of her memory loss, he could understand Tolwyn's ignorance, but the golden arches had conquered the world — he knew that from his travels. He also knew the doctor wasn't joking. But even a child prodigy attending college and medical school would have heard of, and probably eaten, hamburgers.
But he was even more fascinated by the sight of Mara's left hand as she used it to rub at the corners of her eyes. The hand was clawlike; the fingers were banded and tipped with gleaming metal; the thumb was flattened, looking almost as if it were meant to have something placed upon it and held there. In the hospital she had been wearing leather gloves. Now one glove was resting across her lap.
"What happened to your hand?" Coyote asked before the priest could get the words out.
"Surgical enhancement," Mara answered nonchalantly, as though it was a most natural thing.
"For what reason?" asked Bryce.
"To help me do what I do," Mara said, looking Bryce directly in the eyes. Her eyes told him she was not going to lie to him. For whatever reason, she was here to help Tolwyn, just like the rest of them.
"What is it you do?" The question came from Rick Alder, ever the police officer, who was sitting up now, obviously wakened by all the talking.
"I design and build microchips."
Bryce was taken aback for a moment, having thought of Mara as a physician. "What kind of a doctor are you, Dr. Hachi?"
"Physics and microengineering."
"Two doctorates! How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"I don't understand," said Bryce, ignoring for now the apparent conflict between her age and her stated abilities. "Why did the hospital put you in charge of Tolwyn's case?"
"Yes," said Tolwyn. She was facing Mara. "Who are you?"
Mara took a deep breath and sighed. "It's a long story," she said and held up her right hand to stop Bryce as he opened his mouth to object. "Get me one of these hamburgers, and I'll tell you while we eat."
"I'll buy you a dozen hamburgers if you answer our questions," promised Alder.
"Be careful. I'm liable to take you up on that offer," Mara said and grinned impishly.
"I don't think we have anything to worry about, Rick. She's too little to eat that much," Bryce said and chuckled. His suspicions were allayed as he got caught up in Mara's infectiously good humor.
"Yeah, but I'm giga-hungry!" exclaimed Mara as she slid open the side door of the van and jumped down to the gravel of the parking lot.
The others piled out, too, except for Tal Tu. They still felt it would be better if he remained out of sight in public places. The edeinos nodded reservedly, agreeing to their logic. But as the others started to shut the door, Tal Tu reminded them, "Bring Tal Tu and Cat something to eat."
"What do you eat?" Rat asked innocently.
"Meat," Tal Tu answered. "But I will try this food Father Bryce called hamburger."
"Enough of this Father Bryce nonsense," the priest shouted. "Will everyone please just call me Chris?"
As they walked toward the glass door at the front of the restaurant, Mara took Bryce by the arm and pulled him to a stop. "I cannot answer all your questions, Chris. I can only tell you what I know."
"Fair enough, Dr. Hachi," Bryce said.
"Enough of this Dr. Hachi nonsense," she smiled. "Call me Mara."
"Not Maratu?"
Mara sighed. "This may take longer to explain than I thought."
83
T
he two ravagons stood in the alley behind the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. They had traveled from Takta Ker to the Living Land realm via maelstrom bridge, then had flown from New York to Philadelphia under their own power. The hospital staff had not been helpful, running and screaming at the sight of the powerful beings. But the ravagons found the room where the two stormers met with little trouble. Finding it empty angered them, however, and they vented much of that anger on patients and hospital staff.
"Let the bloody mess serve as a warning," the first ravagon declared.
"Yes, but there is no challenge in ripping apart ords," the second ravagon noted.
The first ravagon examined the alley closely, touching the ground and extending his supernatural senses. Finally, he spread his black wings.
"I have the trail," he informed his partner. "Follow me."
The ravagons took to the sky, flying west to intercept the female stormers and their traveling companions.
84
Bryce was beginning to doubt the wisdom of Alder's offer as he sat and watched Mara bite into her fourth hamburger, pick at her second order of fries, and drink her second milk shake. Tolwyn was eating even more than the kid, but Bryce could understand that. Tolwyn was a tall, athletic woman, and her metabolism probably needed large amounts of fuel to burn. But he couldn't figure out where Mara was putting it all. Even Rat and Coyote had slowed after their second burgers.
Bryce himself had only eaten one hamburger, some fries and a cup of coffee; he was content with that. Youth must be able to eat more, he figured, growing bodies and other nonsense. With bellies full and hot coffee steaming in white styrofoam cups in front of them, Bryce, Alder, Mara and Tolwyn leaned back in the booth and relaxed. Rat and Coyote had gone to the counter to order "something for the road — and for Tal Tu and Cat."
The priest watched as Tolwyn picked up her cup of coffee, sipped tentatively at the hot, black liquid, and made a face. She sipped again. Mara had tasted the coffee and immediately put the cup back on the table and pushed it away, her decision made.
"The milk shakes were better," said Tolwyn.
"Yeah," said Mara, "and the hamburgers weren't bad."
"So, tell us about yourself," Alder suggested to Mara. Mara sat quietly for a moment or two, then said, "Let me show you something first."
With the back of her head positioned where Bryce, Alder and Tolwyn could see it, she moved her silver hair aside and uncovered her right ear. Bryce was startled as Mara revealed two metal slots beneath the lobe. There were small chips in the slots, reminding Bryce of miniature computer disks in drive units. Mara pulled one chip out, showed it to the three, and replaced it to demonstrate more precisely what the slots were. She turned in her seat to again face them, letting her hair fall back into place.
"Enhancement chips," she explained. Then she began her story.
Mara told them about her own social and career advancement thanks to personal ability and wonder drugs. She told them about Kadandra and her discovery of the cosmverse. Then she told them about the coming of the Sims and the terrible battle that followed. Finally, she told them about her discovery of Earth and her trip to make amends for the terrible events she had caused. "But you defeated the invaders,"
Tolwyn stated after Mara had finished speaking, grasping at one of the few facts of the narrative to which she could relate and understand.
"Yes, with our technology, our science. We pulled down their bridges and cut off their connections to their home cosm. Then we mopped them up. But millions of my people died."
"But you won," persisted Tolwyn.
"Yes, but at what cost?"
"What is the cost of losing?" asked Tolwyn.
"The war wouldn't have happened if it were not for me, and there would have been no price to pay."
"I can't believe that," said Alder. "Just because you discovered something doesn't mean you caused it to come into existence. Did you ever think that these invaders were already on their way to your world, and you saw them just in time to do something about them?"
"But I also led them here!"
Bryce watched as the young woman who called herself Dr. Hachi Mara-Two lowered her head and sobbed. He wasn't sure just what he believed yet, but he knew that there was no reason someone so young should be carrying around the guilt of the world — make that worlds.
"Mara," Bryce said softly, "none of this is your fault. I won't let you beat yourself up over something you had no control over."
The young woman looked up at the priest, and he saw the weight of a dozen lifetimes reflected in her eyes. Then she spoke. "You may be right, Chris. But then again, you may be wrong. And until I know for sure, the responsibility remains mine."
85
In Sacramento, California, Kerr Naru sat in contented contemplation, watching the warriors rock tri-
umphantly after the long battle to secure the pure zone. Lanala had truly blessed the edeinos! he thought happily. And he, as an optant, was doubly blessed.
He leaned back on his tail, letting the wind and rain wash over his scaled body. The sensations were wonderful! And his warriors had brought such experiences to the people of this world! Maybe now they would reject their dead existences and join the edeinos in life.
A udatok roared nearby, and many of the warriors came out of their reverie to glance up at the maelstrom bridge that arched above them. Kerr Naru followed their gazes. Something was shambling down the bridge, pushing its way through the overgrowth at a rapid pace.
"Baruk Kaah!" one of the warriors called out.
"And Rec Pakken!" another yelled, and a shudder passed through the crowd.
"Rec Pakken," Kerr Naru thought. "The Saar brings his darkness device to the realm, and the edeinos back away like frightened trekids."
But he supposed they had a right to be afraid, because the shudder affected him as well. After all, Rec Pakken was a dead thing, and edeinos could not abide items devoid of the spark of life. Except for the gotaks, of course, those edeinos who Baruk Kaah had appointed as priests of the dead.
Now Kerr Naru could see it, crawling down the bridge like some giant black spider. Rec Pakken was a third of a mile across, a mobile forest formed from a single black, stone tree. Roots sprung from the bottom and sides of the moving forest, acting as legs to propell the darkness device across the jungle expanse. It was terrible to behold, and an abomination to Lanala besides.
Perhaps he should speak out against Baruk Kaah and his habit of using dead things, Kerr Naru considered. He knew that Lanala was not pleased with the actions of her First Lover, that many of the edeinos were upset by the new ways Baruk Kaah had introduced. If they joined together .
Rec Pakken scuttled closer, and Kerr Naru could see its branches of night as they swayed. What could they do against the power of the dead? he wondered to himself.
One of the gotaks stepped beside him. The priest of the dead raised a clawed fist into the sky, praising, "Hail Baruk Kaah, Saar of the edeinos, High Lord of Takta Ker! Hail Rec Pakken, who has shown the people experiences we never dreamed of!"
Others picked up the chant, and soon the crowd was singing to the High Lord and to his darkness device, with only cursory nods to Lanala. The scene sickened the optant. Still, one voice would not change anything. Kerr Naru looked away from the approaching forest, but his voice raised to join the chant.
"Hail Baruk Kaah," he sang. "Hail Rec Pakken!"
Kurst adjusted the denim jacket he wore, trying to fit into the grooves its prior owner had acheived after long months of wear. He didn't succeed. It was too large for his frame, and it had an air of comfortableness that the clothes of his world did not. In short, its very comfort made him uncomfortable. Still, he would keep the jacket, he decided. He had gone to some small degree of trouble to acquire it, and its prior owner would have no further use for it, anyway.
He hated entering a new cosm without preparation. The Gaunt Man provided him with the language of the world — actually, of the diale
ct prevalent in the area he was going — but had no time to provide him with the social conventions. Kurst would make do, however. He always did.
So this was Philadelphia, Kurst mused. He could sense the tradition of the place, the spirit. The very essence of the world was prevalent in the city. It reeked of concepts that were alien to the hunter; freedom, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. Yes, these ideals were spoken of in Orrorsh, and some of the cattle even believed they were living them. But it was all an illusion, propagated and controlled by his master, the Gaunt Man. Here it was different, though. What were cold, empty words in his cosm were living, vibrant truths here. For some reason, that disturbed the hunter. He didn't know why it should make a difference, but it did.
He let his internal discussion lapse when he found the hospital. It was where the Gaunt Man had placed it, and the scent of stormers was strong in the air. He stood before the building, looking up at the letters that identified it. Yes, he thought, this was where the one named Dr. Hachi arrived. He took a deep breath, letting her smell fill his senses. She smelled of technology and youth, almost a sweeter version of Thratchen, and her scent tingled with power and possibilities. The image the Gaunt Man had given him was good, but now he had her true scent, and there was nowhere she could hide from him.
He entered the building, easily moving through the confused corridors. Something violent had taken place here recently, he noted, but he had no time to investigate further. He let the doctors and other hospital staff work undisturbed as he proceeded toward the room the Gaunt Man had shown him.
The floor was a jumble of activity. It seemed that whatever had occurred was focused around the storm-ers. That worried Kurst. He didn't want his mission jeopardized by events he had no control over. He sniffed the air, following Dr. Hachi's own trail through the hospital. In the hall outside the room, orderlies were cleaning blood from the walls and floor. The door to the room was demolished, exploded by something too impatient to use the doorknob.
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