Etheric Knight

by P. J. Cherubino

  Light gray roots, as fine and delicate as nerves, spread out in every direction from the remnant skeletons. Most of the flesh was gone. What little remained was connected to roots that spread out, then gathered together into single, thick runners.

  “You made the forest from the bodies,” Vinnie gasped. He shook his head to snap out of it. He could only displace the ground for so long.

  “Signal isn’t changing!” Cole shouted.

  Vinnie turned to the left and walked a few feet. His Irth magic still felt strong and abundant.

  “Weaker,” Cole announced.

  Vinnie turned back toward the grave.

  “Weaker!”

  He took a chance and angled straight down under the grave.

  “Stronger!”

  He moved down farther, only to hear, “Weak!”

  He maintained his depth and walked straight ahead in relation to the tunnel opening, and Cole shouted loudest yet.

  “Stronger! Stronger! Strongest!”

  Vinnie saw its glow through a sandy patch of soil just above his head. He turned off the rifle and reached out carefully. He concentrated magical energy into the surrounding soil and made it collapse. The oblong creature dropped by his feet.

  This one was blacker than red. When he picked it up, the blackest part of its shell cracked, and limp, gray tendrils tumbled from it.

  With his energy fading, Vinnie made his way back to the surface. He popped up on the other side of Charlie’s rock pile with his goal in hand.

  “It looks dead,” Jakub observed when Vinnie dropped it into one of the empty wagons.

  “It’s still giving off magical energy,” Elise noted, looking at the instruments. She was busy recording all the numbers that ticked by on the dials and had a full page of figures on her lined paper.

  “I think you can stop recording for now,” Vinnie told her.

  “Good,” Elise replied. She set down her pencil and shook her hand. “Getting cramps.”

  “I think the next project will be inventing a device that can store the numbers, rather than having people watch the indicators and write them down.”

  “Cole’s idea with the indicator dials and ink is a good start,” Jakub advocated.

  Cole smiled proudly as he began to disconnect the equipment.

  “What do you think this will do for us?” Jakub asked, always practical-minded.

  “I’m still not sure,” Vinnie answered. “But I think it’s time to dissect the other portal beast.”

  “That sounds very dangerous,” Elise speculated. “If this one is still alive in this condition…” she trailed off with a worried look. “We still don’t know if they’re going to make a portal at any moment.”

  “That’s why it’s time,” Vinnie replied. “I will do it. This time, you will not be there, and I will not allow you to persuade me.” They knew not to challenge that particular look in his eye.

  Vinnie let the mood stand for a moment before giving the order to return to the workshop.

  Afterward

  Astrid left Jiri on the rough wool blanket to retrieve a pitcher of cool water and two clay mugs. They sat together naked as the day they were born and sipped the clear water.

  “Do we need to talk about anything?” Jiri asked tentatively.

  Astrid’s face glowed with recent memory. She leaned forward and kissed his lips made cool by the water.

  “No,” She replied, leaning back again. “We said what we needed to say about us.”

  Jiri considered his cup. “But,” he sighed, leaving the word to hang in the air.

  “We’ll be careful,” Astrid promised. “We must be. Anything we do affects so many others…”

  The creak of a door hinge brought her attention to Squire, who stood with a comical look of shock on his face.

  “Hello, Squire,” Astrid smirked. To show him a little mercy, she turned her back to him so he could breathe again.

  “Ah...Ah…” the young man stammered.

  Astrid’s move had failed to put him at ease. She supposed it was because she found the situation so amusing and he obviously did not. “Please wait in the war room. We’ll be with you shortly.”

  He continued to make incoherent vowel sounds and closed the door behind him. She turned back to Jiri and saw the same expression of restrained mirth she knew she wore.

  Jiri broke first. They collapsed into each other’s arms laughing hysterically. Jiri pulled back finally and wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye.

  “It’s been far too long since I’ve laughed like that,” he declared. “And far too long since…” he trailed off with a deep grin.

  Astrid stood first, and Jiri used the helping hands she offered to stand as well. She wasn’t prepared for the ache that suddenly spread across her chest.

  “I know,” Jiri agreed. “I feel that too, but we have to get back to it.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a mystic?” Astrid asked. She felt her tone of voice change back to the way it was before.

  “Alas, I am not,” Jiri replied.

  As they dressed, Jiri snickered at the broken leather straps on his armor. He shook his head in a parody of regret and look at her accusingly.

  “I blame you,” Astrid stated. She zipped her armor, and they headed into the war room, where Squire had recovered.

  His solution to his discomfort was to invest heavily in formality. He stood flagpole-straight and announced, “Vinnie asked me to find you and my mentor. He requests that you report to the workshop.”

  “Report to the workshop,” Astrid replied. “Understood.” She mirrored his formality.

  Jiri handed his chest plate to Squire. “Take this to Vinnie and ask him if his fine artisans can repair this for me.”

  Squire was so happy to leave the room that he forgot to acknowledge the order.

  “Are you hungry?” Astrid asked.

  “Never more so,” Jiri replied.

  “Let’s go to the kitchens first and see what’s down there.”

  Astrid had a new spring in her step on the way down the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Where are we?

  The sensation of his hand sinking into the cold, slimy mass of flesh vanished when he opened his eyes and found himself in a dark cave. He knew it was a cave because of the dank smell and the dripping of water.

  It took him a while to recognize the sights again. He did not see things through his own eyes. But this time, he was in his own body. He was sharing the vision now. He looked down at his hands and feet.

  Strange place, Mortsen said.

  Gormer jumped. Next to him, Mortsen’s form looked like blurred, wavy lines of black, red, and yellow.

  What did you do? Gormer asked, fear creeping into his voice.

  Just relax, kid, Mortsen replied. If you tense up, we might not make it out of this place.

  What is this place? Gormer asked.

  That’s what we’re here to find out.

  Even in the mental realm, Mortsen’s voice sounded like a gravel landslide and his gold-toothed smile was disconcerting. We just stole the eyes of our enemy. I’m keeping us from going any deeper because you almost died before.

  How did you know about that? Gormer demanded.

  I might not ever tell you, Mortsen stated matter-of-factly. Focus, now. We don’t have long.

  Footsteps echoed through the cavern, and Gormer saw the sound traveling through the humid air.

  A deep voice boomed out and rattled the surrounding stone.

  “Approach, my servant, and kneel before me.”

  Gormer couldn’t make out the form that immediately complied. He only knew it was kneeling by the reduction in height. Its voice sounded muffled, and the words were unintelligible. That was when he realized he was listening through the enemy's ears as well.

  He needed to know who that was. He couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but he knew they were human.

  “I serve the Great General Varkos,” the supplican
t replied. “The plan proceeds, mighty General, commander of death and master of the weak.”

  “Tell me of your task,” the voice commanded.

  “The mercenaries planted your soldier-seeds. Just as you predicted, the enemy found and destroyed all those mercenaries. There are no more mouths to speak our secret, and the fools believe they have a victory.”

  “And what of my missing servant? His task was complete. He should also have been destroyed.”

  The supplicant sank lower. “I must regret to inform you that your killers did not find him. Instead, the weaklings, through a stroke of luck, were able to defeat your soldiers.”

  Gormer nearly collapsed at the minion’s scream. The sound made his head ring. The slave fell to the ground and spasmed.

  “I grant you my favor so that you may become strong by joining me! Do not squander the rare gifts that I have given you! Go out and use power and strength in my name! Do not disappoint me again!”

  “I serve you, master,” the now-quavering voice replied. “I cherish your gifts and prepare them for new hosts who will bear your blessings. Soon, the land will know the bliss of serving you, General Varkos.”

  Gormer’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t realize he’d held his breath until sparks danced in his vision. He breathed again greedily as he stared up at the canvas wagon cover. Even then, it took him seconds to realize he was in the wagon. He always had been, but his mind had not.

  He was flat on his back beside Mortsen, who struggled to his knees. Gormer clawed himself upright on Mortsen’s arm.

  “The Wards,” Gormer exclaimed. “Their plan is the Wards. But when?”

  “Soon,” Mortsen replied. “But that’s a wild guess. Whoever that was, they are under the control of Varkos.”

  “We have to get back to tell Astrid,” Gormer exclaimed as he pulled himself into the driver’s seat. He urged the horses up the switchback road as fast as they could go.

  After what he had seen, he was wide awake. Though Mortsen buffered him from the seething malevolence of the being that now had a name, Gormer was haunted by the evil he experienced.

  “Mortsen,” Gormer choked. “We have to kill this thing.”

  “You’re right, kid,” Mortsen intoned in a baritone that sank into Gormer’s bones. “And we are going to kill this thing. No matter how long it takes, no matter what we must do. I have never seen or felt evil like this before.”

  The Team Gathers

  Gormer and Mortsen drove the wagon into the wide, open doors of the workshop. Oscar was working on one of the porcupines and greeted Gormer warmly, but the exhausted mystic couldn’t give him the greeting he wanted to.

  Oscar set down his spanner and hurried over. “Gormer, you don’t look well.”

  “That’s because I’m not well. I’ve been inside the head of pure evil for the second time this week. That’s a bad week.”

  “Take care of yourself,” Oscar requested, worry scrawled across his face.

  Gormer shook his head and replied. “If I knew how to do that, I wouldn’t be working here.”

  They found the Righteous Dregs, plus Tracker, Hanif and Jiri up in Vinnie’s office. All their faces were drawn, and every eye was hooded by dark concerns.

  “It’s worse than we thought,” Vinnie stated as the two entered.

  “General…” Gormer started to say.

  “Varkos…” Astrid spoke the name over Gormer as he blurted it out.

  “How did you know?” Gormer asked.

  “The Skrim told me,” Astrid replied.

  “Where have you been?” Vinnie asked. “We were worried about you.”

  “Ah…” Gormer hesitated, stepping forward while massaging the back of his neck. He avoided Astrid’s eyes. “Don’t be angry—”

  “Sometimes, when someone tells me that,” Astrid remarked. “It translates to prepare to be angry. But with you, that is always the case.”

  “I made him link with the meat suit,” Mortsen confessed. “I knew it was the only way. I sensed something and tricked Gormer into joining with it together.”

  Astrid shook her head. “We need the team together. In the future,” she clenched her jaw as she spoke. “You need to let me decide what risks to take. You are both part of something bigger now.” She cast an involuntary glance at Jiri. “We need you all now, more than ever. I need to be able to trust you.”

  “Mortsen kept me from going too far this time,” Gormer added. “But I did sense the control critter, the victim, and Varkos himself.”

  “At the very least, we can learn something from your reckless risk. Do you think you can sense the control creatures now that you know what they feel like?” Astrid asked.

  “Most definitely,” Gormer assured them. “I’ll never forget the feeling.”

  “Then that’s also a benefit. I might ask you to do so very soon,” Astrid replied.

  Gormer didn’t look happy about that.

  She pointed to Vinnie and announced, “The man-mountain also has some news.”

  “My excellent students and I found the other portal beast. It was buried in the ground. We discovered that each portal creature exudes energy with a specific numerical signature. We were able to isolate and locate those signatures.”

  “That’s great news, right?” Gormer interrupted in sudden hopefulness. “I mean, we can track them down now, right?” Vinnie remained silent. “Right?” Gormer asked again, fear creeping into his voice.

  “We found hundreds of signals,” Vinnie confirmed. “Hundreds in the fortress wards alone. We think there may be others, and that they are all connected, somehow.”

  Gormer collapsed into the nearest chair. “I’ll listen from over here,” he mumbled with his face in his hands.

  “We don’t know what’s stopping this General from making his finishing move,” Astrid began. “But it looks like he can at any time.”

  “No,” Mortsen disagreed. “Gormer and I heard him talking with someone. We believe this someone was a human under his control. They mentioned ‘soldier-seeds’ and how those seeds would grow and then everyone would serve Varkos. He’s waiting on his chance to activate all the portal beasts and send in mindfuckers to take everyone over.”

  “You buried the lede,” Vinnie quipped. Everyone turned blank stares in his direction, even Gormer. Vinnie’s face reddened. “It’s an expression of the New Ancients. It has to do with newspapers—”

  “What’s a newspaper?” Jiri asked.

  Vinnie opened his mouth to answer.

  “Never mind,” Astrid interrupted. “Can we get back to the part about an evil general from another world who wants to enslave and murder us?”

  The room fell silent save for the muffled sounds of the workshop below their feet.

  “Feel free to chime in here, people,” Astrid instructed. “Any ideas on how to stop a monster that can use other monsters to control your mind and has the power to attack you from anywhere?”

  “Not anywhere,” Vinnie snapped his fingers. “I should have seen it before.”

  “Gah!” Gormer blurted out. “You and the damn suspense. Tell us already!”

  Stress-relieving chuckles went around the room.

  “The portal beasts are linked. They are pre-staged. If we find them, we can also figure out how they are linked and maybe stop them from being controlled.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Astrid agreed. “But since we don’t know how much time we have…”

  Hanif spoke next. “Is this something your people can do without diverting fighters?”

  “Yes,” Vinnie affirmed. “I have portable equipment that can fit in wagons. I can spare enough workers and train them easily.”

  “The source…” Jiri began. “If the portal beasties are connected to each other, and Varkos controls them all, then there must be a way to find Varkos.”

  “There is,” Vinnie confirmed. “But I’m afraid that would mean making him open portals around my equipment.”

  “Having portals op
en sounds like an astoundingly bad idea,” Tarkon spoke for the first time.

  “Maybe not,” Gormer mused. “We know what this Varkos shitstick wants. He’ll do anything for it. We can make him do something stupid if we make him think that he can get to Charlie and the Skrim.”

  “No,” Astrid declared. “Absolutely not.”

  “What?” Vinnie asked. “We need everything on the table, Astrid.”

  “I already crossed a line today. I mentally tortured a sentient being just to get some information. I believe that being is just as much a victim as the people his master has killed. I’m not going to use him as bait, and I’m not going to risk Charlie.”

  “I respect that, Astrid,” Gormer grinned. “But all we need to make this happen is a good con game. You just so happen to have the best in the business at your disposal.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Astrid invited wearily.

  “We don’t need to actually risk Charlie or the Skrim, though I wouldn’t mind losing the Skrim.” He let stand an awkward silence. “We just need to let the right people think that we’re moving Charlie and the Skrim.”

  “You want us to pretend to move them,” Astrid asked.

  “Yes. That’s guaranteed to draw an attack. First, we need a good rumor. It’s unfortunate, but we’re gonna have to make it look like the guards told someone the secrets.”

  “I’ll tell the watch commander,” Astrid agreed.

  “You can’t,” Gormer said.

  “Our troops are loyal,” Tarkon explained. “We will need to ask their forgiveness for the deception.”

  “Wow,” Gormer replied. “People who don’t lie have it bad. That’s a lot of stress and strain over just a little lie.”

  Astrid groaned and massaged her forehead. “I’ll counsel you on that later.”

  “Here’s the story.” Gormer leaned in. “We find the guard we can trust enough to lie convincingly and who can keep a secret about a secret.” Gormer shook his head. “That made me dizzy.”

  “You’re always dizzy,” Tarkon shot back.

  Gormer extended his middle finger and barely skipped a beat. “He has to tell someone who can’t be trusted. We need a loudmouth.”