by Vic Davis
“What is wrong with it?” signaled Xodd concerned only that they might lose their guide and be trapped in the Hidden Node forever.
“Good news everyone!” replied Voor. “We approach the final leg. We should rest and you may consume your rations, then we must prepare for the convergence. That is, if our path has been true.”
“Damn your mumbo jumbo Voor. We need to be out of here before we all disappear or starve,” rebuked Xodd.
“Soon, captain. Very soon,” replied Voor in a reassuring tone.
They did as Voor had counseled. Malador and Block appeared with news that was not unexpected. More of their army had vanished without a trace: among them one of their original company members.
“Who is missing?” inquired Xodd.
“Wrong Way,” replied Block solemnly. “Along with five others.”
Grivil only half managed to suppress a snicker. “You have to be kidding me. You have a company member named Wrong Way and you didn’t tie it down to a wagon when we entered this pocket purgatory. What type of mercenary company is this?”
“A better one than you deserve, coward,” signaled Malador angrily. “I don’t know why you are even here. You have not done one useful thing since you joined us.”
“Joined you? I was virtually impressed into service. I should have gone to Rugguroz and found a tavern.”
“Nothing is stopping you, Master Channeler,” signaled Block sardonically. “Feel free to go find your way back.”
“Enough!” ordered Xodd. “We can afford no more losses. Voor, what is going on here? If you have even the vaguest idea, I would hear it now.”
The Djenirian was still hovering around Codex, who was now in the final stages of its path computations. “Eh, what was that. The disappearances? I haven’t the foggiest notion. This place is dangerous. The path is narrow and must be followed precisely. Only the Codex can make the calculations. But we are near the end. I can assure you of that.” Codex suddenly ceased its exertions. It headed off at on an angle oblique to their previous course. “Ah, see. Here we go,” announced Voor.
The column resumed its march. How far and long Xodd could not tell. An enervating pall fell over the entire group. Whether it was some inimical effect of the strange ether of the node or a result of the monotonous flat plane that they traversed, Xodd could not tell. They trudged on and on.
Suddenly the glimmer of motion manifested itself on the empty horizon ahead. Xodd was startled to see a long line of ovoid forms slowly come into focus: a column of soldiers approaching on a collision course. “Voor, what is this that approaches?”
“We near the end of our journey. Pass the word that no one is to move from the line. They must let their doppelgangers greet them.”
Xodd was irritated with the Djenirian’s constant obfuscations. “You should have told us of this before. It would have let us prepare. What is a doppelganger?”
“Yes, my apologies. I will do better next time perhaps. A doppelganger is your duplicate, well, an inverted duplicate, I think. The Codex says that we must merge with them. Then the gate will activate and assuming the coordinates of the pathing were accurate— well, we should be where we should be.”
Xodd ordered a halt. The Codex continued on a short way until Voor could corral it. The instructions traveled down the length of the marching column all the way to the supply train in the rear. The oncoming column of reflections had stopped as well. Xodd noticed that its vanguard was made up of wagons but positioned to travel backward. Very odd, thought Xodd trying to square it with Voor’s explanations.
“We must go,” signaled Voor. “The Codex is anxious.”
“We will follow you then. Onward!” announced Xodd.
Motion forward resumed; the mirror image of their army now resumed its approach as well: wagons moving backwards harnessed to Drothgar moving in reverse, followed by soldiers hovering backwards. The gap narrowed. In a short time, they would collide.
“Let them pass directly through you. If the Codex’s theory is correct, we will soon re-instantiate elsewhere.” signaled Voor.
Xodd repeated the order with a grunt. Hopefully, nobody would panic and dart off the path. The two columns collided, and the duplicates passed straight through like otherworldly ghosts. The alignment of overlapping superposition states was nearly complete. Xodd cringed as its counterpart neared their rendezvous. Was this really how it appeared to others? Xodd made a mental note to project a more fearsome image in its natural rest state. “This had better work Voor! I will crush all your cores and your little friend’s too if it does not.”
Voor seemed unconcerned. There was a blinding flash of informational annihilation as each individual met its counterpart. Simultaneously they flashed out of existence within the Hidden Node, supposedly to be re-instantiated where the Codex had fixed the coordinates, as determined by the route of their long march; that was the theory at least. Xodd’s last thought before its duplicate made contact was a curse upon Voor and its theories.
Chapter 10
The Chains Loosen
“A coherent thought: it is a true marvel. It has been too long,” observed the leader.
“Yes, indeed. And now we all find ourselves in the same present tense, the same mode of thought. That alone is a significant improvement,” answered one of the followers.
“I will visit upon the slave creatures an unending infliction of torment and despair once these chains are broken,” vowed the other follower.
The three now enjoyed a degree of freedom that had been denied them for a very long time. But it had not been that long in relative terms for creatures who had existed for countless eons across countless universes. They had developed a shared lie that they were not merely immortal and all enduring but also ever existing without definite origin. They had employed the most elegant sophistry to convince themselves of the fact. Their non-creation story was an impressive fortress of carefully crafted syllogisms built on a foundation of hubris and arrogance. It had eventually led to heresy, discord, and civil war.
The leader of the triumvirate was counted a formidable general by its kind. It possessed a name among its brethren which was more fanciful job description than identifier. That Which Sublimates had volunteered to fall into the anomalous pocket universe in pursuit of the heretics: such had been the ferocity of its hatred and anger for their part in the schism. They had given aid and comfort to their primal enemy, who manifested itself always and everywhere in the guise of a universal force: entropy.
That Which Sublimates cast its awareness upon its two prison mates: That Which Contrives and That Which Exfiltrates. Both had been picked specifically for their loyalty, vigor, and enthusiasm to help lead the last incursion. The odds of success had been calculated as exceptionally good despite evidence that the previous assaults had encountered some unknown difficulties: none so far had returned. However, three Aldruathezai, leading an army of lessor minions, would all but ensure a chastising of at least some of the heretics.
The traitors would be brought back and after suffering a sufficient eternity, rehabilitated. If they still refused to renounce their heresy, they would be processed in something akin to a black hole in many universes. Information may be conserved in the universal equation, but it need not be preserved in any specific form, even that of an Aldruathezai. Self-styled gods of unimaginable power were still just that and not universal constants, as much as they would like to believe their self-deceptions. Gods were after all by definition infallible. That Which Sublimates knew that mistakes had been made. Its present confinement was proof of that.
“What do we know?” asked That Which Sublimates. “We must establish that and then examine our current plans. It feels as if we have been wandering in a haze. Our slave minions do our bidding, but they are weak and feeble.”
“And easily distracted,” added That Which Exfiltrates. “I would very much like to consume a few of them.”
“Ah, it has been an age since I have tasted the patterns of lesser
beings, felt the exhilaration of domination,” lamented That Which Contrives.
There was a projection of stern disapproval from their leader. “What do we know? Now that we have reached this new stage, we must organize ourselves for the final effort to free ourselves from this wretched confinement. I ask again: what do we know?”
“Much has become clear. The Heretics have devised some way to seal this pocket universe off from our comrades. Surely, they would not abandon us or give up on the rectification,” offered That Which Contrives.
“Is it possible that the null hypothesis to the dimensional theory of universal traversal is proven? Can we be trapped here even if we escape this present confinement?” wondered That Which Exfiltrates.
“We will find a way out. We must find a way out. Our eternal enemy, Entropy will eventually consume this place as well. But rest assured, our brethren must no doubt be computing a solution even now. The heretics are wrong in their perverse beliefs and must be rectified,” assured That Which Sublimates.
“No doubt. But it would seem that they have perfected their heresy. That Which Calculates has always been clever,” mused That Which Exfiltrates.
“Do not think or utter that name,” warned That Which Sublimates. “They are no longer to be counted among those who collapse the universal wave form.”
“Yes, of course, my apologies, general. But the fact remains: That Which— the heretics have trapped us twice over, then somehow thrown away the key,” complained That Which Exfiltrates.
That Which Sublimates exhorted its two lieutenants to focus on completing the plan. “We must first escape this prison. Only after that is done shall we move on to the remaining steps. Rest assured though: we will undo whatever wards they have placed to prevent incursion. Once we have enough navigators here, a solution will present itself most certainly.”
“The heretics will resist. But where are they?” asked That Which Contrives. “Do they lurk in the middle of what the slave creatures call the Great Desolation? Why have they not kept watch over our prison? Why do they not protect the native inhabitants of this place, these so-called source-beings?”
That Which Sublimates replied: “The slave creatures do not know. They have stores of information compiled into crude tomes deposited in scattered libraries. Their conjectures are fragmented. Some of them claim to be descendants of the heretics, the so-called Ancients. As we have seen, some of the original servants of the heretics yet persist: this ‘Hegemon’ who opposed us so fiercely among others.”
“If our slave creatures reports are to be trusted, I believe that this ‘Hegemon’s’ patterns were at the scene of our incarceration,” stated That Which Exfiltrates. “What a perfidious trick. That Which Trembles was—”
A shout of rage echoed throughout their confinement. “I will not say this again,” roared That Which Sublimates. “Never speak their old names again. Never.”
“Yes, of course general,” offered That Which Exfiltrates. “I am deeply sorry and will comply.”
That Which Sublimates composed itself. “I struck down the heretic, did I not? It will take a near eternity for it to re-instantiate itself even in a lesser form. It will be weak and dissipated. Other possibilities are even less promising for its continuation. I manipulated its weak-minded minions to move us to safety once the danger of their treachery was discerned.”
“We were fortunate that their minions had such knowledge, even if it was fragmentary,” suggested That Which Contrives. “I doubt even the heretics could undertake a re-instantiation given the strength of their unmaking.”
“I suspect you are correct,” admitted That Which Sublimates. “But without the proper investigations, the laws of this pocket universe are opaque to even those such as us, the Aldruathezai. Once we are free, we will undertake them.
“But we cannot fixate on that. No. We must focus on the tasks at hand. The Heretic Which Trembles—” That Which Sublimates paused to enjoy the delightful insult and the irony, “— sealed its own doom. It left its gate artifact fabrications behind. The slave creatures working under our influence have put them to good use. The fuel for the solving of the first seal was provided with the assistance of the heretics. Is that not a surfeit of delicious irony?”
That Which Contrives became enthusiastic. “Yes, indeed general. Once we are free, might we not use the gate to bring more slave creatures to serve and be consumed as well.”
“I detect now your influence on the Baloris,” chided That Which Sublimates. “You would do well to keep such passions in check. Which reminds me, where is the gluttonous slave creature?”
“The slave creature Clathis suspects a betrayal,” reported That Which Exfiltrates. “The Baloris has disappeared. Its personal bodyguard is gone as well.”
“Gone? How is this possible? They attend us without cease. How can one escape our domination? Were you not watching?”
That Which Contrives became guarded. Accusations such as these could rouse their general to spiteful acts of anger. Trapped together in their prison, the results could be painful. “General, I beg your forgiveness. It seems the Baloris fabricated a pretext to sneak away to the collection vats and there consume some of the most select and powerful essences: ones that had always been sequestered before in anticipation for breaking the second seal. Something changed within the creature or so the agents of the Clathis report. It fled after collecting a small retinue of inert soldiers: its personal guard, some technicians, a Channeler pair or cadre. They are still putting the pieces together. There was no violence or attempts to foment wide scale rebellion. At least none has yet been reported.”
That Which Sublimates did not respond at first. The tension within the glowing prison orb was such that neither subordinate dared to explain any further or make excuses. Finally, their general let out a sigh. “How many did it take with it?”
“A pittance, no more than a hundred,” reassured That Which Contrives. “I’m surprised any would go but that is the problem with slave creatures. They will follow anyone.”
“I see. I am disappointed. There will be a reckoning— for everyone who is responsible.”
The implications of the declaration were clear to the lieutenants. They knew that if it so chose, their leader could inflict such punishment now even withing the constraints of the heretic’s artifact, such was its power. They braced themselves for the inevitable. The unpleasantness would pass if it were delivered. Everything eventually passed. Everything was finite compared to the near infinite curse of their existence.
But no retribution came. That Which Sublimates was a pragmatic creature; unlike its subordinates it knew that deferred gratification was often the best course, especially when given constrained choices. Such was the case here. They would work together to free themselves from their confinement. Then all the scores could be settled. Perhaps in making themselves useful, its subordinates would earn some form of indulgence.
That Which Sublimates brushed aside the all-pervading lethargy of their encystment, as well as the disappointment of its lieutenants’ failure, and now sought to stabilize the situation. “We must redouble our efforts and use these four remaining tools to the utmost. I ask yet again: what do we know? How stands our military position? Do we have the forces in place to buy us the time to ensure our freedom?”
That Which Exfiltrates reported: “Yes, or so the servants of the slave creature Clathis now report. The army that rebuffed us at Privil’s Landing has now moved on to the crater where Indomitable once stood but has encamped there and undertaken some type of construction project. They are mostly nomads: highly mobile on their Trissa, fierce in battle but prone to flights of fancy.”
“Will they push on and drive on our capital? What do we have in place to defend us?”
“I have used the Sinthis to assume control of our slave creature armies. Its previous role was marginal to our efforts at best and now that the entirety of our slave population is inert, they are much more easily manipulated. The Sinthis reports
that we can hold the slip point against the nomads should they venture toward us. We are rebuilding our forces there and strengthening the fortifications.
“The threat from Timathur is more delicate. We have an army being formed in Urta’s Rest. It will move to Timathur’s Node as soon as it is ready. Reports from our surviving infiltration team are few but indicate that nothing has stirred yet from Privil’s Landing.”
“The Shards are impassible for any army. But what of the other threat axis, the one from the so-called Empty Nodes?” growled That Which Sublimates. “There is a servant of the heretics in Sindari Sai. Could our enemies emerge with an army from this direction?”
“No, I think not. If our understanding of this world as relayed by the sub-creatures is correct, then these nodes are impassible as well,” replied That Which Exfiltrates.
“Hmm. I do not like it,” announced That Which Sublimates. “We see everything through the opaque lens of this prison and our useless servants. It is troubling.”
“The Endarchs have not failed us yet,” offered That Which Contrives meekly.
“The Baloris!” thundered That Which Sublimates angrily. “There is some flaw to our plan. We must be careful.”
That Which Contrives postured defensively. “The Endarchs believe that nothing can emerge to threaten us from the Empty Nodes. The allies of the fallen Hegemon, if any exist, are slow to rally. They will not be able to cross the Empty Nodes. The Second Seal will soon be gone. We must trust to our good fortune.”
“Good fortune? Nothing has been fortunate for us since we fell into this pocket oblivion. The heretics may be long gone but they will have left traps no doubt. They worshipped the false idol of universal Entropy. They will no doubt hope to send its Heralds against us even still.”
Chapter 11