torg 02 - The Dark Realm

by Douglas Kaufman

  Kurst watched as the captain produced a pipe from his jacket pocket. So the fool had come out into the cold to smoke, the hunter mocked silently. Kurst sensed something then, an intense sensation that screamed for him to shift to wolf form. But he held the urge in check, refusing to succumb to his animal instincts if he could help it. After all, shapeshifting outside of Orrorsh, even for one such as he, was not without risk. He tried to focus on the unseen danger, but nothing revealed itself. He again turned to watch Albury, who was now puffing contentedly on his pipe.

  Was that a movement off to Albury's right? Kurst wondered. Or were his senses playing tricks on him in the cold, snowy night? Kurst stepped out of the darkness into the light cast by the small bulb over the building's entrance. Albury looked up at him, startled. Then the captain smiled.

  "I was wondering where you disappeared to, Mr. Kurst," Alburysaid. "Come out for a bit of air, did you?"

  Kurst saw the shadow behind Albury move, but he was too far away to intercept it. Black tendrils snaked out and wrapped around the captain. Where they touched, Kurst saw the flesh dissolve. He smelled the stink of Albury's burning skin. He leaped forward, seeking to release the captain before the creature finished him off. A tendril cracked like a whip across Kurst's arm, searing his flesh and knocking him to the ground. He rolled through the snow, out of the tendril's reach. Albury's screams filled his ears, and he realized that his own were mixed with the captain's.

  Intense beams of light cut through the darkness. Kurst saw Mara standing a few feet away from him, firing her energy weapon at the creature. It dropped off of Albury, a black mass of thin, wispy limbs. She gave it no chance to escape, pumping shot after shot into the black form until it stopped moving. Then, with a burst of flame, the creature was gone.

  Bryce ran past Mara to kneel beside Albury. He examined the man for a moment, then turned his head away. "My God," Bryce said, "what did it do to him?"

  Kurst started to rise, but Mara stopped him with a gentle hand. "Let me look at your arm, Kurst," she said.

  The hunter nodded and ripped away the smouldering cloth of his jacket sleeve. "That was a shaden, Bryce," Kurst explained. "A creature from Orrorsh. Its tendrils are coated with an extremely powerful acid. This allows it to liquify its food so that its main body mass may absorb it."

  "Giga-gross," Mara said as she used snow to cool Kurst's burns. "Is Albury all right?"

  "Albury is dead," Bryce blurted. "His face, his chest, they're ... melted."

  Kurst noticed the crowd that had gathered in the doorway. Tolwyn and Tom were there, as well as the dwarves. "I suggest we go inside," Kurst offered. "Shaden do not hunt alone."

  Bryce helped Mara get Kurst to his feet. "What about Captain Albury?"

  "Leave him," Kurst said. "It will be safer to deal with his remains when dawn breaks and the shaden are not up and around."

  "How do you know they won't be around when the sun rises?" Bryce demanded.

  "Because," Kurst told him fiercely, "the sun's rays burn them just as their acid burned Albury."

  "And how long before dawn arrives?" Bryce asked. "Do you have any idea how long this damned night is going to last?"

  The hunter ignored the priest as something else caught his attention. He wasn't certain, but he thought that the pool of darkness where he had been standing, the one beside the building, moved. Whether the dead creature behind them was the only shaden that had drifted over from Orrorsh or the airstrip was full of them, Kurst knew they didn't have a chance out here in the open. Another movement, and Kurst's senses screamed out their warning cries. "Get us inside, Father Bryce. And make sure all the lights are turned up bright."

  58

  Major Julie Boot felt as if her life was lately defined by three places. The first of these places was the operating chamber, where she and her staff had been tending the wounded for the past twelve hours, ever since the first helicopter had touched down, loaded with casualties from the northern front. The second place was at Andrew Jackson Decker's bedside, where she came to do what little she could for the congressman, usually simply talking and hoping that he would eventually respond. The third place was in Dr. James Monroe's quarters, finding comfort and release in the arms of the talented surgeon.

  She was in with Decker at this time, coming to sit with him since she had neglected him throughout the long bout in surgery. There had been no change in his condition, but she thought she detected a paleness around his eyes. How long could he go on like this? The staves in his chest glowed with a faint blue light that shimmered and crept like tiny snakes around the carved runes. The glow was growing dimmer daily.

  Decker's face was strong, handsome. It was very much like Monroe's face, though older, more seasoned. What were the runes sucking from you, Ace? she wondered. And how long before it was totally sapped?

  It wasn't fair! All the wounded she treated, all the dead she buried — where was the sense of all this? Where was the purpose? And this man, lying in a coma with metal stakes driven into his body ... it made her angry. She could feel the rage inside her, growing in response to her questions. But there was no one to vent

  the rage upon, no single enemy to strike 6ut at.

  She leaned over Decker, her lips almost touching his, staring at his closed eyes.

  "Live, damn it," she whispered fiercely, putting all her anger into the words. "Live."

  Feeling helpless, she turned and strode from the room, leaving a whisper of hospital cloth in her wake. Had she lingered a moment longer, she would have seen the staves begin to glow just a touch brighter. She would have seen Decker's eyelids snap open before they closed again.

  59

  "How very interesting," the Gaunt Man commented as he monitored the instruments on the machine.

  Thratchen, standing beside him, tried to understand what the dials were telling him. But he had no clue as to the workings of this machine. He only knew that it stripped and sorted possibilities from stormers (and anything else containing the precious energy).

  The Gaunt Man looked at Thratchen from the corner of his eye. "You appear confused, Thratchen. Ah, of course! You cannot see what I can see. But I assure you, if you could it would interest you greatly."

  The Gaunt Man stepped around Thratchen and threw a number of switches, craning his neck to watch as energy played across the gridwork of the machine. Satisfied, he again turned to Thratchen.

  "As you know I have been using Decker's possibilities to sort through the possibilities of this world," the High Lord explained. "I need him to show me which to keep and which to use up. That is not a talent that our kind possess. But Decker has it, and even now he is making choices for me."

  "What has that to do with what you saw?" Thratchen asked impatiently.

  "Careful, son of Tharkold. I am not someone you want to become angry with," the Gaunt Man cautioned. "However, I think you will find this tale amusing. You see, Decker is close to being used up. The machine is stripping him faster than his body can replenish the energy. That means we are close to the solution I seek, so I dare not dampen the machine's work. But Decker is such a perfect battery, as it were. I hate to lose him."

  More dials were turned, more switches toggled.

  "Now, however, it appears he will be around long enough to finish the task I have placed before him," the Gaunt Man said. "It appears that another stormer has given him support, helped him slow the process that is eating away his possibilities — helped him heal himself, you see. If she continues to provide him with support, he will continue to do my sorting for me. Isn't that grand?"

  "Ironic, I should think," Thratchen replied.

  "Yes, and I love irony," the Gaunt Man decided. "It leaves such a bitter taste."

  60

  Father Christopher Bryce and Mara helped Kurst into the building. "Shut the door, Tom," Bryce called behind him as he moved Kurst to a chair. Then he turned back to see that the door was firmly closed. The dwarves started talking at once, but the priest ignored them. "Lo
ck it, too."

  Tom did as he was told, securing the bolts that held the door shut. Tolwyn examined Kurst's arm, noted the burns, then looked at the priest.

  "What has happened here, Christopher?" she asked, her hand moving to grip the hilt of her sword.

  "Creatures from Orrorsh," Bryce said. "Kurst calls them shaden. They drip acid."

  "Oh!" shouted the dwarves.

  "They've tasted blood," Kurst explained. "If there are any more of them out there, then we can expect them to try to get at us."

  "You make it sound as if they're intelligent," Bryce protested.

  "In a way, they are."

  "What do you ..."

  But Bryce's question was cut off by a loud thump. They all turned to look at the far window, the window on the dark side of the building. The light from the bulb over the doorway did not reach that far, and the shadows were deep there. At the window, attached like a snail to the side of a fish tank, was a black shape that Bryce figured must be a shaden. It hung on the glass, its tendrils splayed and throbbing, as acid dripped hotly down the pane.

  "Lights, Tom," Bryce shouted, "turn on all the lights!"

  More thumps followed, and the building started to shake as unseen things hammered into it.

  "They're trying to get in!" Mara shouted.

  Tom ran toward a metal box that hung on the wall beside a window. Bryce assumed that the box contained the switches to the exterior lights. As Tom reached the box, he fumbled with the latch that opened it. Faster! Bryce thought. A violent crash sent vibrations throughout the room as something smashed into the side of the building.

  "Hurry," Bryce called out. "Let's get our gear and be ready to head for the airplane. I don't think we want to remain here under these conditions."

  "Be careful, Tom," Braxon called out.

  Bryce turned as the sound of shattering glass filled the room. A black tendril snaked in through the broken window beside the switch box, reaching for Tom. He finally got the box open, but before he could flip the switches the tendril wrapped around his hand.

  Tom's screams were loud inside the building. The shaden's acid was already eating through his glove to get at the tender flesh beneath it. But then Braxon was there, swinging his battle-ax in a tight arc that sliced through the creature's limb. Severed, the tendril fell from Tom's hand and the creature retreated back outside.

  "Hurry, Tom," Braxon urged.

  Using his uninjured hand, Tom flipped all the switches in the box. Outside, the runway lights flared to life, as did the flood lights all along the building. High-pitched squeals sounded in the night. It was the sound of shaden crying.

  "Now what?" Mara asked.

  "Now we head for the plane," Bryce answered as he examined Tom's hand. The acid had burned it badly, but it had not melted through to the bones. "Mara, bandage this up," he said.

  The priest went to the window beside the door and looked outside. It was still snowing, and he could see the large flakes dancing in the pools of light the floods threw across the field. While the runway and the airplane were bathed in bright light, the path between the tarmac and the building was a pattern of dark spots and light. The floods were not situated to provide a continuous, uninterrupted area of light, so shadowy pools rested between each pool of brightness.

  "We will be vulnerable as we move from light to dark," Tolwyn said, appearing at Bryce's side. "We will have to fight our way to the flying machine."

  "And risk more injuries? There must be a better way," the priest demanded.

  "Would you rather stay here and risk all of our deaths?"

  "Hey, look out there!" Toolpin shouted as he pushed between Bryce and Tolwyn.

  Standing beneath the airplane, holding a flaming torch, was a man. The man was dark-skinned, with a patch of white hair. He was wearing furs to protect him from the cold, but he did not appear comfortable in the confining garments.

  "That's Djil!" Toolpin exclaimed.

  Bryce strained to see the man better. Yes, he could be an aborigine. The man walked toward them, stepping off the tarmac and onto the path of light and darkness. But as he took each step, his torch flared brighter, forming a circle of light around the man that banished the shadows as he strode forward. In seconds he was in front of the door.

  "Sorry, I'm late," he said. "Too bad about the poor fellow out there. But we're all alive, and there's still a trip to be made. So let's get on with it. Time for our special walkabout."

  The man did not wait to see if they would agree with him. He turned and made ready to return to the plane. With no other options, Bryce motioned for the group to gather around the strange man. Then, safely bathed in the light of his extraordinarily bright torch, they all walked to the tarmac.

  Bryce expected the shaden to attack as they moved down the path. With every step he expected some dark creature to leap upon them, its limbs dripping acid and its squeal loud and terrifying. But no attack came.

  Tom opened the plane's hatch, and he and the dwarves climbed in. Bryce, Tolwyn, Kurst and Mara waited outside, however, looking over the small black man dressed in furs. He doused his torch in the snow, all the while his eyes were locked on Tolwyn's. Then he smiled, showing white teeth — except where one was missing.

  "I am Djilangulyip," the man said. He drew a long, knotted rope from out of the folds in his furs. "But you can call me Djil."

  "Jill?" Mara asked.

  "Close enough," Djil laughed. He pulled the rope through his strong, callused hands, lingering on each knot in turn. "Tolwyn Tancred," he said, touching the first knot and smiling at the paladin. "Christopher Bryce, Hachi Mara-Two, Kurst," he said, moving over the next three knots and nodding at each of the companions.

  There were two knots left on the end of the rope. Djil touched the fifth knot and his expression saddened. "Andrew Decker," he sighed. "Such pain he must endure. But that is his part in this, his burden." His hand moved to the final knot. "And this is me, Djilangulyip. Now we are ready."

  "Ready for what?" Bryce asked, confused by the proceedings. How could this man know them? The priest didn't understand.

  "Ready to finish the dream," Djil laughed. Then he ushered them onto the plane, out of the snow.

  Out of the night.

  61

  "How long has it been night, Ahkemeses?" Dr. Mobius asked his High Priest. They were standing together atop the monolith constructed beside his as-yet uncompleted palace. The monolith was a mobile structure, great fitted stone blocks atop four huge wheels. Hieroglyphics were carved across the stones, pictures proclaiming the majesty of the Tenth Empire and the greatness of its Pharaoh.

  "We have been without the sun for the past forty- three hours, Pharaoh," Ahkemeses replied. "Already the temperature has dropped to below freezing and the masses grow worried."

  Mobius smiled beneath his cowl. "Good, I want them to worry. I want them to be so frightened that when they see what I can do for them they will fall down and worship me."

  The Pharaoh looked down into the monolith, through the large opening on the top where he stood. He was on the lip of the monolith, looking down into its hollow interior. Within, a great framework of wooden beams and riveted metal formed a resting place for a gigantic golden sphere. The sphere was constructed of riveted metal as well, with a coating of gold that made it sparkle. It was one of Mobius' greatest creations. He smiled proudly.

  "Have there been any further sightings of the Mystery Men?" he asked his High Priest.

  "No, Pharaoh, not since the first incident in Cairo," Ahkemeses said.

  The Pharaoh nodded, pleased. The he turned to the crowd below.

  "Let the people know, Ahkemeses, that their Pharaoh will provide them with light when the darkness falls, with heat when the cold becomes unbearable!" Mobius shouted. "Let the light of Mobius shine across his realm!"

  The monolith began to shake as the great sphere started to roll up the framework tracks. Slowly, it emerged from the top of the monolith, a golden ball against the black of the
sky. But it did not stop there.

  Magno-repulsors of Mobius' own invention lifted the sphere higher into the sky. A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Mobius could feel their excitement and wonder — and their fear.

  "When Muab finishes the Grand Temple of Ra in Luxor, then we shall move the monolith there," Mobius explained to Ahkemeses as the sphere continued to rise. He noted that it did not rise smoothly. There were a few slight jerks and bounces as the repulsors compensated for the weight. "I will have to fix that, Ahkemeses," the Pharaoh noted.