Reality's Plaything

by Will Greenway

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  Lying on the floor of the kirika entranceway, Bannor gripped the hands clamped onto his arm and throat. When he met the gaze of his assailant, it felt as if he’d dived into icy river. Steel-colored eyes returned his stare. Those eyes looked out of a wolfish face with long cheekbones, a broad nose, and protruding jaw. Bannor knew that face better than anyone’s—it was his. The shock only made him struggle harder to shove the doppelgänger away. They tossed and rolled, but he couldn’t dislodge the creature.

  “Get it off me!” the doppelgänger yelled in a voice identical to Bannor’s.

  “No, get it off me!” he screamed.

  Boots scuffing on rock sounded all around him as he and the duplicate wrestled.

  Bannor heard the voice in his head.

  The words hit him like knife jabs. Another threat sent by one of Hecate’s vile beasts. This time trying to steal the Nola they’d been unable to take by force. A painful itch gnawed at his skull as if something were boring into his brain. It must be the doppelgänger trying to get at the Garmtur so it could wrest it away from him.

  Ice and fire swept through Bannor. The moment stretched out as voices shrieked in his mind. Part of him cried ‘run’! Another part said ‘kill’! The gods are invincible! Everything has a weakness. People will die. They’re dead anyway unless you fight. Retreat-regroup! Rammal died with an arrow in his back. You almost got killed trying to rescue him. He might be alive today if you hadn’t run. Pain. Guilt. Death! Life!

  Out of the war raging in him, an image focused in his mind. A tortured elf girl, eyes gouged out and body violated. Killed—simply to discourage him—to make him despair. It could have been Sarai. Next time, it might be, if he didn’t stop running—stop doubting.

  Hecate robbed him of peace, curtailed his freedom, now she tried to steal his identity. No more. Strike back-hard. The decision felt like a explosion that cleared away clinging doubts and fears. Chains snapped, and with their breaking came a surge of strength.

  He rolled atop the doppelgänger and smashed its face with his forearm. “I—” crack! “Am—” crack! “Tired—” crack! “Of you!”

  Bloodied, the creature cried out. “Agh! Sarai! Help me!”

  “Dammit, I’m the real one!” Bannor gritted. “Kill it! It’s trying to get the Nola!”

  “Don’t listen! It’s a trick!”

  “I can’t—” Sarai cried in an agonized voice, “tell them apart!”

  “Separate them fast!” Wren yelled. “I sense Nola in both.”

  A boom resounded in the kirika as a massive blow struck the vault-like entrance door.

  Yelps of surprise echoed through the room.

  “Sarai,” the Queen ordered, “use your power on the back wall. Make us another way out.”

  “Mother, I—”

  “Go!”

  Irodee rapped out orders. Her warriors dragged Bannor off the bloodied doppelgänger.

  Another impact vibrated the metal doors.

  Laramis staggered holding one ear. “They must have a ram!”

  “There’s no time!” The doppelgänger struggled as the men pinioned its arms. “Wren, can’t you tell he’s the creature!”

  Bannor concentrated on resisting the magic invading his mind. Through his Nola, he saw threads appearing between himself and the creature. He didn’t want to hurt the soldiers holding him, but he would to keep his power from being stolen.

  “Wren!” Bannor pleaded, trying to twist free. Crunches of pain shot through his arms, legs, and throat as the men tightened their grips. “If you don’t kill it, I will! It’s tearing at my Nola!”

  “The enemy wants to rattle us so we make a mistake.” Wren said in flat voice. She flinched as another boom went through the room. “Questions won’t work. Doppelgängers can read minds.”

  Bannor glanced to Sarai. A blue glow shone from her arms onto the wall. Before the Queen broke the magic bond between her daughter and him, Sarai melted whole cliffs with ease. Separated from his Nola, she strained to even make a distortion in the stone.

  “Corrd do!” The gap-toothed elf pushed through the fighters next to Wren.

  “Wren, I don’t know how he…” the doppelgänger started.

  “Shut up! Corrd, do it.”

  “Hurry,” Bannor growled. His heart sped, and he focused his Nola. He didn’t know if this black mirror image could succeed in stealing his power, but the slightest chance posed too great a risk. He’d learned well how destructive the Garmtur Shak’Nola could be. They couldn’t afford to let the avatars get even a fraction of that ability.

  Corrd bent first next to him, then by the creature. The elf pulled a long knife from his belt, and then leaned over the duplicate again. The room shuddered.

  “Whatever you do, do it fast!” Janai said. “They’re almost in!”

  Corrd turned and peered into Bannor’s eyes, his face almost touching his. Bannor smelled Quetzal on the elf’s breath.

  Odin. Decide. Decide now—! He’d have to go through Corrd to get the creature. He formed the Nola’s pattern in his mind, preparing to catapult himself into the heart of the enemy.

  I’m sorry, Corrd, this will hurt both of us.

  The elf narrowed his amber eyes, the lines of his face taut. Without warning, he spun and drove his dagger into the doppelgänger’s gut and twisted it up into the sternum.

  The creature convulsed and let out a screech. The red blood pumping from the twitching body changed to a pasty white color. Its smooth skin flickered through a rainbow of hues before becoming a pitted iron-gray hide. The features that so resembled Bannor’s rippled and elongated into a chinless wedge-shaped face. Wide, steel-colored eyes shriveled into black pits.

  “Odin,” Bannor choked. All the energy he’d amassed to break free and strike rushed out of him.

  Corrd threw an arm around Bannor’s neck. “Shimack, eh!?”

  Bannor gripped the elf’s shoulder, relieved that he hadn’t been forced to hurt his allies to get the enemy. “Thanks! I owe you.”

  Another boom on the door reminded him that Hecate still had other entertainments planned. He snatched his weapons off the floor and glanced again at the scaly corpse on the floor.

  “That’s only a start, Hecate,” he murmured.

  “Irodee, we’re leaving!” Wren sprinted toward the wall section where Sarai strove to form a hole. “Sarai, take cover!”

  His mate saw Wren coming and dove over the partition wall. At the last moment, blue fire erupted around the savant as she launched herself at the rock softened by Sarai’s power. Wren hit the wall with an explosion that knocked Bannor off balance. He fell in a tangle with the other warriors as bits of rock pelted them.

  A gray vapor filled the air, and icy gusts swirled into the room. Wren had broken through to the outside.

  “Sarai!” Bannor called.

  “Here!” she yelled back.

  Bannor rushed to her as Irodee snapped orders. Six armored men charged into the smoke where Wren had disappeared.

  The doors shrieked as the hinges tore from their moorings.

  Bannor pulled Sarai up and propelled her through the still smoldering opening in the kirika’s back wall. They emerged into the faint dawn light. It no longer rained, but the wind continued to shriek in their faces. The trees swayed and groaned in a chaotic dance. Leaves and dust swirled. Despite the poor visibility, through the vibrating trees Bannor saw dozens of figures closing in.

  Laramis and Irodee ducked through sundered wall behind him followed by more warriors. Steel clashed off to the left, and something howled. The Queen and Janai emerged last followed by Corrd who carried Meliandri’s inert body over his shoulder.

  “I’ll clear us a path!” The Queen yelled over the wind. She raised her black scepter. Sparks crackled down its length. She swung the rod and a crimson ball shot from the weapon. When the sphere hit, it exploded in a burst of flames and smoke.

  In the brief illumination, Bannor saw a score of the avatar’s twisted
creatures glow white and disintegrate into ash. The wind scattered their remains.

  Laramis and Irodee charged into the still-burning trees killing the monsters stunned by the blast.

  “Bannor! Behind you!” Kalindinai warned.

  He grabbed Sarai and sprang away as a giant club crashed into the ground behind them. He rolled and turned to face three hulks lumbering to attack. Each of the hairy creatures stood twice his height, with tree-stump arms and legs.

  Bannor’s heart raced as he checked Sarai. She appeared unhurt as she crouched and yanked a knife from her belt. Right then, they’d come within a hair of dying. It made a fire burn inside him. He despised this fight. Hated seeing Sarai at risk. To end this war, he must not only fight back, but also destroy the enemy.

  He lunged under the first ogre’s swing, and chopped its exposed knee with his axe. The strike knocked the huge humanoid off balance. When the ogre twisted to stay upright, Bannor let out a yell and swung his axe into its undefended throat. Hot blood splashed on his chest and arms as he yanked down on his axe. The ground shook as the monster slammed into the turf. Bannor dodged to avoid another attack. The massive club pulped the head of the one he knocked down.

  Sarai yelled. She used the attacking ogre’s weapon like a bridge, running up its club and arm to get within reach of the head. The monster let out a bone rattling bellow when she plunged her dagger into its face. As the creature flailed, she grabbed a fistful of the behemoth’s hair and swung over its shoulder. Her weight snapping against the back of its head forced the ogre to topple.

  The third creature swung at Sarai, and she sprang away. The giant mallet hammered the ogre she’d knocked over, smashing its chest with a sound like shattering rock. Bannor took the opportunity to thrust his dagger into the attacking ogre’s unguarded hip. The thing roared and swung at him.

  Bannor danced out of range. On the other side, Sarai pounced, ripping into its knee twice with her dagger. The monster howled in pain and frustration. From behind Bannor, two arrows hissed overhead and thudded into the confused creature’s throat and forehead. He and Sarai dashed away as the ogre collapsed.

  Veeg. Victory. Vindication. This is how Hecate’s challenge must be answered. Three down, thousands to go. Bannor turned to thank the archer for the assist. To his surprise, he saw it was Janai holding the bow.

  “Stop playing with those ogres and come on!” she shouted.

  They followed the older princess as she raced into the trees set on fire by the Queen’s magic. On either side, Irodee’s warriors hacked away at demons trying to cut off their escape.

  Ahead, bright flashes lit the forest followed by claps of thunder. Orienting on the light, they scrambled through undergrowth slashing at the distorted humanoids that barred the way.

  The Nola burned in Bannor’s mind. They must win this fight, must get through to the gate. No one else lay close enough to attempt to destroy the dimensional doorway. As they ran, he glanced over the hills to the black shaft splitting the southern sky. Thousands of creatures had already spilled through that titanic opening. The center must hold. Each soldier in the troop was vital to their having enough strength to reach the gate.

  Bannor surrendered to the anger seething in him, let it drive his arms and legs. He imagined each strike as a vindication for the lives taken by avatar’s obscene minions.

  They fought for what seemed like leagues, a running battle that took them down bramble choked ravines, across streams, and through tangled copses of trees. Bannor’s chest burned, and his heart labored. He lost count of the hideous faces of those he killed. His arms throbbed from cuts and scratches.

  Irodee’s warriors discarded their armor in favor of speed. He and Sarai dropped back to protect Corrd who labored under Meliandri’s weight. After their group punched through the enemies encircling them, Wren and Irodee fell back to assist the rear guard. Laramis and a few of the bigger men from the troop took turns carrying the stricken healer.

  By the time the horde gave up pursuit, Irodee and Janai had emptied three quivers. Bannor’s skin was lost beneath a sheath of caked-on enemy blood. Many of the troops crackled as they moved, crusts of blood having hardened on their clothing.

  The sun lay above the trees when the troop staggered into a clearing by a crescent-shaped lake ringed with split boulders and reed patties. Gasping for air, limbs twitching with exhaustion they tumbled to a stop. Bannor collapsed in the grass with Sarai next to him. The wind blew chill against his perspiring face. His eyes stung and swallowing hurt.

  Wren, shoulders slumped, blonde hair matted and stained trudged among the warriors taking a count. Her shredded tunic and breeches looked ready to fall off. “All accounted for,” she reported. “The gods must be smiling on us.”

  He rocked his head and sighed. The center had held-for now.

  Laramis pushed to his elbows and pointed a finger at the savant. Where everyone else looked grimy, only a few spots marked the paladin’s clothing and armor. “You doubted, Milady?”

  “No sermons, please. I couldn’t take it now.” Wren tumbled down next to Janai and Queen.

  “Hope you’re—happy,” Janai mumbled, rubbing an ugly scratch on her neck. “I’ll be—scarred for life now.”

  “Don’t be so immature,” Kalindinai huffed. “A princess—needs a few marks. Forges character.”

  The princess groaned.

  Sarai’s laugh turned into a cough. Streaks of different colored stains ran down her cheeks like war tattoos. “Actually—it’s good—to see you stabbing—something else in the back—for a change!”

  “Wait till we’re back home, sister.”

  It seemed odd to laugh after witnessing so much death, but Bannor knew that after a battle warriors must either laugh or cry. The façade of humor focused minds away from the horror of feeling death’s sickle at your throat. With the war still ahead, no one could afford to have their courage shaken.

  “How in Hades did they find us so fast?” he demanded.

  “That explosion you set off last night in town was probably seen for leagues.” Wren grumbled. “They just tracked us.”

  Bannor felt a flush of embarrassment. “Oh.”

  “Not to worry,” Laramis said. “No one blames you for being angered by that horror.”

  “What I want to know,” said Sarai “is how Corrd knew Bannor from the doppelgänger.”

  Irodee tapped someone in the grass near her. She asked something in Elvish.

  Corrd struggled to a sitting position and grinned over at Bannor. “Smelled—quetzal.”

  Sarai sighed and rolled her head against him. “I hope you’re not offended because I couldn’t tell the difference.”

  Bannor gave her a one-eyed stare and kissed her on the cheek. “Insulted? Why? Because you couldn’t tell the difference between me and some scaly, gray, mind-sucking vermin?”

  Sarai poked him in the ribs.

  He smiled and kissed her on the lips. She tasted salty, and he still detected hints of the bittersweet quetzal. He lay back and turned to look toward the avatar’s gate. The black spire stabbed into the sky in the distance like some immense dagger. Clouds roiled around it.

  He felt a pressure on his hand and saw that she’d turned her attention to where he was looking.

  “How will we do it? There must be a million creatures between us and that portal!” He drew a breath feeling the ache deep in his chest. “Hecate will start destroying more towns soon.”

  “We fought through that,” Laramis said. “We can do it again. There shall soon be distractions aplenty to cover our approach.”

  Bannor looked over at the paladin. “How do you know?”

  “Trust me, my friend,” Laramis replied. “A sign came to me in the night.” He put his hand behind Irodee’s head and gave her a kiss.

  * * *

  When bribes, trickery, death threats and torture fail, there’s always the direct approach…

  —From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’

  Ch
apter Sixty-Two

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  With Irodee and Laramis in the lead, the troop trudged along the base of steep ridge. The vertical face loomed over them like a cresting wave. All morning the wind had lashed their backs with icy gusts, and pelted them with flurries of rain. Knowing that every moment counted, they rested by the lake long enough to get their breath back, refill water skins, and wash off battle grime.

  Then they headed for the avatar’s black spire driven by a disturbing revelation. Irodee and her soldiers who had lived in the shadow of the rift for tendays noted that the blackness was growing. More creatures poured through it every day. In a tenday, its size had increased by half and so had the flow of reinforcements. They must shut the gate before it became impossible to do so.

  Their problem lay not only in getting to the rift, but closing it safely. Wren explained how if the gate suddenly collapsed it would rip a leagues-deep hole in the land, causing lava and ash to pour from the wound. The burning blood of the world would erupt in a devastating tide, smothering the surface in a sheath of basalt.

  Bannor stared at the ebony thing writhing in the southern sky. As he studied its swirling patterns with his Nola, he still sensed that the portal was vulnerable. What was wrong? Why couldn’t he describe what his Nola gave him an intuitive sense of?

  This rift looked leagues high and wider than a canyon. Being so huge, it should have an obvious linchpin, something vital they could capitalize on to sabotage it’s functioning.

  So big. Where did the power come from to keep it open? How could anything, even a pantheon lord, control such immense forces?

  The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. Suddenly, he couldn’t take in air. “Odin. They’re not controlling it!”

  “Pardon?” Sarai asked, looking over.

  Bannor gripped her arms. “That’s the weakness!” His stomach knotted and icy fingers played down his spine.

  “Wren!” he screamed. “Wren! Hold up!” He turned and ran. The soldiers stared as he sprinted to where Wren, Irodee, and Laramis turned to look back. Tripping over rocks and bracken, he fought his way along the narrow trail until he reached the savant.