by Grant Fausey
"We'll have to sure up that opening in the ceiling, before they return,” said Travis. He turned to Avenall. “It's the only way of keeping those things out..."Avenall looked around to the families huddled together in the darkest corners. The young children buried in their mother's arms, fearful of every moving shadow.
Hatchlings lay dead on the floor, stakes driven through their bodies like driving rods. Travis kicked one aside, running back through the temple in search of Gem and his son. Avenall couldn't move Bevin; she was bleeding to death right in front of him. The wound was wide and cut deeply into the shoulder above her breast, so he ripped a piece of her shirt away and applied it as a tourniquet to the injury trying to stop the bleeding. "Hang on––" he said, solemnly, trying to comfort the dying woman. "I have to pull out the stinger, before I can heal the wound––just hang on!"
Avenall pulled his knife, pressed it against her breast, forcing the end of the stinger to the surface. He gripped it with his fingers and yanked it out. Bevin screamed. "I have it, Bevin," he said softly, enduring his bedside manner. "Don't you die on me now!"
Avenall padded the wound, covering it with another rag from the torn edge of his shirt. He put his arm under her head and lifted her as he endeavored to make her as comfortable as possible, but there wasn't much more he could do. He carried her the length of the corridor into a large circular room, passing through the confines of another distortion wave. A minimum amount of time had passed, but it could’ve been years. No one knew when the waves would come, or how long they would last.
Avenall laid her down upon a large, nearly round table, backing away as others drew around her in a knightly fashion. They stood together, both men and women. Knights around the table, united in a single cause. Each pulled their medallions from around their necks, holding them out in front of the injured. Young Gayla bonded at her mother's side, pulling at her arm, while the others slipped her medallion from under her blood stained clothing to gently lay it on her chest, covering the wound.
Avenall took Gayla by the hand and moved her away from her mother to a point beyond the ring of knights. Together they watched as the others summoned forth the powers of the Source's eternal light. A luminance approximating a brilliant sun formed around the armor in a radiant glow. The light expanded about them, filling the interior of the temple as they chanted. The light flowed through them and into the medallion upon Bevin's chest; her body set aglow in the fading light of the knights.
Shroom watched, as the glow of Bevin's body became a fine aura of blue-white about her; one by one, the darkened knights retreat away from the rounded edge of the table, falling into the shadows of the chamber. Gayla smiled at her mother. It was a little girl's smile to make all things better and with it, time passed again. A distortion wave passed through the center of the room as Gayla touched her mother's face, feeling the warmth of her body. It had rested in the same position for nearly twenty years by some standards of time, but to Gayla it was nearly a lifetime; Bevin didn't look a day older, she hadn't aged a day.
Her daughter's tears had vanished. Gayla had grown into a woman long ago, crying at her mother's side; the good little girl she wanted now searched the silence of her body. Her womanhood lay suspended in a state of hibernation: a reanimation of neither living, nor dead, but rather entombed in the eternal light of Alvericon.
Life's teachings brought her a new revelation and the existence on the Nexusphere was now intolerable. The "Takers of life" were beasts now controlled Sodin, leaving no place for man, or machine to venture in safety. The Waspers outnumbered the humans by the billions and there was little hope of survival.
The heart of the rebellion passed centuries ago, and to Gayla it never really existed; at least, not in her world. It was true that she was no longer a child. The years of hard life had taken a toll on her, but nevertheless, she had grown into a woman despite the dangers. She was more Bevin and Travis knew it. She had mothered Gem for him, taking care of her during her receding teenage years. It was difficult for Travis, watching the women he loved regenerated into the youth of another age.
Twenty years was a long time to watch someone die a little at a time. Not even the power of the Verconian medallion could save her from her fate; the torments delivered to her by Trithen Kellnar were excruciating.
Travis knew the day would come when his enemy would return to the light of day and stand against the universe he had pledged to defend. It was a private war within him now––one that was very much a part of him. Everyone could see he would take great pleasure in killing Trithen Kellnar himself; however, there were more immediate problems to cope with, and surviving was still one of them. Travis wasn't sure that twenty years had even passed. It seemed to him that the first Wasper attack had happened only yesterday, but there was no way of telling for sure.
Time seemed to be random in the sphere of the Nexus. The Sodin side of the sphere shifted times zones, accelerating and decelerating. At any moment, he could see a day pass, sometimes days creep passed like years. It was all Travis could do to keep life straight. He was overburdened with the thought of his own existence. The future he stood for was nothing more than an experiment, like the world that surrounded him. Life was stalled then accelerated as if it circled itself in an endless loop, connecting at both ends.
Gayla walked away from him, leaving him to stand by her mother's tomb as she ran the length of a corridor heading back to the dungeon. The sounds of a meeting place filled the airwaves of the great hall with the laughter of children. With each step she took, she aged another day ... a year had passed in the time it took to reach the end of the inner court. Her short black hair swayed in the windy entrance, having grown to a length, which reached the middle of her back. She knew time had passed, but not how much. The meeting she ran to attend had ended long ago and the hall was empty. She wanted to cover her face, but she was afraid too. What if the room was filled with waspers and hatchlings? How would she evade the corridors and choose a path deeper inside the temple.
She approached it with caution. Silently checking, before opening the latch. There were the whispers of people. She was safe. "Have to hurry...." she shouted, racing down the steps to the dungeon at the bottom of the stairs. She leaped the last few steps and dashed across the room to the other side. Her shadow fluttered across the wall, cast along its tightly honed walls by the flame of a flickering campfire, which rose high into the rafters that formed the towering floor above them. She knelt down, quickly joining several darkened figures, watching with the same intense eyes she had as a child.
The group drew maps and plans upon the sandy floor of the temple. The fire that blazed before her, eerie cold to the touch, yet its light cast shadowy warmth upon the carved walls. The flame emitted no smoke and its rim no luminescence. This was a fire from the darkness that invaded the light. Gayla watched as the image of Travis appeared within the fire. Kristic looked up to her and her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open as he eyes gazed upon him. He was now a man, handsomely rugged and built solid as stonewalls of the dungeon. More time had passed than she realized.
He stood beside her as Maccon’s voice echoed in his mind. Indigo spoke as one being to the group from the image of Travis in the fire. "Last night," said Kristic, "the reconnaissance wasn't a complete loss. We discovered the entrance to the Acreen's Lair. The plan will work, if we can get inside and keep the leader busy long enough, we can find our way to Kellnar. He must be in the same area." Gayla looked up to the young man "Somehow we must keep my father alive," whispered Kristic.
Travis stayed at her mother's side; fallen, but healthy and strong: a handsome warrior. My mind ... she thought, whispering to herself, I'm losing my mind.
"It has to have been years. We don't even know if he's still human, Kristic. We're not getting any younger, ourselves. You've seen the others; look at Gayla for instance."
"We must find a way," whispered Kristic, looking at the image of his father in the flames with desperate eyes. "He has to be a
live. He just has too."
––– 41–––
NIGHTMARES
Travis woke in a sweat, sitting up in a panic. He was having another nightmare. "Shit," he whined, letting out a deep sigh as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "It's the future you see, Travis," said the same familiar voice. "Things to come."
"Maccon?" he asked.
"Yes, Travis. I was once Maccon."
"So–– you are real?"
"I'm as real as you are," Indigo told him
"What a nightmare!"
"It's not over yet. What you have foreseen is the delicate lines with which Kellnar is weaving the future. If he's not stopped, the Takers–of–life will rule us into oblivion."
Travis searched the curtains in his room, seeing the familiar shelves with his tools, books and toys, but there was nothing else, nothing that shattered the thoughts of the shallow stone of the temple and the war that raged in his head. It was a nightmare, all right. One that was real.
The early morning light shined through the opening between two large pyramids, revealing a beautiful sunrise above the mouth to the lair. The Acreen, Lukrin, emerged from the rubble, stretching until his dark shape towered twelve feet above the smallest pebble on the ground. His height gave him a full view of his surroundings; nothing stood in his way … the mountains where to the south, and the deserts to the north. Lukrin felt wild this morning; his face snarled as he picked his teeth with razor sharp fingernails. It was a good morning for a flight. He could feel the need to spread his wings on the cool currents of air and soar among the cloud. Like a winged Hound he soared into the sky leaving a cloud of dust behind. His razor sharp body sliced the air, piercing the heavens with the grace of a finely tuned fighter. In some ways, Lukrin was more graceful than mere beast; more than just a creature in a foggy vision. His head snapped to the side, pivoting with his body's twisting and turning maneuvers, until he plunged downward in a swoop toward the lair, nearing the ground in a widespread movement that ended with him rising high into the sky again.
Below him, tucked tightly into the twisted metal of a futuristic city in the upper world, the lair loomed open. Its mouth poised ready to swallow whatever ventured its way. Travis and Avenall slipped silently over the rim, dropping down by rope into the inner passages of the lair. The rope hit the ground first, followed by two pairs of feet. Avenall stepped away, turning around and around in every direction. This wasn't the time for surprises.
Travis struck a stone on the wall, listening for the noise of the impact. There wasn't so much as a ping. The walls absorbed every sound, blanking out every single noise within the lair.
"Careful," said Travis, but Avenall couldn't hear the words. They were most likely in the wrong place at the wrong time and every step was laced with danger. They would most likely make a wrong turn and find themselves face to face with their adversary before they realized it. Gayla and young Gem followed close behind, watching from the woods. Kristic was just ahead of them. He took a hold of the rope, pulling himself over the edge of the rim.
"When we get inside, free the captives," he said to the others. "It should make good cover for us. Some of them have been tucked away into sealed chambers for ages, so you'll probably have to revive them."
"Get back to the surface as quickly as you can," Kristic continued. The women nodded. "Don't stay in the lair. There's no telling what's going to happen. We'll be back as soon as we can." The rope tightened and Kristic slid down it into the lair.
"Be careful," said Gem. Travis followed Avenall deeper into the darkness. He looked back at Gem for one last moment, the disappeared into the dim light from above that quickly turned into shadow along the secreted edge of a wall, just below the ceiling. The surface dripped, running down into piles where slime formed small pools of liquid in the cracks in the ground.
Avenall tried to say something, but the words vanished as he mouthed them. Travis could see his lips moving, but he couldn't hear the sound. It was an eerie silence like another calm before the storm. The warrior stopped at the edge of the lair and took a step down, hitting the wall where the ground dropped away, disappearing over the edge of a short riser in the floor and fell away into a tunnel, pushed aside by the force of the wind. There was no way to communicate the danger. He tried making hand signals to Avenall, but to no avail; his fingers wouldn't move.
There was no choice but to reach out and grip his arm. The force of the wind was immeasurable, pinning him like a fly on flypaper. Trying to pull lose him from the edge of the wall was nearly impossible with no way of getting him back to the corridor.
The pull increased dragging them both across the tunnel to the other side of the steps. Suddenly, the noise of the roaring wind concentrated into a single stream of sound. Travis held onto the edge of the cavern wall. "Can you hear me?" he screamed at Avenall.
"Yes–– but just barely!"
"We have to find a way out of here!"
"How? We can't go back the way we've came!"
"Any ideas." Travis shook his head, agreed
"No ... me either. I vote we go on!"
"Agreed! But to where?"
"Try that way," Travis screamed, pointing along the curve of ledge.
"Thanks..."
"No problem!" Kristic hurried along the corridor, approaching the edge of the wind tunnel from another direction. He sensed another's presence but shook it off, figuring the women had followed him into the lair. The feeling was strong, powerful; sending curls up his spin. He was genuinely afraid, not only for his own life, but for the lives of Gem and Gayla as well.
Damn, he thought, if only there was another way. But there wasn't. The lair had one way in and one way out. He knew it, they both knew it and the Acreens knew it. He was supposed to be guarding it, but it seemed ridicules. He didn't figure on stopping anything that wanted to get in, so what was the point of hanging around the entrance? He was needed elsewhere, and that's where he wanted to be.
"Forget this," he yelled. "I want to be where the action is!"
The chamber grew darker by the minute and the warrior double-checked each step before taking the next. It was important to cover their backs, along with their fronts and sides. They were entering the deepest part of the lair. A place no human had seen and lived to tell about.
The chamber towered over them like a cathedral; topped with odd–shaped symbols, scored into the ceiling by sharp instruments. Travis assumed the worst. The walls were carvings of someone trying to get out, not to get in. Two long secreted arches ran the walls, worming their way to the bottom, where they converged on the center in a mass that captivated its audience. At the center, a new Acreen was burning within the dark light of regeneration, forming from a black mass of light.
Travis stood perfectly still, taking another step would be an invitation to death. Avenall had no choice but to follow his example. So far, the creatures had no idea of their presence, and they wanted to keep it that way.
Gem followed Gayla into the cavern, dropping off the rope when she neared the bottom of the lair. She had made the leap without too much problem. Shroom followed.
"Now," she said, trying not to think about what she was doing. "Remember the Waspers will be guarding the captives, so keep your eyes open." The corridor split once then twice, making turns at every bend. The chamber was enormous, filled with a honeycomb that covered the walls and ceiling with small platforms that spiraled up from the center of the structure, arching across the walls that supported them.
Gayla pointed, speaking as softly as she could. There were three workers along the ceiling, at the edge of the south wall, just below the upper row of captives.
"Look," she said, making a face. "They're sealing a child…”
"Come on," Gem cringed, taking a step down into the room. A new worker emerged from a hole on the north shoulder of the chamber, descending along the wall to the arch that dropped down to the center. One of the Waspers spiraled down to the platform above Gayla. A shower of sweat r
olled off her forehead, running down her cheeks between her breasts. Gem stood below her, nestled to her waist, trapped. The workers above her descended along the arch, fluttering their wings in preparation for flight. They lifted into the air one after another in rituals of fanciful courtship.
Gayla searched the chamber, hunting for a way off the platform. "Which way?" whispered Gem. Gayla shook her head, responding with a slap across her mouth to keep Gem quiet. Lukrin's foreboding shape lurched into the chamber. Waspers were all around his feet.
Gayla shuttered. Thoughts of death raced through her head. She was in the wrong place at the right time. There wasn't a decision to be made. This was what she was here for ... to create a diversion. And it was time she acted. With a hefty shove, Gem went flying into the chamber. Gayla flew around the side of the center column, pulling herself up onto the platform.
"All right you bastard," she yelled. "You want me, here I am. Come and get me!" The battle began and instantly became a flight for their lives. Bevin's ghostly appearance materialized on the edge of the platform, between Gayla and the Acreen. Gayla screamed, dismayed by the appearance of her mother's spectral image. "Run Gayla..." shouted Gem; however, Lukrin was upon her.
Gayla ran instinctively, but Lukrin struck her from across the room, tossing her aside with his powerful hand. His body moved like fluid, stretching across the curve of the lair like a funnel of black oil. Gayla's scream echoed through the corridor, breaking the silence.
Travis ran through the lair, planting an explosive charge every few meters along the corridors––Avenall along the other side, placing charges at the base of the tunnels. "Gayla..." announced Avenall, hearing the scream first. He recognized the voice and dropped the last of his devices, letting them hit the floor in a pile.