33
In the town that surrounded Salisbury Manor, in the shadows of a dingy alley, a group of young roughs joked among themselves. Their leader, an older teen, punched one of the boys in the stomach, then laughed uproariously as the boy doubled over in pain.
"Good one, Cutter!" another boy proclaimed, clapping the leader on the shoulder.
"Look at Snipe cough!" still another observed. "Look, he's turning blue!"
"If you thought that was funny, watch this," interrupted a new voice.
Cutter, the roughs' leader, didn't recognize the voice. He spun to see who had dared disturb their hideout. He barely made it all the way around when a fist caught him in the jaw and sent him flying into the wall of the alley.
The rough slid down the wall, barely conscious. No laughs accompanied this sight, however. Instead, the boys fell deathly silent. They all turned to see who had dared strike Cutter. They gasped.
Standing at the mouth of the alley was a large demonkind. He looked something like a ravagon, but more man-like. However, he wore a black leather tunic, and metal made up parts of his body. In particular, the boys could see that the demon's right arm was metal, as were large sections of his wings.
"You'll die for that," Cutter said through lips that were already swelling. "You don't know who you're dealing with."
"Obviously," the techno-demon said, "neither do you."
The roughs started to shift then, revealing their werecreature natures. The leader transformed into a werewolf, exposing sharp claws and pointed teeth. The other boys took on the shape of wererats. They chattered excitedly at the prospect of feasting on the demonkind. One, a little more impatient than the others, leaped across the alley, his fangs bared to deliver a deadly strike.
He never made it.
The techno-demon splayed his metal hand and claws shot out of each finger. He slashed at the wererat, cutting the creature almost completely in half. Both portions thudded to the ground, forming a steaming mess.
"Silver," the demon assured them, shaking blood and flesh from his claws.
The werewolf roared at the sight of his pack member so easily dispatched. He launched himself at the demon, coming at him from the left in order to avoid the silver claws. But the demon was fast, and very strong. He gripped the werewolf around the neck with his natural hand, pinning him to the wall.
"Unless you want to watch me gut your entire pack, Cutter, I suggest you listen to me," the demon said, waving his silver claws before the werewolf's eyes. "I am Thratchen, and I am Lord Salisbury's regent. That makes my word law in Orrorsh. Do you understand?"
The werewolf nodded, never taking his eyes off of the claws.
"You met another werewolf a few days ago," Thratchen continued. "You called him something else though, and refused to battle him. Tell me about that."
"You mean the dire wolf," Cutter said.' "I never saw a dire wolf before, but I remember the legends."
"Tell me about the legends," Thratchen urged, squeezing the werewolf's neck a little harder.
"Not much to tell. Dire wolves are big werebeasts, very powerful. They used to lead the other werecreatures, keeping peace between the races. That's all I know."
Thratchen stared at the rough, finally deciding that he was too afraid not to be honest. If there was more to learn, he would have to look elsewhere. He released the werewolf, turning away before the beast even hit the floor.
"Behave yourself, Cutter," Thratchen warned as he departed. "And keep your pack in line. You wouldn't want me to come back here."
Cutter shifted back into human form, rubbing his sore neck to ease the pain. "That's for sure," he muttered, watching the demonkind exit the alley. When he was certain the one called Thratchen had left, he slapped one of the younger boys hard across the face.
"Don't just stand there," Cutter growled, motioning toward the dead wererat, "clean up that mess."
34
Teth-Net entered the newly-completed Royal Palace, making his way through the pillared corridors toward the throne room. He was the Royal Marshall of the Nile Empire, military advisor of Pharaoh Mobius. He was a quiet man, more comfortable on the battlefield than in the richly-appointed chambers of the Pharaoh. There were times, however, when his own comfort had to take a back seat to the needs of the empire.
Music greeted the Royal Marshall as the court guards opened the great stone doors to the throne room. It was a sensuous tune, reminding Teth-Net of the pleasure houses run by the gangsters in Cairo.
"Come in, Teth-Net," a muffled voice ordered. It was a voice that the Royal Marshall knew well. It was the voice of Mobius.
The Pharaoh was seated upon his ornate throne, wearing the brown hood that obscured his features and marked his origin as a villain in their home cosm of Terra. Here, though, his other heritage took center stage. Here Mobius was Pharaoh of the Tenth Empire of Egypt, ruler of all he surveyed.
Teth-Net entered, taking in the details of the room as he strode toward the throne. There was no band playing; instead the music issued forth from a record player. The Pharaoh's Royal Escort, the lovely Clemeta, danced provocatively before Mobius, mixing an ancient ceremonial dance with the modern movements associated with jazz. The effect, he had to admit, was breathtaking.
"Isn't she exquisite, Teth-Net?" Mobius asked. "I especially like the way she moves her hands."
The Royal Marshall agreed. He stood and watched the woman dance for long minutes before Mobius broke the spell she weaved out of sound and motion.
"She is hard to resist, Teth, but I'm sure you came here for some other reason," Mobius said, the barest hint of amusement in his tone.
"Of course, Pharaoh. I didn't want to disturb your relaxation."
"Speak," Mobius commanded. "I can listen to you while I watch Clemeta."
The Royal Marshall nodded, then began to update the Pharaoh on the course of the wars of conquest. Ethiopia, Israel, Libya, Sudan — these were the spots of major conflict. Teth-Net described the situation in each area.
"To conclude, Pharaoh, we are making marked progress on all of our fronts," Teth-Net finished.
"Very good, Teth, but not good enough," Mobius declared. "I can't worry about these wars when so many other matters require my attention. Go back to your soldiers and end these battles. That is all."
Dismissed, Teth-Net bowed and started across the room. The woman danced around him as he walked, trailing her silken scarf over his naked chest. He ignored her, continuing forward to carry out the Pharaoh's
orders. But while he showed no visible signs of discomfort, his mind plagued him with images of her curves, and the touch of her silk.
Even after he had exited, the smell of her perfume stayed with him for a long, long time.
35
Decker and Kurst stood beside their jeep, watching the dying wall of flame. Quin Sebastian and Tal Tu had left about an hour ago, traveling by helicopter toward the forest to the south to find and destroy a stelae. Decker wished them luck.
"Paragon and Julie are coming with us," Decker told Kurst. "Both of them volunteered, and neither of them would take no for an answer."
"I know," replied Kurst. "In their own ways, each is as stubborn as you or me."
"What will we find out there?" Decker asked.
Kurst shrugged. "You've been through the shifting reality within a storm front, and you've seen some of the creatures of the Living Land. The maelstrom bridge will be difficult for you, and Takta Ker itself is a hot, steamy place. If we make it through that, then there's one more bridge and we'll be in Aysle."
"Will we catch up with the others in time?"
"It's hard to say," Kurst answered. "They have a longer trip, since none of them knows how to travel from cosm to cosm via the bridges. We should reach them before the battle is finished."
Paragon and Julie stepped out of the command tent. They carried packs full of last minute supplies. As they piled them into the jeep, Kurst shook his head.
"We should only take as
much as we can carry," the hunter said. "We will abandon the jeep as soon as we
reach the bridgehead."
"Until then, we might wind up needing some of this stuff," Julie said.
Decker checked the packs. "Did you bring the explosives?"
"Would I forget the explosives?" Julie mocked him. "Of course I brought them. The timer and detonator, too."
Covent approached, pulling his own jeep to a stop beside them. "Good luck, Ace," he called.
Decker walked over to the major and grasped his hand. "You too, Charlie," he said. "Hang in there and we'll win this one yet." Then Decker turned serious. "Promise me something, Charlie."
"Whatever you want, Ace," Covent assured him.
"When you're done here you've got to go back to Twentynine Palms and make sure Rat and Coyote are all right."
"You don't need to ask something like that, Ace," Covent said. "I was planning to do that the first chance I got as soon as Sebastian said it. I don't know them as well as you, but they seemed like good kids when I met them."
"Thanks, Charlie," Decker said.
"Here they come again!" a soldier from a nearby observation point called out.
Sure enough, the gospog were charging out of the dying flames, and hordes of dinosaurs and lizard men were behind them.
"This is it, Covent," Decker said as he jumped into the back of the jeep.
"Let's show those lizards how to conduct a real war!" Covent yelled to them as he drove off.
"Punch it!" Decker commanded, and Julie hit the gas, propelling the jeep forward. He gripped the handles of the heavy machinegun, but decided to hold fire until absolutely necessary. Once they crossed the storm front, they would only have the ammunition they were carrying. Decker didn't want to run short before they had even progressed a few miles.
The jeep cut across the open field quickly, and then the wall of flame was ahead of them. If they didn't get shot by friendly fire, and if they didn't get incinerated, then maybe they would have a chance at this wild stunt.
"Look out," Paragon shouted.
Ahead of them, emerging from the fire, were a handful of gospog. Decker studied their plantlike bodies by the light of the flames, noting how human they also looked. The gospog raised the guns they carried, doing their best to take aim. Decker squeezed off a quick burst of his own, and four of the creatures went down in a spray of explosive shells. Julie rammed the other two, and the jeep thudded over the falling forms.
"Duck!" Julie yelled out, not even slowing as she drove the jeep through the flames.
Everything got very hot and very bright for a few long seconds, then the jeep was through. Before Decker could ask if everyone was all right, they were engulfed by the cold, beating rain of the storm front. Immediately, Decker's earlier trip through the nightmare region came back to him. He remembered how his driver, a marine private named Rider, had died piloting his vehicle through the alien landscape.
"Julie!" Decker screamed, but the wind and rain ripped his voice away as soon as it emerged from his mouth. Water soaked his clothes and filled his eyes, and it took everything he had to hang onto the mounted gun. The jeep bounced, but it kept on moving. Decker prayed
it was because Julie was all right.
He never noticed the gospog.
It climbed up from underneath the vehicle, from the spot it had been caught on when the jeep ran over it. It moved slowly, climbing with only its legs and one arm to help it. The other arm had been lost, torn off when it had been hit by the jeep. It grabbed Decker, capturing his neck in the crux of its remaining arm. Then it squeezed.
God it was strong! Decker thought. Already he could feel his windpipe closing shut. The arm smelled of roots and rotting flesh, and dirt filled his mouth as he struggled for air. He held on to the machinegun as he threw himself from side to side, but the gospog continued to strangle him. Lightning flashed, and he heard the thunderous crack of opening ground somewhere near the vehicle. The jeep jerked to the right, and Decker almost lost his grip. Had he, he would have been thrown from the jeep and left alone in the nightmare region. He hoped that death would be quick if that occurred, and he wondered how Paragon had managed to walk through the storm.
Once the jeep was traveling smoothly again, the gospog tightened its stranglehold. Decker felt himself slipping away as unconsciousness descended. Then the gospog was pulled off of him. He opened his eyes, fighting to see through the pelting rain. There was Kurst, in werewolf form, struggling with the gospog. The battle did not last long. With a mighty heave, Kurst tossed the creature into the storm. Then he grabbed hold of the machinegun, and he and Decker held on as the jeep raced on through the shifting landscape.
36
Christopher Bryce stood against the railing of the steam ship, watching as they drew closer to the docks of Singapore. Tolwyn was beside him. She held her crys flower cupped gently in her hands, examining the intricate patterns of red and blue color that weaved throughout its odd-shaped petals. He remembered when he first saw the flower, how it appeared against the stark metal of the operating table when Wendy Miller — Tolwyn — returned to life.
"It is still alive, Christopher," Tolwyn said, showing him the flower. After all these weeks, it still looked fresh, its colors still vibrant.
"I think if s a special flower, Tolwyn," he said honestly. "It means something. What do you remember about it?"
"Very little," she admitted. "Not all of my memories are complete as yet. I remember running through fields of these flowers when I was a little girl, and I remember fighting Uthorion's invaders in another field. Maybe it was the same field. I do not know. They trampled the flowers. They had no regard for their beauty, for their meaning."
"What meaning?" Bryce asked, but Tolwyn's face showed hints of frustration.
"I do not know," she said. "The blood was terrible, though. They cut a path through the defenders of the Valley of the Sword, and pellets of rich, red blood splattered the crys flowers. The red mixed with the crimson hues of the petals, just as it showed clearly against the blue."
"Easy, Tolwyn, don't let the images upset you."
She turned to him, her eyes begging for help, for understanding. "How can Ardinay still live, Christopher?" she asked. "How could Aysle become the dark place the dwarves have described if the Lady of Light won the day? And more, how come Uthorion is
still in the land?"
Bryce shook his head sadly. He had no answers for the warrior, no words of wisdom to make everything better. He had only his presence and support, and, yes, his love, for he did so love the woman from Aysle. But it was a love he could never consummate, so he settled for her friendship, and he freely gave her his.
37
Mara sat alone, her tools spread before her, her data plate in her hand. Thratchen's gift rested nearby, once again secure within its wooden box. As she worked and planned, the dwarves wandered over.
"Mara, you should have seen it!" Toolpin exclaimed. "They've figured out things to do with steam that not even the great dwarven scientist Delvur could imagine!"
"Oh, they're clever, all right," Gutterby growled, "but let's not go giving these humans too much credit. By the Missing Makers, the steam engine isn't that good."
"Gutterby's .right," Pluppa agreed. "Give us a few days and the proper tools and we'd have this vessel humming like a dwarven mine cart!"
Toolpin scowled. "Now mind you that I haven't been in the dwarven lands for a good many years, but as I recall the mine carts made a terribly awful racket."
Pluppa whacked him on the head with her battle spike. "Mind your elders, Toolpin, or I'll make sure you get to see the mines for a good long time!"
"What are you doing, child?" Grim asked, noticing the tools laid out around Mara.
She hesitated, not sure they would understand. Grim seemed to sense her reluctance, and he motioned for Pluppa to speak to her.
"Now don't get like that on us, girl," the female dwarf scolded. "If you don't want to tell us your busine
ss, that's one thing. But if you deem us too stupid to understand your fancy science, well that's another thing. Just remember, we can take an airplane engine apart and put it back together again."
"Yeah," Toolpin added indignantly, "and sometimes it even works."
"Be that as it may," Pluppa continued after giving the young dwarf another whack on the head, "we may be able to help you."
"We do see things from a different perspective, after all," Grim finished.
Mara smiled at the quartet. They were right, she thought, and talking through the process might give her an idea or two.
"This is a virtual reality plate," she said, holding up a credit card sized object. "If I plug it into this slot behind my ear, it lets me experience the memories of my world in vivid detail."
The dwarves made appreciative, awe-filled noises, and Toolpin tentatively touched the twin slots leading to Mara's built-in computers.
"So what's the problem?" Gutterby asked.
"I want to create a process that will let someone experience the sensover memories without the aid of an interface plug or any cyber enhancements," she said, keeping the fact that it was to be a gift for Djil to herself for the time being.
"What's this?" Grim asked, lifting up a small pack. It was about the size of the data plate, but it was thicker, and one side had a series of short, thin prongs protruding from it.
"Be careful with that. That's a jaz pack," Mara said.
"The stuff's illegal in Kadandra, but during the war soldiers were supplied with it in case of emergencies. I did some experiments with the stuff, but never on myself. I brought it with me — just in case."
"What's jaz?" Pluppa asked.
"It's a drug that turns living tissue into a conductive circuit. It makes synthetic nerve fiber and other cyber implants unnecessary, but it can cause psychosis with prolonged use."
Mara reached for a tool with her left hand, then remembered it no longer existed. "Triple damn!" she cursed. "How can I do this kind of work without two hands?"
Her eyes went automatically to the wooden box resting beside her. She looked at it longingly, then turned her head away, launching into a theoretical discussion with the dwarves.
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