City of Illusions

by Kim ten Tusscher

  Siard opened the door carefully and peered into the hallway. When he saw the last worker disappearing around a corner, he motioned for the other two to follow him. They quickly crossed the hallway and went through a door a little farther on. They continued deeper and deeper into the building, and though occasionally they saw other people, each time they had quickly found a place to hide. They did not want to engage anyone as the chance that they would be discovered would become too great.

  As they continued on, they saw fewer people. The power plant appeared to work without much supervision, and Ward had not expected the fugitives to come back into the building. The workers were not forewarned of the intruders, so Elion, Lumea and Siard had little trouble reaching the central part of the building. The same loud noise that they had heard in the place where the cables met the wall could be heard here, so they knew they were close to reaching their destination.

  The last obstacle that they met was a door which only opened via a hand-scanner, and for a moment they were unsure of what to do. Not even Siard would be able to force open this lock. Luck was on their side, though, because the door slid open and a worker stepped out, not expecting the fate that lay in store for him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the three intruders. Elion quickly knocked the man unconscious while Siard held the door open. They stepped inside, and the elf dragged the unconscious worker behind him. Then they stopped dead, and Elion let go of the man, whose head banged against the floor. The door closed behind them.

  The three of them could not believe their eyes as they stared around the room. In the middle of it there was a conical object, shaped like a volcano. Instead of spewing lava, however, this volcano emitted pulsating waves of light-blue energy. Above it, there was a sphere bobbing up and down, seemingly suspended by the waves of intense light. It was so bright that it was impossible to determine the materials from which it was made. From the sphere, numerous cables snaked out in every direction. Their eyes automatically followed the cables to their termination point, and Elion began to shake. Lumea put a comforting arm around him.

  Against the walls, there were dozens of reclined couches, and within them, horribly, lay creatures. The beings were so weak and emaciated that one could count their ribs, and their arms and legs were like brittle sticks. Their skin had no color at all. Their eyes had sunk deeply into their sockets, but in them, Lumea clearly could see pain and fear. It was almost unbelievable that these beings could survive this ordeal, but their chests rose and fell with each labored breath. The creatures were so thin that it was hard to tell their gender, but one thing was obvious from their ears: they were elves.

  At first, Elion remained quiet, silently staring at the chairs in abhorrence. Then he screamed in desperation, “Stop it! Stop talking to me! I was hoping that you were nothing more than a nightmare, but you’re real! You’re real! What do you want from me? I can hear your words, they’re filling my ears, begging me. What do you want?!”

  Elion pressed his hands against his ears in an attempt to shut out the voices in his head. He fell to his knees, unable to watch his brethren in this condition. He felt as though his whole world was being destroyed. The look he directed at Lumea broke her heart.

  Elion whispered, “Why is this happening? I saw bodies during the war, dead elves and men, some of them horribly mutilated. It hurt me deeply, but at least they died for a cause they believed in. To some extent, that justified what had happened to all of those victims. It made the pain I knew as a boy just a bit more bearable.”

  Lumea sank down next to him. She had trouble keeping her own tears at bay. From the dreams, she had heard the elves’ voices, too. She shared Elion’s pain, holding him firmly, but she had no words with which to soothe him. She listened to his whispered words, but when he looked at her, she was deeply moved by the hurt she could see in his eyes.

  Elion continued, “This is different, Lumea. These elves came to Hydrhaga without any suspicions, hoping for a better future. Instead of an easy life, they were connected to infernal machines and sucked dry of their ancient powers, which are woven together to form that terrible wall around Hydrhaga.”

  Elion’s blood felt like acid burning in his veins. His fury had no valve which which to escape, and it turned inward, paralyzing him. He felt pain in every cell of his body and his muscles contracted. It felt as if all of the emotions he had hidden away through his long life were finally bursting out at one time.

  The first thing Siard did when he recovered from his own horror was to walk over to the control panel and figure out how it worked. His eyes scanned over the various controls, and after few moments he went back to the others. Lumea helped Elion to stand, but his muscles were still tense, his fists balled tight, and he stared at the floor.

  “You can end this abomination, Elion,” Siard said. “Just one push of a button, and you free these elves from their suffering.”

  Elion looked up with empty eyes. “Then they will die...”

  Lumea, still holding the elf tightly, whispered, “They died a long time ago, Elion, but someone stopped them from going peacefully and without pain. You can help them. You have to.”

  Lumea stroked his cheek and her fingers grew wet from his streaming tears. The elf was unsure how to handle the burden that had been placed upon his shoulders. On the one hand, he wanted to stop the voices in his head and end their suffering, but how could he kill his own kind?

  “If we tear down their wall, the soldiers will know where we are,” Elion said.

  “And if we don’t, we’ll remain undetected? That’s an illusion. Sooner or later they will know we’re here anyway. The time to act has come. Isn’t this what we came here for? We’ll see what happens afterward. At least, if we die, we will die with honor.” Lumea’s tone of voice was determined. The events that were unfolding had nothing to do with her, and yet she was prepared to die for these miserable, trapped elves. She had her doubts earlier, but upon entering this room it had become obvious to her that Elion and Siard’s suspicions against Hydrhaga were well-founded.

  “She’s right, Elion,” Siard said quietly.

  The two of them led Elion to the control panel. Siard took Elion’s hand and put it on the button that would end the suffering of captured elves. Then, they waited in silence for Elion to make his decision. They feared the consequences, but at the same time they were prepared to face them.

  Elion felt the burden on his shoulders. Who was he to decide the elves’ fate? Where could he find the courage to stop the machine, end their lives and put the three of them in danger? Ultimately, he knew that Lumea was right. He pressed down upon the button decisively, afraid that he would lose his nerve if he waited any longer.

  He listened to the sounds of the machinery in the room die away. When all was quiet, the voices grew calm. They thanked Elion for releasing them. He went around the room quietly, saying goodbye to the elves in as dignified a fashion as he could. As they died, they seemed to regain a portion of their former beauty. He closed their eyes and disconnected the cables from their bodies, and as each elf passed Elion became more serene. He stood still for a little longer next to some of them. Lumea wondered if he had known them in his childhood.

  After his tour around the room, Elion turned to the two waiting humans. He saw the pain and compassion in their eyes, and he tried to nod encouragingly. He walked over to Siard and gave him an awkward hug, unsure how he felt about the man. The hug he gave to Lumea, though, held far more sincerity. He felt that she understood him better than anyone else ever had, possibly including himself, and he was glad that she was with them. She had no part of all this mess.

  “We have to go,” Elion said. He appeared as calm as one of Hydrhaga’s lakes on a windless day. “The soldiers will be here any minute now, and they’ll be expecting us. We might possibly be able to surprise them if we turn up somewhere else.”

  With their weapons in hand, they ran into the hallway.

  15

  The Hosts were worried when they had t
o inform their leader about the problems they were facing. They were terrified of his reaction, as well they should be. He came striding into the room, livid with rage. Gîsal was a distinguished-looking man, not in the least because of his height, which enabled him to look down upon practically everyone. Around his shoulders he wore a heavy, velvet cape which swept down to the floor, and it was such a deep black that it offset his light skin and made him seem even more pale than he really was. His long black hair, bound up in a ponytail, was starting to turn gray here and there, and his face was lined with deep wrinkles.

  “How in the name of all the gods did three people—two of which, I might add, were behaving suspiciously—manage to escape? How were they not captured in the tunnels? They cannot have possibly left Hydrhaga, but whom do I see before me? Surely, not them! Only a bunch of layabouts, who have trouble managing even the simplest of tasks!”

  The tension in the room was palpable. Ward sat quietly in a corner, hoping that nobody would pay any attention to him. In vain, as it turned out, as Gîsal turned around to face him.

  “And you! You’re the worst of the lot! You have been weak. Instead of preventing all of this, you practically showed them the way! You failed to ensure that the man and the woman were both immersed in the Hydrhaga way of life, even when there were clear indications that they could pose a threat. You had your orders, and you failed to follow them.”

  With Ward carrying the brunt of the leader’s rage, the Hosts smirked at each other, relieved that the force of Gîsal’s anger was directed at Ward and not themselves. Ward had not been able to hide the fact that he had suspected an intruder in the archive, and that he had ignored his instincts. Also, he had revealed much to the woman, but only because she was interested, and she seemed to believe the stories. How could he have known that she would cause so many problems?

  “Let me fix this,” Ward said. “Let me lead the Swintheri in the chase, and I will make sure the three of them are brought before you.”

  Ward had always looked down upon the troops, so he had to swallow his pride to work with them now. He would much rather stay in the safe and comfortable rooms provided for the Hosts, but he had his reputation to salvage. Gîsal accepted the offer.

  Ward thought long and hard about how the three fugitives could have escaped from the Swintheri. In the end, he decided that the three must have traveled only at night, for it was the only way that they could have given their pursuers the slip. From the cave’s exit, the fugitives could have gone any direction, but Ward’s estimation was that they had made for the woods.

  A quick search of the forest’s edge soon revealed their tracks near a willow tree. The Swintheri wanted to go after them immediately, but Ward stopped them. The three runaways would have too much of a lead by now, and besides, they could not stay on the run forever. None of the monitors had registered anyone touching the wall, so either they were lost or they knew about Hydrhaga’s protective barrier. Ward guessed the latter was true. He refused to underestimate his opponents again.

  Deciding what to do with this knowledge was easy. If the three fugitives had found the wall, sooner or later they would reach the power cables, and from there the power plant, which was certainly to be of interest to them. The next logical step was to lead his Swintheri to the plant and wait for the unwanted guests. They would be trapped and he would rise in the esteem of the other Hosts. Ward was pleased with himself, because Gîsal would have no choice but to praise him. He could hardly wait for that moment; he looked forward to it with all his heart.

  When days went by without a sign of the runaways, Ward started to lose patience. The fugitives were taking their time, though he did not doubt for one moment that they would come his way eventually. As more time passed, however, the angrier the Host became. He had put much of his reputation at stake. Throughout his life he had been the odd man out and had been pestered for not fitting in. Ward had hoped to get away from all of that by coming to Hydrhaga, but even here he had to constantly prove himself. The other Hosts had found in him an easy victim to bully, just like their leader bullied them in turn.

  Gîsal was subject to severe mood swings. Nobody knew where they originated, though quite likely it had to do with the pressures he felt to complete the Thuranc in time. Lately, he had even become physically aggressive.

  The Hosts took the opportunity to blame Ward for this change in Gîsal’s mood, and they had made his life even more difficult. What little reputation he had left was destroyed when the three guests had escaped. He amused himself by imagining what he would do to them when he finally managed to get his hands on them, and what his life would look like after his honor was restored. No one would ever have the guts to laugh at him again.

  Lost deep in thought like this, it took a moment for him to register that something was wrong. He could no longer hear the ever-present sound of the power plant. He jumped up when he realized that the three intruders were in the building already and had stopped the machine. He ran towards the central hall, hoping that he would be quick enough to start the machine up again. Hydrhaga’s wall must not fall! He ordered all the Swintheri he met to follow him.

  “Follow me! They are here already, don’t let them get away again!” he yelled as he quickened his pace.

  The soldiers drew their swords and hurried after him as he ran through the corridors.

  They met the three intruders close to the core. Ward stopped in his tracks, surprised to finally be face to face with them. He then yelled at the soldiers to get them while he hurried on into the core and to the control panel. With barely suppressed panic he pressed this and regulated that, hoping to restore power to the wall, but it was useless. When he realized that all hope was lost, that the elves were dead and the wall hopelessly beyond repair, he sank down to the floor, where Elion had been sitting earlier.

  It did not matter now whether or not the the intruders were caught, for he had failed. None of the other Hosts would ever look him in the eye again and Gîsal would be angrier than ever. He would be lucky to be demoted to the rank of drone, but somehow he knew that Gîsal would have a very different fate in store for him. He would rather die than face that, so he jumped up and rushed out to join the fray that was already underway in the hall.

  Elion, Lumea and Siard did not get far before meeting the soldiers. They were just as surprised to see Ward as he was to see them, but the Swintheri attacked the three of them immediately. Lumea and Siard fought side by side, while Elion tried to get some space between himself and the attackers so that he could take better aim with his bow. At first, the number of opponents was small enough that the fugitives could easily handle them, but soon other Swintheri came to investigate the commotion, and they were rapidly outnumbered. The three were beset from all sides.

  The door opened again and Ward stood before Lumea. He spit into his hand, pushed back the hair that fell into his eyes, and lunged into the fray, straight at the young woman he was sure had been the source of his downfall. Lumea fought against him with bravery, but the man was larger and stronger, and on top of that he was possessed by monstrous motivation. With one inexorable sweep of his sword he knocked her own sword from her hands, and the weapon clattered out of her reach. Though Siard was too far away to help her, he screamed at Elion. With one look the elf knew Lumea was about to become the victim of Ward’s hunger for revenge. In one smooth motion he nocked, aimed and released his arrow, gravely wounding the Host.

  The soldiers hesitated when they saw their leader fall. In that one lull in the fight, Lumea jumped up and hit the closest Swintheri. The fight continued, and the woman dodged the attacks and kicked out at her opponents. She turned and jumped without ceasing, and her red skirt swirled out around her, making it hard to judge who her next victim would be. She made good use of the confusion that she provoked.

  She seemed to be performing a fiery dance as she ducked, jumped around, and even leaped over her opponents. She knocked the soldiers off balance before finishing them off with a punch or
kick. Siard finally reached her and the soldiers that tried to get behind her were slain by him. In the meantime, Elion’s arrows made sure that no more soldiers could engage them so that the two fighters could move in the direction of the door.

  He waited for them there, picking off one enemy after another so that Lumea and Siard could escape. As soon as he was able, he followed them, and the room in which they found themselves there were three doors. Making use of the confusion of the fight, they managed to slip away from their opponents. Elion had picked up Lumea’s sword, and he returned it to her now. They chose a door at random, then moved through a welter of different rooms and corridors, hoping to stay out of the Swintheri’s hands.

  After some time, they managed to reach an exit. The soldiers that should have been standing guard were instead gambling away their money in a game of cards. An elderly guard hit the table with his fist when the youngest soldier laid down his cards, making it obvious that the younger one had won the game via bluff. The other guards, already out of the game, laughed loudly.

  As one of them gathered the cards together, the three intruders rushed in. The guards were completely taken by surprise. They had not been notified of the fight in the core, and now they were suddenly face-to-face with the three fighters. One man had the presence of mind to reach for his weapon, but Lumea was quicker and, in one fell swing, chopped off his arm. Shocked, he looked from the arm to her, but Lumea knew no mercy.