by Adams, Tom
After a passage of time he felt the lip of a vessel against his lips, and a fiery liquid poured down his gullet.
“For strength,” he heard her say. The potion revitalised him as its heat spread like molten gold through his body.
Before long he was conscious. Celestia explained what had transpired.
“How long have they been?” he murmured.
“About forty minutes.”
“They shouldn’t have gone,” he said, sitting up in the chair.
“Shhh. Rest. I can sense them returning. They are not far.”
She sat next to him on a makeshift seat made up from a stack of mouldy blankets. She looked at him, her mind open.
“Celestia, it seems we never have time to ... ” He didn’t finish. She could read his thoughts, and he in turn was under no illusion about the sentiments she broadcast. She leaned across, not needing further invitation, and placed her lips on his. Despite her appearance being that of a Celebrain, he could taste them sweet as nectar, less fulsome than those of Lotus but tantalising just the same.
Damn the comparison.
No need to explain or justify, she sent. You cannot banish a former lover so quickly from your thoughts. I just felt I ought to do that.
Ought?
I think it’s time we gave ourselves permission. After all we don’t know what the future holds.
Maybe we should ask Destain.
She screwed her face up at the proposition.
Then again, maybe not.
The smile slipped from her face. “Albany and Aislynn. They’re not alone. We must ready ourselves. Do you think you can open another gateway?”
He shook his head. “The walls between realities are dense here. Our only chance is to make it back to our previous drop-off point. I might be able to open up the tunnel where the fabric of reality is weaker.”
She looked amongst the discarded weapons and picked up a light broadsword. “Just stay behind me.”
They burst out into the corridor to find Albany and Aislynn bearing down on them, all pretence of illusion gone. A maul of Necrolytes pounded close behind.
“Back to the access point,” Celestia said. “Merrick will try to re-open the gateway there.”
They retreated up an incline at a pace dictated by Merrick’s stumbling. Albany used the opportunity to disable the nearest Necrolyte with a war-hammer he had acquired. The narrowness of the passage and the elevation gave the companions an advantage, but in the end it only provided a few seconds respite. The footfall of more warriors could be heard in the distance, heading towards them. The Necrolytes would catch them in a pincer movement within seconds. He looked ahead and saw a crossroads. He staggered towards it and glanced in all four directions. Down one passage he saw an endless line of Necrolytes jogging towards them.
His companions joined him seconds later. Albany and Aislynn had dispatched their Necrolytes but they could hear more following behind.
“Which way?” Aislynn said.
“Straight down there,” Merrick replied, pointing. He noticed a tear in her sleeve and blood staining the material before dripping off her sword hand.
“I can create a multiplication to buy us time,” she said, grimacing.
“Do it,” Merrick replied, “then follow me.” The adrenaline flow revived him, but his movements were still uncoordinated. Celestia grabbed his arm just as five illusions sprang from each of them, spreading out in all four directions.
It was just as it had been outside Ashgabat, when Rovach had performed the same magick. Aislynn had thrown the Necrolytes into confusion, and the companions grasped the chance to speed away from the melee. They passed the latrine alcove and Merrick felt the weakness in the ether ahead. It was as if the breach in reality had been sewn up with crude stitches.
He applied his will and saw a fissure appear in the air. Wild energy crackled through the gap but it remained too small to pass through.
“I can’t do it,” he said in desperation, “there’s too much resistance.”
“The Necrolytes,” Albany cried, “they’re not fooled.”
Merrick snatched a glance behind and saw a familiar combatant waving his hands and dispelling the illusions Aislynn had created.
“Radice,” Merrick said. “What I wouldn’t give to tan his hide.”
“Merrick,” Celestia said. “You must try again. I will join with you—perhaps I can augment your power.”
He launched his will at the fissure with renewed momentum. Celestia’s mind-force bolstered his and they saw the tear in reality grow, yet it was still too small.
Albany and Aislynn parried Necrolyte weapon-thrusts but they were losing ground. Behind the snarling beasts, Radice held his hands high. Merrick could sense the man adding his energy to the onslaught.
“We can’t hold them off much longer,” Albany said. He bore a wound across his forehead, the crimson flow unsighting him in one eye.
“One more push,” Celestia said.
It was all Merrick could do to remain conscious, but Celestia’s mind-force swelled beneath him. He felt rather than saw the fissure split with an audible snap.
“We’re through,” Celestia said and pushed him headfirst through the breach. She followed into the tunnel of energy, picking him up, coercing him to use his legs. He heard the clash of weapons behind and hoped Albany and Aislynn were able to follow. The tunnel ahead was open, but he sensed the fissure close behind and the air fill with chaotic energy.
The walls of existence, he sent, they’ll swallow us up.
His terror was short-lived. Ten more strides and they were through—cast into the next reality. Merrick lay on the ground in a twilight world. He twisted round to see first Celestia, then Albany and finally Aislynn tumble through.
The crack in the air slammed shut, leaving only a compressed silence holding sway.
~~~
Chapter 37
Sunset superman
Jagur Shamon observed Lotus from the shadows. He liked to watch during unguarded moments like these. They were the most explicit evidence that she had undergone a complete metamorphosis. She held a rod of power above her head, wielding it like a spear. Her stance was that of a striking jaguar as she focused on the target two hundred yards away. The battle garb he had given her fit like she was born to it. It gave her the air of a warrior queen, the manifestation of her prowess as beguiling as her beauty. He saw with a magus’ eye the slightest flicker of one eyelid initiate the release of the staff. It launched itself across the room faster than it took him to blink, and struck the target on the outer roundel.
Lotus bowed her head, disappointment etched on her face. She raised her hand again and concentrated her will on the embedded rod. It vibrated like a dipole under the influence of a magnetic field, then shot out of the target back into her outstretched hand.
“Your power grows by the day, my butterfly.” Shamon strolled from his vantage point and stood opposite the protege, clearly impressed at the display she had just performed. The combat arena would have been awash with sparring Ukurum during the daytime. Now, with nightfall, it was empty. The sprung floor and stark walls of stone echoed back Shamon’s voice, giving it a faux-horror delay.
“The process is too slow,” Lotus said and, as if to prove the point, gestured at the metal weights stacked up on the floor. They rattled and shook, then stood still. She gasped with the effort, and partly from frustration.
“You must be patient,” Shamon said. “Your skill level is already years ahead of expectations, but mastery requires the passage of time. If you rush the acquisition phase, your technique will suffer in the long term.” He held out his hand, fingers spread, and lifted it slowly upward. The top disc, about twenty kilograms, hovered above the pile. Shamon narrowed his eyes, then flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture. The weight arced across the chamber and struck a side wall, burying itself in the plaster. Rock chips spat out and scattered over the floor.
“A novice might have accomplished what you
just saw, but their lack of experience would have compromised the release and accuracy of the projectile. A liability in a combat situation.”
Lotus threw her rod to the ground. “It’s easy for you to say, but try to imagine my helplessness when Merrick attacked. He came close to killing you, and all I could do was wave a pathetic dagger—and we all saw where that got me.”
Shamon’s face creased into a benevolent smile, an affectation he had until recently only reserved for Sarlic. “Your pride’s been hurt. That’s understandable, but these matters are too important to be sacrificed on the altar of vanity.”
“Vanity? It was only your safety that concerned me.”
“Of course it was. Only a cynic would think it was anything to do with being disarmed by Miss Barone.”
Lotus turned her back on him and opened a grimoire. He could tell she was only pretending to read. “She ... they mean nothing to me. But the fact that they were here in the citadel again shows how close they can get to you.”
He approached and clasped her shoulders. “The past is there to be learned from, not to be a source of regret. You will flourish in time.”
She turned and looked up at him. “Though not soon enough to join you in battle.”
Shamon gave a small sigh. “There may yet be a role for you. How is your unique talent developing?”
A glimmer of satisfaction passed across her face. “I can sustain it up to ten minutes.”
“Excellent. I am still astonished at how fortune has led to our union. First, the completion of the Great Work, then the discovery of your magickal potential. The spirit of Ukurum will dominate the realms beyond Celebrai, and we will participate together.”
Lotus laid her head on his chest. He knew she would hear the dark song that coursed through his mortal flesh. “Has the Hierophant alliance responded to your pronouncement?” she said.
“Not yet. They will suspect entrapment and hold one of their insipid war councils. There they will toss theories and speculation back and forth in equal measure. Whichever decision they come to is of little consequence. We will defeat them in a day or a year—I am a patient man.”
“One of your many qualities,” she said. Again, he marveled at his mate. Assertive yet not presumptious.
“Shall we retire to your rooms?” she asked, “I yearn for release once more.”
The smile he gave her was eager and alive with affection and delight. He took her hand and led her from the arena.
~~~
When Merrick and his companions emerged from the Paraganet gateway, Karapetian and Jason were waiting for them. The travellers looked haggard and worn. Merrick didn’t even have the energy to stand. Albany and Johnny supported him as best they could.
“Thank Aiwas you have returned,” Karapetian said and instructed two Hierophants to support Merrick.
Jason stood with arms folded and surveyed the bedraggled group. “Eight of you left, two absent and you have gained another member. Are we to assume the worst has happened to your mercenaries?”
“Stow it, Jason,” Albany said. “Now isn’t the time for petty point scoring.”
“Who’s the Ukurum? She looks half dead.”
Celestia slung her pack to the floor. “Her name’s Tessanee and she’s been quite candid with us ... eventually.” She darted a look at Johnny, who stood, impassive over his captive.
“Are any of you hurt?” Karapetian asked.
“Albany and Aislynn could do with some attention,” Celestia said, “but I’m most concerned about Merrick. He’s never pushed himself this far before.”
“Let’s get the four of them to the hospital wing. You’ve no doubt got a lot to tell us, but it can wait an hour or two.”
Merrick took two steps before his legs gave way. A blackout shutter closed over his vision.
When he came round it was to daylight and the sound of hushed whispers nearby.
“Dieu merci, he’s awake,” Celestia’s face appeared indistinctly in his field of view. His mouth opened to speak but only a moan came out.
“Lie still,” she said. “Doctor’s orders. Here, have some water.” She lifted his head and pressed a cup to his lips. The water sank into his parched tongue and unglued it from the roof of his mouth.
“What time is it?” he managed to utter.
“Don’t you mean what day it is?” she said.
“I can’t have been here long. I only just passed out.”
“You’ve been still as a corpse for two days.” Destain’s voice floated over from outside his vision.
“That’s why it’s called dead-sleep.” Albany’s voice—from the foot of the bed.
Merrick lifted a numbed hand and rubbed his eyes. When he pulled it away his eyesight wasn’t much improved. “You’re all blurry,” he said.
Destain approached, holding a hypodermic. “It will pass,” he said. “Though I have to say, you’ve been lucky.”
“Really?”
“Few ever emerge from dead-sleep, and usually not with such speed. Here, I’m going to give you a shot of Restiatin.”
“What’s that?”
“The recipe is complex and it’s expensive. It’ll give you a boost.”
Destain administered the drug and Merrick felt its effects immediately. The potion cleared his vision and revitalised every muscle as his heart pumped the elixir around his fatigued body.
“Fuck me, that’s quite something.”
Albany laughed. “They usually reserve it for debauched Hierophant parties, along with the caviar and A-grade cocaine.”
The thought of Jason snorting drugs and Karapetian shooting up brought a grin to Merrick’s face. “Yeah, I totally believe that.”
He wanted to hear what had happened during his blackout. His friends were happy to oblige. The big news was the communique from Shamon.
“He’s laid down an inviolable challenge,” Celestia said. “Which means a formal declaration of war.”
“Fucking hell,” Merrick said. “How did Karapetian respond?”
“He’s not made a decision yet—he wanted to wait and see if you would come round.”
“Well, I suppose it’s nice to know he wants to consult. But what does the challenge mean?”
Celestia passed him another cup of water. “It’s a sacred undertaking. Mage-locked. The two parties agree terms of war and each side is bound by them.”
“A bit like that first meeting we had with him?”
“Oui. To break the conditions is to invoke the wrath of the Netherworld.”
Merrick took a sip of water. His head was completely clear now. “What conditions have they proposed?”
“Shamon wants to engage us in Celebrai,” Albany said.
Merrick snorted, “I bet Karapetian kicked that one into touch right away.”
“Actually, he didn’t. True, Shamon would have advantages. It’s where he’s built his army, he knows the terrain and most likely has the citizens of Celebrai under his command.”
“So why should we even entertain the idea?”
“First, the longer we wait, the more time Shamon has to build his army. We don’t have the spawning technology he has. Within a year his numbers could be double our own. Also, he couldn’t fight a war this size on earth at present. The secular powers would overwhelm him in a matter of hours.”
Merrick was still puzzled. “Then why not wait it out?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure. Perhaps he’s just impatient. Maybe he has some trick up his sleeve, we don’t know. But we have a few surprises of our own. For example, Shamon doesn’t know you can create new gateways. He’ll assume we appeared in Celebrai through an existing portal.”
“I need to see Karapetian straight away.” Merrick made to get up but Celestia placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“No need,” she said. “You’ll see him later. Besides, you still need to rest.”
There was a knock on the door and Merrick received his second surprise of the day. “Arun, you o
ld dog,” he said. The Vietnamese hobbled in and embraced him. For a man who had brushed with death and bargained back extra time, he was in reasonable shape. A bit thinner, perhaps but the biggest change was his arm.
“Who is this?” Merrick said. “The terminator?”
Arun looked at his new arm with a smile. “The Hierophant engineers made it from polished titanium alloy. It’s a functional system of gears, cylinders and electronic motors.” He opened out his fingers and flexed the arm to show off its range of motion. “Even better than the original,” he said. “I owe that Necrolyte a favour. The engineering labs here have given me a limb that’s faster, stronger and almost indestructible.”
“Sorry,” Merrick replied. “I paid back the Necrolyte’s generosity by melting its insides.”
“So I hear. It was too merciful a death.”
They looked at each other with understanding, two soldiers having survived the fire of combat and become refined by the experience.
The companions talked for a while, sharing their experiences and knowledge. When Mike joined them later they cracked open a bottle of Karapetian’s single malt and celebrated their survival. Even Celestia partook, although Arun declined.
Mike brought them up to speed with his recruitment campaign. Merrick was concerned that the loss of Biff and Hacker might have deterred the other mercenaries from continuing the mission.
“On the contrary,” Mike said “they’re all the more determined to exact revenge on the Ukurum. They’ve been training with the Hierophants and Arun here for eight hours or more a day.”
“We have learned much from each other,” Arun put in. “With uncertainty surrounding the functioning of firearms in Celebrai, we’ve had to concentrate our energies on swordsmanship, archery and unarmed combat.”
“Do you think Karapetian will accept Shamon’s challenge?” Celestia said.
“We have to be prepared,” Mike replied. “Anyhow, we’ll know in a couple of hour’s time. He’s called a war council and we’re all to attend.”
They agreed to meet up ten minutes before the meeting commenced. In the meantime the friends dispersed and left him alone with Celestia.