A simulacrum! Mort must have been operating it from somewhere nearby.
The sickening understanding landed on him like a bucket of ice water. The Gate wasn't for something arriving . . . it was for someone to leave! And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him go again!
Aedham ran out of the control room, down the flight of stairs into the lobby, where Sammi was waiting.
"What's happened?" Sammi asked.
"Something attacked Dobie, and it wasn't Llan. He might be hurt. There's a Gate somewhere around here. Where is—"
Of course, I know where it is. In the arena. I've gone through it before!
"Follow me!" Aedham said, running into the weapons room, then the arena; he spied a yellow glow over to the arena's left side, past the center section of the maze. "There. Against the wall."
"He's not bothering to hide it this time," Sammi said, close on his heels. They zigged and zagged, took a wrong turn, then found the passage leading to it.
Mort was standing in front of the Gate, poised to leap through it. He looked back and howled at the sidhe with a long, angry wail, before jumping into the glimmering circle of light.
Aedham turned to Sammi. "Go back to Petrus. Tell him to put the army on full alert and be ready to fight. And wait for a Gate. I'm going after Mort. And don't follow me."
"Don't follow?" Sammi said, looking like she wanted to argue the point. The King plunged into the Gate.
* * *
"Shit!" Sammi screamed at the Gate in frustration, fighting an overwhelming urge to follow the King in despite his command. But orders were orders. Llan and Dobie were somewhere in the arena, and Dobie was hurt.
"There have to be some goddamned cleanup lights in this place!" she muttered at nothing, then started back towards the weapons room.
She met Llan there.
"Where's Dobie?"
"He was upstairs," Llan said, visibly frightened. "Something attacked him. When I got to him, he was gone." Llan was shaking. "Where's the King?" Llan asked.
"Gone back through the Gate," Sammi said. "Told us to get back to the army!"
"But we must go after the King! It might have been a trap!"
"If it was a trap, then we'll all be trapped if we follow, and not much help to rest of Avalon," Sammi replied harshly. "We have to notify Petrus. It looks like there's going to be a war after all."
They turned to go into the arena to see if they could find some clue about Dobie's fate.
* * *
As soon as the beast attacked, it was over. The wolf thing that was Morrigan released his ruined arm and vanished. Dobie flung off the Lazerwarz vest and sat up, feeling the sticky mess of his blood.
An intense yellow light caught his attention. He stood shakily, and peered down at the first level. Below and against the main wall a yellow circle of light big enough to walk through appeared. Then Mort walked into view; he acted like something was after him. Dobie tried to call out, but only a whisper came from his lips. He was going into shock, quick. But he could still walk.
The Foevor vanished into the circle; that must be the exit. Dobie made his way down from the second level and, without hesitation, strode into the light.
Chapter Thirteen
Had he stopped to think, he might have seen the act of rushing blindly into the enemy's territory, unarmed, as strategically unsound. Aedham didn't stop to think. As usual, gating disoriented his sense of balance; Aedham stumbled as he hit the pavement on the other side, landing on his hands and knees. The hard surface told him where down was, and that's where he reached for node energy.
His new surroundings came into focus around him. This was one of the unfinished warehouse-sized passages of Mort's palace, branching off in three different directions. Torches glowed dully on the wall, casting murky, wavering light. Before him, at the far end of the passage, stood Mort with a Clapperleg towering behind him.
"How nice of you to join us," Mort said. "It will save me the trouble of tracking you down." He said something to the Clapperleg. "Looks like your army is going to have to do without you this round."
Then the King saw the long levin rifle perched on the Clapperleg's shoulder, aimed directly at him and building up node power.
As the Clapper fired, Aedham crawled backwards like a crab, rolling under the Gate and leaping to his feet on the other side. Before him was another passageway, big enough to drive a semi through. As he ran for it, the node blast struck, knocking him off his feet. His body running on autopilot, he scrambled to his feet and staggered forward.
The Gate must have taken the brunt of the blast, he noted as he looked behind him through hovering fragments of light, jagged like broken glass. The Gate healed itself quickly, reforming into a solid yellow portal. Beyond this he saw the Foevor hopping, determinedly, towards him.
At a dead run he fled down the passage, his only tools for self preservation now being his feet. The image of the moving Clapper stayed in his mind. He heard the Clapper's rifle building up for another blast.
As he ran he started feeding node power to a shield between it and him, skimming the energy from everything he could. The shield sputtered, collapsed, then slammed into place; this was something he normally did while standing still, with no outside distractions. And a rather fierce distraction was trying to kill him.
Still he felt a big red cross hair on his back, intersecting right over his kidneys. With luck the bigger rifle would take longer than thirty seconds to charge up.
On his left, a side passage popped into view; it had the immediate benefit of getting him out of the line of fire, and the more long-term one of being a bit small for a Clapper.
The moment he was around the corner the Clapper fired again. A ball of node energy flashed by harmlessly, its draft blowing out all the torches, then struck a wall somewhere, causing a brief, minor earthquake, with no apparent collateral damage. Aedham stood, catching his breath, in near darkness. The only light was from up ahead.
The Clapper's foot stomps drew nearer.
Running at top speed towards the light, he burst through an opening and entered a yard, finding himself in the middle of a drill. Standing at attention on either side of him were Mort's human army of rubyheads, rank upon rank of them, looking straight ahead at full attention. A few seemed to notice him; most resembled zombies, as usual.
But the most disturbing feature of the assemblage of youths was that twenty of the roughly three hundred of them possessed powered up levin rifles, lights blinking and ready to go. Above the packs hovered pockets of node energy, waiting to be released.
Mort must have made more, Aedham thought. Maybe if I can get the ones with the rifles to surround me, we can call it even.
Such tactics did not seem to be viable, however.
The rubyheads' stiff obedience dissolved some as a few turned to regard the elf who had run headlong into their drill. The apparent drill instructor—a tall, translucent creature, a form of wraith-like Foevor Aedham hadn't seen before—regarded Aedham uncertainly, as if trying to determine if he was one of their troops, out for a romp.
It won't take long to figure out I'm not a human, Aedham knew. He spotted another opening on the other side of the grounds, and made a run for it.
The wraith-like Foevor evidently decided then that he was an intruder, and barked an order. Aedham heard a chilling roar cry erupt from the entire army, followed by a pounding of many feet as they mobilized to pursue him.
The exit was the top of a long set of stairs which ran down the side of a wall; the grounds were actually on the roof of what looked like an even larger palace. How big does this place need to be anyway? he thought, before he had the chilling realization that Mort probably intended to populate the kingdom with many more Foevors, including the Clappers. Everything he'd seen here was in proportion to them. Open for business.
Aedham was halfway down the long expanse of stairs when he saw the teenaged horde skid round the corner and come down after him. Not much discipline here; perhaps they wer
e unable to take independent action. They certainly seemed to be moving as one: after him. At least they weren't shooting levin bolts. Yet.
At the base of the stairs he found himself at the edge of a vast commons, across which he saw what had to be the main gatehouse entrance. Over the exit leading out of the palace a vast portcullis was poised like a guillotine. Two Clapperlegs guards peered over the ramparts, saw what was coming, and disappeared. A moment later the portcullis began to lower.
The prospect of being trapped in the monstrous palace with three hundred crazed teenaged humans, some armed with levin rifles, gave him another boost of energy. This was not how elves were supposed to die.
The portcullis was halfway closed.
From behind him, he felt a levin rifle power up.
He dodged left, still running towards the gate. A node blast rocketed over him and hit the gatehouse over the portcullis. Rock and dust rained down, but the structure remained standing, and the grate continued to close. Now the portcullis was two thirds closed; he heard the new wood creaking in the grooves.
Elves aren't supposed to be skewered on the end of a palace gate, either! he thought, flinging himself into a dive. He hit the ground just under the pointed ends of the portcullis, and rolled out from under them as it closed. He got up to flee, and found his T-shirt pinned under one of the timbers. Through the portcullis he saw the mob drawing closer. Two were aiming levin rifles at him as they ran.
He ripped the T-shirt away from the timber and ducked as two node blasts pummeled the gate. The walls bowed out over the portcullis from the impact, followed by what had to be the portcullis gears, creaking and groaning in protest. The node blasts must have damaged the workings.
You guys need to work on that, Aedham thought as he set about to put more distance between him and the palace. The palace's outer fortification looked like the Great Wall of China; he couldn't see where it ended, it just dissolved into the horizon.
The mist surrounding the palace thickened to a soupy mix; confident he was far enough away, Aedham reached for the power to conjure a Gate.
* * *
Dobie walked into the circle of yellow light, feeling some warm, tingling power move through him. His pain diminished, and he was able to see ahead of him another circle, darker than its surroundings.
He fell through to the other side on a hard, cold surface, and rolled over on his back. I'll stay here a second, he thought. He was getting weak, and all this moving around wasn't doing his still bleeding wound any good.
Somewhere nearby a horrible ruckus was taking place.
The flash of an explosion briefly lit the place, which was something between a cave and a cathedral. Something huge and lumbering like an elephant was moving around down there. He felt the vibration through the pavement, and he thought that maybe it might be a good idea to go somewhere else, at least until he determined what the big thing was, and what it was trying to do.
With difficulty, he sat up. When the stars cleared from his vision, he saw another creature, several paces away, studying him rather intensely. It was tall like the elves, yet looked nothing like them. As it approached, Dobie saw that it had no eyes, only a mouth, a slit for a nose, and two small conical ears that looked like funnels. A dark green reptilian skin covered it from head to toe, and it appeared to be naked, though he saw nothing that resembled genitalia of either sex.
Despite its strangeness, the creature did not feel threatening. In the mists of Cu Chulainn's memory Dobie dredged up the fact that Foevors took many shapes. Perhaps this was one of them.
Now to convince it who I am, Dobie thought, doubting his abilities to do so.
"I'm one of you," Dobie said, and the Foevor tilted its head quizzically at him. "I'm a Foevor."
Still, uttering the words sounded strange, and a part of him didn't want to believe them, not yet. "I need some help here," Dobie said.
The creature said nothing, but seemed to understand. It extended a hand, which Dobie took and pulled himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness threatened to put him back on the ground; the creature grabbed him, and draped Dobie's arm over his neck, and started walking him to an archway leading to another passage.
* * *
Aedham had to refortify the Gate after half the Seleighe army had moved through it. There was a power drain on the nodes; something was going on over in the palace that would require more energy and he didn't want to speculate on what that might be. In twos and threes, the Avalon cavalry passed into the Unformed realm, the outer wall of Mort's palace a towering behemoth on the horizon. With each new soldier, he felt the scale tip, slowly, in his favor.
But his mood turned dour as he considered the human puppets on the other side of the Gate, and what options he had in dealing with them.
We will not fight them. They probably think this is a big game of Lazerwarz, and in some way it is. What they don't know is that this game is for real, it's for keeps, and the weapons kill.
Then what to do? Mort was well aware that the Seleighe would hesitate before attacking human kids; in fact, he was probably counting on that. He'd send the kids on ahead of the Clappers to cover for them.
And with that hesitation . . . the Clappers will have moved into position. Not such a bad plan. But a plan completely without honor. The rubies controlled his unwilling draftees.
The rubies. Aedham reached in his pocket for the stone he removed from Joystik's head, and examined it. It was still dark and inert, but the path of matrices encoded within were still readable. These are all synthetic stones, the Mage remembered, kenned from one original. The patterns of power are exactly the same! And I've already reversed Joystik's stone.
Knowing that, the King knew he had the way to defeat Mort.
* * *
The King found the weapons master, who had what he needed: two levin rifles and a roll of duct tape. Non-Underhill gear, to be sure, but Aedham had learned the usefulness of duct tape while growing up in Dallas.
While his army set up camp around him under Petrus' watchful eye, King Aedham went to work on one of the rifles. He popped open the back, revealing the disc on which the diaspar stone spun. The panel he removed contained amene crystal, and under the disc was the topolomite. Aedham replaced the diaspar stone with the ruby, which was larger and didn't fit in the hole. A small patch of duct tape compensated for that. He snapped the panel back, turned the gun on, and looked for someplace to try it.
He moved to the edge of the camp to try out the new device. The mist was thick here, and he thought this might prove an impediment. The wheel was spinning, but he felt no node energy building behind it. This was good; he wasn't after node energy.
Aiming the gun into the mist, he fired. The mist reflected a large red spot, which he explored with his Mage sight. It did indeed contain the matrix code within its light. But would it disrupt the rubyhead spell? Without node power behind it, the gun was just a fancy projector.
I am, of course, a Mage, Aedham reminded himself. I can feed it all the node power I want. He explored this possibility, examining the code lurking in the light, then siphoned a bit of power from the nodes. The result was a tightly focused beam; he shone it on the ground before him, then into the mist. The beam spread with distance, he noted. Did that mean it weakened, too? His Mage sense told him it did.
At a distance . . . I have to feed just enough to boost it. And not so much that I inadvertently turn a kid's brains into tapioca with a levin bolt.
With the beam on the ground, he noticed something amiss in the patterns. If I'm trying to reverse the spell . . . shouldn't the matrix pattern be reversed too?
He removed the panel and turned the ruby around, taping it back into place, then projected a beam into the mist again.
There's the pattern, again . . . in reverse! That's what I will need. That should—I hope—cancel the rubyhead spell. But will it be enough for everyone? Or does Mort have some other protection on the rubyheads to prevent what I'm trying to do? Won't know till I try it.
* * *
Dobie lay on a hay mattress, in a large room that reminded him of a barn. Other people apparently lived here, too. All around were more than a hundred hay mattresses, strewn with signs from the Overworld: a NIN T-shirt, a pair of jeans, a pack of Marlboros. He vaguely recalled the creature that brought him here, the lizard thing that tried to talk, but couldn't quite form the words.
Pain shot through his mauled arm when he moved it. It was definitely getting worse; the wounds were swollen and bright red. He knew an infection when he saw one. Perhaps he should have tended to this before coming here.
Then, at the end of the huge room, a light.
Father?
The light drew closer, a ball of light growing to a long oval which flickered with an image inside.
Yes, it was Father. Lugh was coming towards him, accompanied by the peculiar creature who had found him.
"I wasn't expecting you to come join me down here," Lugh said conversationally. The light folded into an envelope around him, and dimmed.
Was that anger, or displeasure, lurking somewhere behind those words?
"I followed Mort," Dobie said, then realizing how feverish he was. "The light brought me here." His words were a mere whisper. "You told me . . . you told me to report to him. To answer to him. I thought it was the way to find you."
"It was, as you can see," Lugh said as he came up beside him, holding the transparent staff which had the miniature thunderstorm churning inside. "So you have. Now. You've come to join the army."
"I've come for help," Dobie said, not believing Lugh didn't notice how injured he was. With a grimace he held the ruined arm up, biting his lip to keep from screaming. "Morrigan appeared in Lazerwarz in the form of a wolf. She attacked me and ripped my arm up," He lay the arm back down, not able to hold back an audible moan. The entire limb throbbed with his rapid heart beat. "It's making me very sick, father."
Lugh nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that means I'll need to get medical supplies for humans. You are half human, after all."
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