The Shoreless Sea

by J. Scott Coatsworth

  The blue skies were gone, replaced by heavy cloud cover. How strange it was to see clouds that extended from one side of the world to the other, instead of being confined to the spindle.

  Ham alighted on his shoulder. “Comes, quickly. There’s not much time.” He took off toward the high end of the valley, and Kiryn ran after him.

  There was a narrow path through the grass where the blades had been beaten down over time. He followed it, jogging up and over small hills and down into narrow dales.

  This place was as empty as the highlands outside Thyre. Emptier, actually, as there was no promise of a farmstead over the next hill or the city itself in the distance.

  As he ran, the land shifted. The valley seemed much longer than it had from the window of the tower, and the grass was losing some of its color.

  Maybe it was just the gray skies.

  He paused to pick a blade of grass and held it up to the dim light.

  It was actually becoming translucent, the color leaching out of it as he watched, leaving just a strange network of connected lines.

  He looked at his own hand, alarmed. It too was becoming clear at the edges.

  “Hurry!” Ham swept by, his wings flapping in alarm.

  He was joined by a whole flock of the black birds, all winging their way up toward the end of the valley.

  Kiryn dropped the blade and resumed his run, frightened now. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t a natural part of this world. The loop would just as likely erase him from existence as create him anew on the other side.

  At last the upper edge of the valley neared. He ran up the pathway toward the ridge and spared a glance behind him. The valley seemed to be melting, its colors running into one another like tallow over the fire.

  He was light-headed, his tongue thick in his mouth like it was stuffed with paper.

  “Almost there.” Ham flitted by his ear again, and even he seemed translucent.

  Kiryn struggled up the slope, grasping at the dirt to try to pull himself up the last couple of feet.

  The birds were all around him now, flapping by in a confusion of black wings and bright yellow beaks.

  They spun around above him in a tighter and tighter circle.

  Kiryn’s feet were melting away. He opened his mouth and screamed, clawing at the edge of the world. He reached for Destiny again, desperate for help. Where are you?

  The birds cawed as one and slammed into each other with great force.

  There was a blinding flash, and then a hand reached down to take his, to pull him up from the abyss. It lifted him up from the madness, its grip firm and strong.

  Kiryn glanced behind himself.

  The valley was in chaos, a tumult of yellows and grays and greens and blues, like the palette of a giant painter where the colors had all run together into a muddied mess.

  The hand pulled, lifting him out of the world as it collapsed in on itself. It deposited him on a white plain that swirled with gray mists.

  “Where… where are we?” Kiryn looked down, happy to see his body was once again whole and solid.

  The redheaded man who had saved him grinned. “The middle place. Between the worlds.”

  “You’re… Jackson. Jackson Hammond.” It shouldn’t have been such a surprise. This was the man whom they were here searching for, after all.

  Jackson nodded. “We don’t get many visits from the outside anymore.”

  “You… you know about the outside?”

  Jackson nodded. “I’m the part of Jackson who created these worlds. I know a lot of things. What I don’t know is just who you are and why you are here.”

  Kiryn held out his hand. “I’m Kiryn Hammond. Your great-grandson.” He enjoyed the man’s look of surprise as Jackson took his hand again. “Happy to finally meet you.”

  Chapter Nine: Allies

  COLIN STEERED the balloon to a landing on the ledge in the middle of the vast North Pole wall, the ledge that provided access to the world mind.

  Andy stared at the entrance as they grew closer. Something was wrong.

  It was blocked by roots as thick as redwoods, crisscrossing the normally open space and closing it off as effectively as a gate.

  She was still unable to reach Aine. Andy hoped the mind had done this herself and that they weren’t already too late.

  “Looks like she’s barred the doors.” Colin watched over her shoulder.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “Do you have a key? Otherwise we just made this trip for nothing.”

  “Maybe.” She stared at the imposing wall as they closed in on the ledge.

  Shandra came up beside her and put her arm around Andy’s waist. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so.” She sighed. She felt old in her bones, tired. It would be nice if, just for once, the rest of the world could take care of itself.

  The basket touched down, guided by Colin’s expert hand, and he leapt out to tie it to a pole placed for that purpose.

  He opened the gate for them. “Ladies.”

  Something about that struck Andy wrong. It wasn’t like him. “Colin, where’s your sister today?”

  He looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t have a sister.”

  “Oh, sorry, my mistake. When you get as old as I am, things get muddled in the brain.”

  He laughed. “No problem. I just hope I’m as good-looking when I’m your age as you are.”

  Andy shook her head. Flatterer. Maybe she was overreacting. “Shall we get to it?”

  She approached the entrance to the Far Hold, the cavernous complex where the world mind lived. Why it was called that, she wasn’t sure. Colin—the original one—had mentioned something called Dungeons and Dragons once. Whatever that was.

  She put her hands on one of the wide roots that blocked the way, closing her eyes and seeking a connection to the world mind.

  There was something… a faint spark, maybe? But there was no response.

  She willed the root to move, and it did so grudgingly, rumbling as it slid back into the earth below the cavern, sealing the hole behind it.

  Andy wondered if Aine had blocked all the ways in so securely. It would have taken people with axes days to get through this. She was the only one who could pass easily to help the world mind defend itself.

  She touched another of the roots and it slid back as well, making a wide enough space for the three of them to squeeze through.

  Andy pulled out a luthiel lantern and lit it with her striker.

  The tunnel was dark inside compared to the spindle’s light, though the caverns were lined with enough glowmoss to provide a dim luminescence.

  There had been no humans stationed here since Davian had almost destroyed the world, only occasional visitors like Andy and her kind, and the amenities had become neglected.

  Holding the lantern aloft, Andy slipped between the remaining roots into the darkness.

  THE TWO enforcers dumped Gordy unceremoniously on the floor of what could only be described as a throne room. His wounded hand hit the ground and sent a spasm of pain up his arm.

  The floor pulsed with light, bands of color running across it like one of the old-time disco dance floors.

  He pushed himself up on his good hand to look around. The room was dim, but at its center was the throne, a huge silver chair that looked like it had been sculpted from a single piece of the metal. Or maybe cast from one.

  It was polished to a high sheen—or maybe it was somehow liquid. Its surface seemed to shift of its own accord, the reflections of colored light making it hard to get a good look at its form.

  A sudden wave of nausea overwhelmed him, dropping him back to the ground. He retched, but nothing came out. It passed as quickly as it had come, leaving him with the rancid taste of stomach acid in his mouth.

  Raina touched him with her boot. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “I will be.” He pushed himself up again and tried to stand, but Raina shoved him back down to the ground. “Kneel. Zaimann come
s.”

  The lights turned on in the room, revealing a wide-open space that was far shabbier under bright light than it had seemed in the dimness. The magical lights were some sort of LED strips tacked to the wooden floorboards, and the black walls were old and scarred with scuffs and stains.

  Broken wooden rails along the walls indicated it might once have been a dance studio.

  But the throne… that was still something strange and new to him.

  In the bright light, it was even more confounding, sucking in the light and continually flowing and changing as he looked at it.

  A door opened on one side of the hall with a loud groan, and Raina knelt next to him, forcing his head to the ground with her hand. “Say nothing until Zaimann speaks to you directly.” Her hiss was sharp with implied danger.

  Footsteps crossed the room, and Gordy risked a quick glance to see the slender legs, covered in tight black leather, and the clawed feet—or paws?—that passed in front of him.

  He’d heard tales of Zaimann, the leader of the Hex. She’d been human once but had modified herself piece by piece until she was something altogether different. On the outside, at least.

  Her paw lifted his chin, her claws digging into the flesh of his neck. “Rise.” The voice was rough, almost a growl.

  He did as he was told, keeping his gaze on the ground.

  “What have you brought me today, Raina?” He heard her settle down onto her throne.

  The voice sent a shiver down Gordy’s back. There was something—carnal?—feral?—about it, something that made him think really bad thoughts.

  “We found this one slinking around the skyways. Says he’s a new recruit, from Atlanta.”

  Zaimann rumbled, what might have been a laugh. “Show me his file.”

  Raina stepped forward. There was a pause as she transferred the information. Then she stepped back to stand beside Gordy.

  He was hyperaware of the armed women at his back and the barrel of the LAS-AR rifle pushed into his spine. He’d trained with them in his former life and knew how lethal the sustained pulses could be. Their force could be contained in a short field of fire, making them deadly and effective even in a semicrowded room.

  “Interesting. Gormin Johanssen. Look at me, boy.”

  Gordy looked up.

  She was beautiful. Stunning, in fact.

  If a fox could have shifted to take on human form, Zaimann would have been the result.

  Red fur lined her arms and legs, and she was taller and thinner than baseline humans. Her face had been elongated into a snout, but instead of being grotesque, it was elegant, intentional, perfectly suited to what she had become. Her ears tilted toward him with interest, and her tail, sprouting from under her black leather suit, twitched with annoyance.

  She stood, and the throne rippled like the surface of a pond after someone threw in a pebble.

  Her claws clacked on the wooden floor as she approached him.

  She put a paw under his chin again and lifted his head to meet her eyes. They were the eyes of a predator, hard and intelligent, seeking the truth out of him. “It’s a very good forgery, Mr. Johanssen. Or whoever you are.” Her claws touched his neck once again, sharp, but not breaking the skin.

  She let him go and spoke to the guards. “Leave us.”

  “But… he might be dangerous, your lordship.”

  Lordship. So that’s how you addressed a fox queen.

  “I can handle him. Do you… doubt me?” This time, her claws were at Raina’s neck.

  The woman paled and shook her head. “No, Zaimann.” She lowered her gaze.

  “Then leave me. I’ll call for you if I need you.” She let Raina go. The enforcers nodded as one and turned and left the room.

  He stared at her. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, even here in New York. “I’m not—”

  “I know what you are. Come with me. We need to talk.” Zaimann turned, and Gordy followed the fox queen out of the room.

  She led him through a side door, guarded by one of the enforcers, a man who sneered at him as he entered, but only after Zaimann could no longer see him.

  Gordy frowned but said nothing. Don’t make waves.

  The doors closed behind him, and he found himself in what had to be Zaimann’s own personal space. It was a long, wide room that ran along one side of the building. Where the windows had once been, something shimmered. Probably a force pane. Expensive. The place was sleek, new. Rich. It felt like a piece of old New York, before the floods, a tiny, glorious patch of concentrated wealth and technology.

  He whistled. “Nice place you have here.”

  She shot him a look over her shoulder. “You like it?”

  He nodded. “You have good taste.” He took a minute to admire her shapely fox hips too. He’d never had much of a taste for extreme body mods, but she’d done it right, and it must have cost her a sleeking fortune.

  Zaimann sauntered over to an antique cupboard that was out of place in the silver-and-white high-tech decor of the room. She waved her hand over it, and it split apart, rearranging itself and raising a crystal tray with a decanter and two glasses to her waist level.

  “Oh, cool.” Gordy blushed. He was still a kid at heart.

  “Please. Take a seat.” She indicated a white couch in the middle of the room.

  He did as he was told. The couch molded itself to his form. He squeaked, then covered his mouth.

  Zaimann poured some of the amber liquid into two of the glasses and held out one of them to him.

  He sniffed it suspiciously.

  She stared at him. “Seriously? If I wanted you killed, you would have been dead the moment I walked in the door.” She sat down, her tail slipping out of her way.

  Gordy blushed. “Fair enough.” He took a sip. It was strong. “It’s… um… good.”

  Zaimann laughed and tasted her own. “Actually, it tastes like crap. Turns out you really can over-age your rum. This one is over two hundred years old.”

  “That must have cost you a fuckwad fortune.”

  Her tail flicked back and forth. Gordy watched in fascination.

  “Yes and no. I helped a businessman in Fargo with a… problem, and he was most grateful.” She set her glass aside. “You didn’t come here to chat about business deals and ass-tasting rum.” Her yellow eyes fixed on him. “You’re here from the outside, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just came up from Atlanta….”

  She was at his neck in an instant, a sharp blade pressed to his throat. “There is no Atlanta. Not in these worlds.”

  He stared at her, their eyes inches apart, frozen by her gaze. “No, ma’am.”

  She nodded and backed away. “Don’t mistake my congeniality for weakness.” The knife was gone.

  He stared at her, wondering where she kept it.

  She grinned a fox grin. “Now, tell me who you are and why you’re here. If I believe you, I might even help you.”

  He sighed. At least she wasn’t out-and-out crazy, like Lilith. “I really did come from here. From this New York. But it was a long time ago….”

  BELYNN BENT over, arms around herself and resting on her knees, staring blankly at the ground. She fought the sudden headache and nausea that had overtaken her. Something’s wrong.

  “So you’re telling me that everything I know… that this whole world I live in, it’s all an illusion?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had no attention to spare for Cast’s anger.

  “I’m not real? What does that make you?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t….” Kiryn. He was in danger. Something was happening. Pain stabbed her gut, and she fell to the ground clutching her stomach. “Kiryn!”

  She reached for Destiny. Something’s gone wrong!

  She was vaguely aware of Cast kneeling at her side, shouting something.

  His world is looping. I can’t reach him. Destiny sounded scared too.

  It’s going to be o
kay. Although Belynn was far from certain of that fact. What happens to one of us when the world loops back to the start?

  I don’t know. Destiny sounded lost, ten years old. Wait… it’s… I think he’s okay.

  You think?

  No, he’s okay. I can sense him again, though I still can’t reach him.

  Belynn’s nausea ebbed. What happened? She was overcome by a sense of relief almost as disabling as the sick feeling.

  Something… or someone… helped him. I can’t reach him, but I can feel him.

  “Thank Saint Ana.” She opened her eyes to find Cast staring at her, his brown eyes narrow with worry. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. But I think we’re running out of time.” She had no idea if these worlds looped around the same time, but it would make sense. Maybe it was why Lilith had chosen this moment to wage her latest intifada. She took Cast gently by the arms. “Look, where did you come from, before Fargo?”

  “I grew up in… I was born… I….” He stared at her, his face a mask of confusion. “I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

  “It’s okay. Just breathe.” She’d guessed that would be the case. “When was the last time you left Fargo?”

  He concentrated and then scowled. “I can’t remember that either. Oh God. Did you do something to me?” He scrambled away from her. “What did you do to me?”

  “You can’t remember those things because they never happened for you. Only this place—Fargo—is real for you.” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Where do you work?”

  “Optex Dreamagineering, downtown.”

  “What did you have for lunch yesterday?”

  “A pham sandwich with cheese and a Fizzpop.”

  She nodded. “See? You can remember all the real things. All the things that happened to you. This you.”

  “What other me is there?” He was white as a sheet, but at least he’d stopped backing away.

  “You and this whole city… you’re inside a biomind.”

  He shook his head. “It can’t be.”

  “I can show you.” Mother Ana, I hope this works. “Will you let me?” She stood and approached him slowly, her hands open at her sides.