Fitted in a gray Italian suit, Bastion stood and walked to the center of the circle. He spoke with a magnified voice found only in dreams.
“As you have just heard, Gaulic interference is at levels without precedence. They would have us believe the Bohemian legends have some kind of truth to them.”
Ganzai, fifth Son of Pablo in the southern realms of the Americas, cleared his throat.
“Is it possible they’ve learned to combine their benders?”
Bastion shook his head. “There was only one. Cameras confirmed that. He had to be carried out, suggesting a tremendous effort.”
Maria de Oro, Sequence Three of Grecian Royalty, suggested the priests may have achieved the feat in stealth. “Volgograd is close to achieving combining. If the priests have already succeeded, we need to know. I recommend we go back to investigate further. The hospital staff will have received stray impressions. We can learn more from them.”
Bastion turned to Maria. “And thereby prevent J86 execution for Tokyo? Your veiled philanthropy is duly noted.”
In the distance, a large serpentine figure launched from the water. Its shadow blocked the sun’s rays before it fell back with a great splash. Bastion paced the platform. He pulled a cigarette case from his jacket and prepared to smoke.
“Oh please,” Maria said. “Either they have the most powerful telekinetic in history or they’ve learned to combine their benders. We need to know which is the case. And no, I don’t think J86 for the world’s most populated city is at all appropriate for the situation.” She looked around the circle. “Do any of you?”
Bastion stopped pacing and faced Maria. “They need to know how stupid they are for playing the prophecy game. The Conflict they dream of will cost them dearly. We establish that now.”
“I’ve an idea,” Ganzai said. “If it is just one gifted man, and frankly I suspect it is this Austin fellow, then lure him in. Use the girl’s core as bait. If he eludes us, then use J86. One lost city should get them in line again. Tokyo’s the largest but I’d hate to see all that lost. Pick another – Toronto or Hanoi or Johannesburg. Follow with threats of more. They will have to cave. They simply must.”
Some nodded their approval.
Maria said, “If they believe they have their Change, they won’t cave. They will press forward to their destiny.”
“Then they press into death.” Bastion flashed memory of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. “We are in control, Maria. Destiny is ours to make, not theirs.”
Nora Brennan, the quiet patroness of Eastern lands, rose a thin voice. “What about A2?” she asked. “Peter Brusse. He stole Cathbad and Austin from Shang’s own dream and held us at bay from the yakuza boss.”
“Surprise accounts for the former, poor coordination for the latter. I have no doubt that we’ll take him down. Oscar, what work has been done to identify Peter Brusse?”
Overseer, following the proceedings via Bastion’s neural linkage, checked the logs.
“G3 processed DNA recovered from Den Helder multilaterally against international police, prison, military, and medical databases. No matches were found and no further processing was requested.”
“Why no record for him?” Nora asked. “Or has Oscar been breached?”
Overseer responded. “The DNA sample has not been fully processed against G1’s Gaul roster.”
“What?” Bastion demanded. “What do you mean ‘not fully processed’? That’s the first database to check!”
“The default query for that database contains an exclusion filter for deceased members having died more than twenty years ago.”
Bastion caught his rising anger. Instead he forced a sigh and stared directly into the orange sun resting on the hills. Large black sun spots bloomed on its surface, dimming its rays.
“Determine the origin of the filter, then run the query without it.” He turned to Maria. “Another example, no? If this continues, I’ll have Oscar expand and run it all.”
“Who’s to say it wasn’t Oscar’s fault?” she asked.
As if waiting for the remark, Overseer responded.
“The exclusion filter was created six years ago and has been utilized periodically by various directors. The most recent application was ordered on April 22nd, 2015, by Director Henley. This director was terminated May 3rd, 2015, after the Coalition Incident.”
“Henley, yes. And no one removed the filter since? Delete it and allow no restrictions on that database without my approval.”
“Acknowledged. The query returned one match. Peter Brusse is Gerrit Bartel, son of Vincent and Juliana Bartel. His parents were trainers for the Gaulics and specialized in mind-body attunement and dream control. Their mortification was scheduled for and executed on September 12, 1978. The boy was pre-Initiate and allowed to live. He was raised by his grandparents outside the Runa Korda and disappeared ten years later. Records of Gerrit’s birth are absent from all public databases for unknown reasons. He has avoided documentation since.”
“That explains some of it,” Bastion said. “I want him captured or dead. Focus on drawing Austin in, as well. I want him alive. If anyone comes up with ideas better than Ganzai’s, let me know immediately. In the meantime, pay close attention and keep your guards in place. Anything more?”
Cormac raised a question. “Overseer bypassed CoreOps in suggesting the system-wide detection of the controller. Should we be concerned? Or have new protocols been adopted?”
Bastion nodded. “Neuristics is looking into it. No need for concern. The safeguards allow for rollback of the AI at any juncture. Now, anything else? No? Then we adjourn. Thank you.”
One by one the Executives winked out of existence. As always, Maria de Oro was the last to share the dream with him.
“So quick to use violence, Bastion. You must know others see that as a weakness. A sign of unmanaged fear.”
A ring of lights in the platform began to glow in the gathering dusk. Orchestral music rose from the waters around them.
He walked over to her. “You’re mistaken, Maria. It is simply impatience, not fear. Their impetuousness must be addressed. I see benefit in destruction where you do not.”
“Oh I understand the benefits, but I also understand moderation. Too often, you don’t.”
He stared into her eyes. “Moderation. How far from that to reconciliation? To sharing control?”
Maria shook her head. The implication that she would advocate sharing control with the druids was a dangerous one. Though brilliant, he was not without delusions – delusions that seemed to be growing in size and frequency.
“Asset management, Bastion, has absolutely nothing to do with treason.” She held his gaze firmly. “Killing Tokyo is wasteful and dilutes control. It is balance we seek, remember? Focus on the targets and use force wisely. That is the proper response.”
He slowly nodded before walking the circular platform. “We’ll use the AGTs. Austin’s capture and our study of him will resolve the issue.”
“And this dream maestro?”
He waved dismissively. “We saw this in the girl, remember? He is as inexperienced as she and just as distracted. More so, perhaps. I detect quite an ego. I’ve already received the after action on the Shang incident. Foster’s group says they’ve broken it down and are on top of his technique. We wait for his next move and then lynch him. With a horde if need be.”
“Something tells me start with the horde.” She looked away, across the now murky water to the hills. Shadows stole their color, a precursor of the darkness to come.
• • •
Existence would end the way she thought it might. Inevitably and simply. Under the motionless sun, lying on the heat-baked sand and dead palm leaves, the blackness would eventually converge on the shores of the little turd of an island. Once her refuge from the searchers, it would become her dying place. Sadness for the little boy surpassed that for herself.
Introduced shortly before the trap at the forest clearing, she and the boy had connected imm
ediately. His fear and longing for home mirrored her own. She’d already lost so much of herself to General Shang and didn’t want him to suffer the same. When the chance came, she’d taken it, shearing from the dream. He’d hung to her side at every subsequent jump, through every scene, adapting as fast as she had. Despite not having spoken a single word, he remained with her, trusting in her every move.
What small sense of reality she retained seemed artifact now as she stared at the black clouds looming. Ten miles out? It had begun as a blurring of the horizon, slowly growing into a storm approaching from all sides. With it came a sense of endlessness, a palpable sensation pervading the dream. Ryota had stared and stared, his little eyes seeming to read more from the clouds than she could. The one glance he gave her before retreating to the palms conveyed only sadness. Changing again was pointless and he knew it, too. The black wall of clouds was meant to make them run. She felt the trap, felt their certainty. Running would only give them pleasure, some kind of benefit.
Lying on her back, she squinted into the blue, ignoring the tempest bearing down. The sun shimmered with a familiarity born of years under its gaze. It wasn’t hard to forgive its punishing rays because of the reminder of home it offered. The island itself, though, had become a symbol of her desolation, of the end. For the millionth time, doubts about breaking away from Austin resounded. Too rash? Hurt or helped him? Had it paid off? Was he safe? Knowing she’d saved him would mean everything.
Instead, there was too much room for doubt. Time was nearly gone. In its place the endlessness grew, an indistinct and troubling perception. The next shift would be a leap into the blackness, into whatever ending neared. She closed her eyes.
Time.
Tears formed, hot with regret. She hadn’t had time.
Chapter 18
If one has to jump a stream and knows how wide it is, he will not jump.
If he doesn’t know how wide it is, he’ll jump and six times out of ten, he’ll make it.
- Persian Proverb
Hard wood floors reflected the flames dancing in the massive stone fireplace. A dozen candles flickered to light the corners of the great study. Dawn’s gray filtered through window slits cut into the stone wall. Cathbad stood by the fire lost in thought.
Many times the Comannda had managed ingress into their ranks, swatting with deathly effect. Such encounters bore lessons, one of the most important being division. Later interrogations would have meant the collapse of the Family if not for the learned segmentation of the units and the ability to scatter and reform. Still, any hierarchy had its binding roots, even if only visible from on high. Bringing the Change to Cullstone might be frowned upon by others, just as sending Austin to Tokyo had been. As leader of the Korda he was used to criticism yet at this point he’d begun to have his own doubts. There was no guidance, no definitive Words to use going forward. It was his own interpretation of the trackways guiding his choices and the trackways were weak and numerous. No matter how they prepared, the Conflict was going to be a chaotic affair whose duration or outcome wasn’t even hinted at.
In one thing the Words were clear: the Change would do things their way. Edward’s contingent had fled Shamrock only to encounter a barricade staffed by four black ops G3. Johan’s masterful application of Pons’ techniques on all four guards simultaneously allowed them to drive around the blockade without the guards ever acknowledging their presence.
Legends were born from feats such as that, just as they were from Austin’s incredible work in Tokyo. They signaled first dawn in the Conflict; perhaps the last clear signs that the old Words were in alignment. The news had already spread hope and unification throughout the Family. The enemy’s wireless communication network had been compromised and their network would likely soon follow. These were the times he’d dreamt of and worked towards. Surely the Lord of the Wood was watching over them closely and influencing events. To lose faith now was to jeopardize hope itself.
He turned from the fire and cast about the room. For the hundredth time he missed Mug’s presence. Still sallow with grief, he strayed to a window. The surrounding emerald hills glistened in the muted light of morning. The single ribbon of road crested and disappeared in a shroud of mist that held the valley.
He sighed, hoping to expel the growing weakness from his bones and from his spirit. Creative DNA sequencing extended the major systems but did little for a soul too long in the world. A familiar division resounded, threatening resolve. Half of him yearned for the songs of the Faerie, for release from his mortal shell. The other half wanted to grind the face of every High Comannda to dust, to hear the hammer of Truth ringing across the heavens, releasing humanity from its bindings. The danger inherent in both desires permeated every thought. To flee was to abandon the planet to peril and chance. To fight was to risk conveying the wrath of the Comannda to the nations of Earth. If only the Mu could take a stand...
With a jerk of his head he dismissed thoughts of abandoning the fight or being rescued. Weakness of spirit, indeed. The Change was at hand. There was hope.
The sudden rising drone of an engine preceded a biplane dropping into view from over the top of the castle. The yellow-bodied relic soared down and over the field, banked lazily and settled onto the green with practiced ease. Bradley O’Connell turned the craft around and stopped it near the driveway. In the second seat, Johan rubbed his chilled face before climbing down. Williams came out to welcome him and to greet the old pilot again. The warmth of their exchange touched Cathbad.
A moment later, Anki dashed into view and exploded into Johan’s arms. He smiled despite himself.
• • •
Beyond the village of Killearn, the two-lane road stretched from Glasgow’s outer edge towards the misty hills and lochs of the north. Acceleration welded Austin to his seat as Sean engaged the Vauxhall’s 6.2 liter V8. The druid wore his mirrored shades despite the gray morning.
“Don’t worry. The road knows me,” Sean said.
He chuckled then grew quiet. “No word on Kaiya then.”
“No.”
They passed ivy-draped mills and clapboard houses surrounded in mist. Green fields rolled by, occasionally split by creeks and wooden bridges. Sheep and goats grazed on grass laden with dew. If England felt graceful, Scotland was timeless.
“Edward said she might have broken free but wouldn’t know how to return. If she’s not being held, that would make her sort of a ghost, wouldn’t it?” he asked. “Wandering?”
“Brave conclusion, that. If Edward is right, she’s in danger of being led to Gwynvyd. What you would call heaven. Wandering in Saoghal, dream to dream, she’ll eventually go beyond, yes. They’ll come for her.”
“They?”
Sean shook his head, downshifted into a curve, and pulled g-forces coming out of it. The druid wouldn’t elaborate. Couldn’t? Goose bumps pricked his arms at the thought of Kaiya wandering lost in a nether world of dreams.
“They who, Sean? Angels?”
“Something like that. She’d go the way of Mug.”
No. Johan had to seek her out now. It would be a condition going forward. A requisite.
The road grew more winding and hugged the shores of a loch. Steep hills and patchwork forests surrounded the deep lake. An occasional country home rested nearby in the majesty of the land. They rode in silence, the pitched growl of the Vauxhall the only sound.
He thought of Kaiya, tried to reach out to her. Imagination or not, it seemed he could feel her. If it really were her, she felt sad, deeply sad. He squelched the flow of guilt that followed, knowing it was a wasted expression. If he had failed her, guilt would have its day.
A crest in the road revealed a quarter-mile expanse of green bowled in on three sides by tall, forested hills. A sprawling brown stone castle sat nestled at the far end. Out front, a yellow biplane dotted the lawn.
Sean looked over. “Welcome to Cullstone.”
The morning mists surrendered to a sun that shone around clouds. Lunch was ta
ken in the nearby hills reached by horseback. Cathbad insisted they enjoy the afternoon with no concerns for other matters. The directive sat well with the group with only a couple of indirect violations. When Anki’s horse became agitated, Austin spooked it further when he tried to calm it from within.
“Practice later,” was Cathbad’s response.
They returned to Cullstone’s stables as long shadows fell over the meadow but before the mists returned. They took dinner in the study and Cathbad used the time to tell stories of the successes and setbacks in the last few centuries.
The breadth of influence allowed by the meta arts was further detailed. Used on people at the highest levels of conventional government, G2’s techniques swayed opinion by subversion and coercion and made control of world events almost academic. Crafting public opinion had always been their strength and priority, as was keeping themselves untouchable and unknowable. The rise of humanity’s knowledge and innovative thinking became the challenge. Curious minds always sought to discover more. Technology allowed the injection of both violent and non-violent controls and revealed that humankind was as easily programmed as any computer. On the whole they were as predictable, too. The Korda’s efforts to alter the paradigm posed severe risks – those who enjoyed control would not easily have it taken away. Achieving balance between survival and progressive change was a constant battle for the Family. Cathbad shared three particular stories of daring counter-Comannda operations that left Austin feeling more obligated to help them than ever, despite resentment for the delay in helping Kaiya. The past could not be allowed to become the future, especially when there was so much potential otherwise.
Williams traded Austin’s empty plate for a full stein. Johan, Anki, and Sean sat on the next couch while Cathbad sat at his desk. Conversation halted when a young man entered with a violin and bow in hand. He took up position amidst the candles and with a nod from Cathbad began a soulful, entreating solo. Williams returned with a mug of his own to sit next to Austin.
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