Reality's Plaything

by Will Greenway

  The crusty white ground at the top lay in stair-stepped ripples that crackled underfoot. Bannor heard bubbling and steam billowed along the ground. The reek of sulfur and stagnant water permeated the air.

  “Careful where you step,” he said. “The ground is only a thin crust over boiling water in places.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “There’s a place like it to the south. Holes in the ground spit poisonous water there. The mud boils in spots.”

  Wren rubbed her chin. “Geysers, eh?”

  “Wren has an idea?”

  “Only the beginnings of one. Let’s get the girl, and then worry about offense. Hit me.” She held out a hand. They repeated the process of the last signal. This time the blast was a shower of bright green.

  The sounds of Rankorhaaz sounded closer.

  Wren frowned. “He must be airborne to be moving that fast.” She looked at Bannor. “You better explain what you did to Sarai. We’re two leagues through rough terrain from where you left her and it’s only been a quarter of a bell cycle.” She stopped listened to the increasing volume of the demon’s roar. “Augmenting Sarai this much could be dangerous—to her and us.”

  Bannor frowned. “I—balanced—the power. At first, it was too much, but I fixed it.”

  “What did you fix? What kind of power? Terra-force, elemental energies, bio-force, magic—what?” Pausing, she bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What am I asking you for? You just do things.” She sighed.

  “Bannor, come here. There’s no way we’ll catch Sarai if she’s going that fast. We have to ensure she comes to us.” She pointed to the southern side of the hill. “Irodee, cut around the edge and find a defensible position.”

  “Wren kidding, right? Defensible against Rankorhaaz?”

  “Do your best.”

  The Myrmigyne nodded and jogged off. Bannor stepped up to Wren. She looked so small, yet she possessed an undeniable air of command. She accessed problems quickly and immediately chose what seemed to be a competent course of action. He saw why Irodee took orders from her. He didn’t like relying on women, even ones as capable as these two. If that’s what it took to get Sarai back, that’s what he’d do.

  “Kneel down. I hate being so short; everyone is taller than me—even the kids. Sarai isn’t real tall is she?”

  He shook his head. “Only a little taller than you.” He tried to keep his agitation under control. He knew by now that there was a reason for everything Wren did. She must have some purpose behind this inactivity.

  Wren sighed and listened to the sound of the roaring. She appeared to be steeling herself for something difficult. “Just once I’d like to make the acquaintance of someone shorter. All my friends are huge. They have to be careful not to step on me.” She let out a breath. “All right, Bannor, think of Sarai. The clearest picture you’ve ever imagined. We have to make a pattern from that picture. Like the one we healed you with, only this one will forge a mind-link with Sarai.”

  She looked in his eyes.

  “You’re going to come into my mind again, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “I was getting to that.”

  He knelt and clenched his fists. “Do it. Sarai is the most important thing in my life.”

  Wren touched his temples. An icy wind tingled through his skull behind his eyes. The sound of her voice soothed through his mind. I’m here. Give Sarai up to me. I need the pattern. As she spoke he saw a beautiful tangle of interwoven lines that pulsed with colors.

  Wren’s pattern.

  Sarai. He sensed that he already knew her pattern. It drew him across all the leagues to her side that first night. It made the imbuing ritual possible. He knew her most intimate secret. Sarai’s inner name.

  Bannor pictured Sarai, imagining the glowing bloom of her true-self alive with wildly dancing sparks. You’re sure this is her pattern?

  Yes.

  He sensed Wren force down a reaction. It sent a burning through him. What was so alarming?

  Wren prepared herself. Like a catapult cranked into position, her mind seemed to coil up, ready to spring free.

  Sarai!

  The thought was like an arrow shot at a distant target neither could see.

  Sarai!

  Bannor felt it hit home. The force of the elf’s reply rocked them both. Fear, anger, desperation, relief, the emotions were amplified out of proportion. Her voice echoed like she stood in a huge amphitheater. Bannor is that you?

  Bannor sensed Wren wincing. The volume of Sarai’s voice hurt. He spoke as though talking aloud, but the words beamed out across the distance. Yes. Come to the signal, Sarai. We used moving magics and are waiting at the top of the bald hill.

  I see it.

  Wren’s hands trembled on his face. Come fast. We’re waiting.

  I will.

  Wren broke the connection with a gasp. There were tears in her eyes. She swallowed. “What in Ishtar’s name did you do to her?” The savant stared at him for moment then broke eye contact. “Come on. We have to get ready.”

  Her tone sent a cold shiver along his spine. What had he done?

  Bannor followed as she picked a path around the periphery of the steaming terraces. They found Irodee standing in a cluster of rocks. Lines of war-arrows jutted from the ground and she’d leaned her spear against a boulder.

  “She’s coming,” Wren said.

  Irodee nocked an arrow and aimed at a winged figure now visible as a spidery outline in the sky. “So is Rankorhaaz.”

  * * *

  Some of my peers are alarmed at my behavior, at the way I treat living things, and consume whatever gets in my way. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’, my sister Athena once told me. ‘I am’, I responded. ‘I just do it better.’

  —From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’.

  Chapter Seven

  « ^ »

  Bannor stared at Rankorhaaz’s bat-like outline as it grew larger in the sky. An icy chill gripped his insides. This would be their ultimate test.

  Irodee poised, her bow drawn, breathing so shallow she looked like a statue. Moonlight reflected off the perspiration glistening on her forehead.

  Sword drawn, Wren stood by the Myrmigyne. The blue light cast from the blade made her features look metallic. She stared at the monstrosity without blinking. Red and green sparks danced around the knuckles of her free hand as it clenched and loosened.

  The tumble of boulders where they stood provided minimal cover. The dank odor of sulfur and minerals were strong reminders that an incautious retreat up the salt terrace behind them could mean a scalding death by drowning or asphyxiation.

  “Irodee like to know Wren’s plan now.”

  “Penetrate his armor.”

  Bannor gripped the haft of a hand-axe on his belt. Rankorhaaz looked as big as a dragon now. “Why do I think that’s been the problem all along?”

  “Because Bannor pretty smart guy.” Irodee drew the arrow back farther, readying to fire. “Perhaps Wren tell Irodee how we do it.”

  Wren took a breath. “When it’s hatched, you’ll be the first to know. We need to keep him occupied and get Sarai out of here.”

  Rankorhaaz dived, vanishing below the pointed silhouettes two hundred paces down the hillside. Trees shattered thunderously. They heard a female cry. The demon’s roar cracked over the valley. The ground shook as though some massive hammer pounded toward them.

  “Sarai!” A surge of energy crackled through Bannor’s body. He started for the trail.

  “Hold it.” Wren grabbed his arm. “Listen!”

  More snarling and pounding, wood sundering. Oaths uttered in a guttural language. Curses screamed back—in Elvish. A howl of frustration rang out.

  Footfalls pattered toward them so fast it seemed to be several creatures rather than one. The brush off to their left exploded. Sarai came toward them in a blur. Bannor didn’t even have time to brace before he was toppling under the weight of a female body.
Wren went sprawling, and Irodee let out a yelp.

  “Bannor!” came Sarai’s ecstatic voice.

  Down the hill, the pounding stopped, and they heard snarls and objects being thrown around.

  What had started as a happy reunion became a fight for life. Bannor’s ribs screamed as if they were being pulverized. Sarai’s body felt on fire and her arms clamped down like steel bands.

  “Sarai..! Augh! You’re-hurting!” For three days, all he’d dreamed about was holding his mate again. Now, he desperately wanted her to let go. Pushing against her shoulders with all his strength didn’t loosen her grip. “Let go!” “Bannor?” The pressure relented. He glimpsed the look of surprise on her pale face, violet eyes wide and mouth bowed.

  He pushed her off with a gasp. Rolling onto his knees, he clutched his middle and tried to get his wind back.

  “My One, what’s wrong?” Her hands gripped his shoulders.

  Bannor flinched and felt an empathic shock, knowing how that must appear to her.

  “Be careful, Sarai,” Wren said. He caught a glimpse of the savant’s feet near Sarai’s. “You’ve been charged with elemental power. You’re hurting without intending to.” She helped Bannor up, shaking her head. “Now I have a new savant and an avatar to take care of.”

  His gaze met Sarai’s, and then both of them stared at Wren. “What?”

  The demon’s roar drowned out her answer.

  Rankorhaaz’s huge silhouette rose above the trees.

  Wren stiffened and sheathed her sword with a loud clack. “Sarai, come here.” She drew the elf over to Irodee.

  Sarai’s gaze lingered on him.

  Holding his ribs with one arm he pointed. “Do as she says.”

  He could see details on the six-armed beast now. It was larger than when he first saw it. He drew a breath, and pulled the hand-axe off his belt. If Wren had a plan, now was the time.

  The savant kicked a spherical piece of granite the size of Bannor’s torso. “Pick it up, Sarai.”

  Bannor saw the doubt in the elf’s eyes. “Do it,” he urged.

  Sarai bent her knees and gripped the rock, obviously prepared for the great weight. The stone seemed to float off the ground. Despite its mass she balanced it in one hand.

  Rankorhaaz roared. Irodee shot two arrows that glanced off the armor of the demon’s forehead. He warded off two more arrows aimed at the eyes.

  Wren’s words were like a chant. “Stone, air, fire, and water, Sarai. Throw it. Throw it, hard.”

  Sarai stared at the demon only thirty paces away. The boulder glowed as it flew from her hands.

  Rankorhaaz howled as the projectile exploded against his chest. Hissing fragments of stone rained down on the forest trailing flame. Irodee loosed two arrows that thudded home where the armor had been weakened. Wren hurled one of her daggers, which slammed into an eye socket. Writhing and screaming the massive body dropped with a ground-shaking crash.

  Wren gripped Sarai’s shoulder. “Good shot! That’ll give that green bastard something to think about.” She spoke an odd word, and the dagger she’d thrown shimmered into her hand.

  “Well done, Little Star.” Bannor put his arms around Sarai feeling his skin turn sweaty where he touched her. Sarai hugged his arm and put a hand gently on top of his.

  “Is it dead?” Sarai asked.

  The Myrmigyne shook her head. “Irodee not think it can be killed.”

  Wren shook her head. “Short of incinerating him, his body will simply regenerate. It takes grand magics to permanently kill a demon of his power.” She looked toward the South. “While he heals, let’s get as far away as possible. Bannor, aim us for the place where you saw the geysers.”

  He nodded, glancing toward where Rankorhaaz crashed into the trees. The rational part of him wanted to run. His emotions told him to search for a way to finish the task Sarai started. Rankorhaaz had tried to kill his mate, to tear apart his life. He didn’t move until Wren tapped him on the shoulder. He took Sarai’s hand, oriented himself, and then headed toward their destination. With Sarai safe at his side, he would do most anything Wren asked.

  “Sarai, these are our new allies. This is Wren.” He gestured. “And Irodee.”

  “My gratitude.” Sarai put a hand on his shoulder as they descended the hill.

  Bannor looked in her eyes. He could read the questions and the agitation.

  Picking up the pace, he led the way down a narrow path studded with boulders and thick undergrowth. The marshy smell of Branager’s river grew stronger.

  “Lady Wren,” Sarai said. Bannor glanced back to listen to the exchange. “You referred to me as an avatar. What did you mean?”

  “No ‘lady’, just Wren. Bannor transformed you somehow. If I can trust my training, and what I can see of the energies in you, it appears that you’ve become an elemental avatar.”

  Bannor slowed, looking back toward Wren. “How is that different from one of the avatars of the gods?” he asked.

  Wren frowned. “Avatar is more of a term. The elements aren’t alive the way a god is, but she is an outlet for power. I’ll explain better when there’s time. For now, she’s in no danger.”

  Bannor felt Sarai studying him. He couldn’t read her expression. Strange that after changing so much that she didn’t have a stronger reaction: anger, angst-something. He decided that it must be shock.

  “You’ll be all right, Little Star.”

  “I feel better already, my One.” She bumped against him, her skin hot as if she’d spent all day beneath a desert sun.

  Behind them on the hill, the demon roared. Even those fearsome wounds had not kept it down long.

  Sarai let out a breath. “Next time we meet, it shall be a bigger rock.” Her gaze sought out Wren. “We will not leave him to chase us again.”

  The Myrmigyne chuckled. “Irodee think she going to like Sarai.”

  “I understand her feelings,” Wren said. “I don’t feel confident taking chances now.”

  “Irodee not the only one getting old and cautious—”

  Wren held up a hand and listened to Rankorhaaz’s curses retreating toward the North. She frowned. “We must have hurt him real good. He’s giving up.”

  Bannor glanced toward the dwindling sound and pulled Sarai against him. She pressed her cheek to his arm.

  “Free,” he muttered. “At least for a while.”

  Sarai stared at him, face stern. She squeezed his arm until the pain made him wince. Face serious, she said, “I want you to explain everything.”

  Bannor held his breath, staring back at her. “I will.”

  Her grip tightened again. “Yes, you will. I like not this situation.”

  He nodded. Sarai appeared to have the power under control, and almost too quickly. It didn’t take long for her to express her displeasure. Now that she was so strong, she would turn the tables on him. Before this, he had often used his mass and muscle to be stubborn. It was one of the few sore spots in their relationship. The thought of her using physical strength to intimidate him made his stomach tighten. He appreciated strong women. They could be equal to men. Stronger? That was wrong.

  “Let’s move ‘til daybreak, steady march,” Wren said. “I want to be out of this territory fast. I don’t feel like fighting off a tribe of orcs.” She turned and gazed up the hill for a moment. “I still want to head for those geysers. Are they in the orc territory?” Bannor shook his head. “Good. We’ll stop there.”

  Irodee put a hand on the smaller woman’s shoulder. “Wren still planning something?”

  She nodded. “A couple things.”

  Bannor wondered what Wren could be planning that involved going to a place where the ground was filled with boiling water and mud.

  Sarai nudged his ribs with her elbow. The glow of his mate’s violet eyes looked brighter than he remembered. “Your explanation, my One. What are we into?”

  He took her hand, kissed it, and laced his fingers in hers. It felt reassuring to know she was there. He forga
ve her agitation. He’d be snappish, too, after what she’d been through.

  He started by explaining the situation at Blackwater, how Irodee and Wren helped him. He covered his experience in the forest with backlash and the first night of astral travel. The more of the story he told, the less real it all seemed. His life had been so tranquil before this.

  Sarai listened solemnly, occasionally asking him to elaborate. She stayed close, rarely letting go of his arm, as if she felt he might vanish at any moment. The walk became tougher as they came parallel with the river, negotiating tree falls and rocky terrain. The night had been exhausting for him, and they rested often to let him catch his breath. Bannor hated appearing so feeble, especially in front of Sarai. He gritted his teeth and trudged on, making light of it. The deep indigo of the eastern sky had paled to azure cut with swaths of orange by the time he finished telling his story, and Sarai had in turn described her capture and the caravan ride up the Marin pass.

  They stopped on a hill that overlooked a russet valley gouged deep by Branager’s river. The scalloped edges of the depression turned to the west for a league before side winding through cloud-capped peaks to the south. Yellow tinged smoke rose from a butte on the far side of the valley.

  Wren pointed. “Those your geysers, Bannor?”

  He nodded and sat down on a deadfall.

  Sarai stood by him, arms folded and gazing at the distant landmark. Everything but the vest and cloak he’d taken from the guard the night before looked like shredded rags. Her skin looked gray from trail dust. These conditions certainly weren’t helping Sarai’s mood.

  Irodee stuck her spear in the ground and leaned on it. “Take us three bells to reach there. Maybe we rest here a bell then move on.”

  Wren stared at the faint plumes. “Damn, I wanted to camp there. I’m about dead, though. I don’t think I could keep going that long.”