Crossroads

by Stephen Kenson

  “Come in.” he said, stepping back from the door and pulling it open wider. “Enter freely, and of your own will, heh, heh.”

  The tiny apartment on the other side of the door was dim, lit by a collection of thick candles sitting on metal stands and scattered over nearly every flat surface available. The windows were covered by heavy curtains that sealed out what little daylight could fight its way into the room, as well as the moonlight and the neon glow of the plex. The furniture and nearly everything else in the room was lost under a flood of books and loose papers that were stacked everywhere. I could barely make out a couch, a coffee table, and a desk, all covered with paper. The walls were lined with stacks of plastic crates and with shelves made from loose planks stacked with bricks, all sagging under the weight of old books and stacks and stacks of paper.

  “Bloody ’ell.” Boom said quietly, “I’ve never seen so much real paper in my life. Musta killed a whole forest to get this much.”

  Gordon closed the door behind us and carefully reengaged at least four different locks before turning to look at us.

  “Not easy to get.” he said quietly, still standing near the door.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Paper! Paper!” He suddenly became animated, rushing over to the coffee table to scoop up a handful of the stuff. “Real paper. I don't trust computers, oh no. Don't trust them at all. They have cold spirits, so very cold, and they whisper and say things behind your back. Gateways for ghosts, they are, ghosts in the machine. Paper is real, paper you can hold, touch, trust. Don’t ever trust machines. They can turn on you.”

  As he stood, looking up at me, I got a good look at him for the first time. The transformation was shocking. The Dr. Alan Gordon I remembered was a distinguished, handsome man in his late thirties. The man who stood in front of me, clutching a wad of yellowed paper in his hands, had none of the vitality or poise of the man I knew. His skin hung in sallow, wrinkled folds from his face. Deep lines were etched around his eyes and his mouth, creating dark shadows in the flickering candlelight. His hair was entirely gray and chopped bristle-short on his head, receding from a high forehead that gleamed with sweat in the yellow light.

  His clothes were unkempt and loose on his almost skeletal frame. They made him look like a kind of living scarecrow. Around his neck he wore a thin golden chain with a pendant, a five-pointed star within a circle. Seeing it made me think of Jase. I looked up from it and met Dr. Gordon’s eyes.

  They were strange to look at, his eyes. They were the same pale, icy blue I remembered, but the spark, the hint of genius, was replaced by something else, a wild look, like a cornered animal.

  “Dr. Gordon.” I said slowly, “I’m Talon . . . Tom . . . do you remember me?”

  “Remember you?” he said, as if he’d seen me for the first time. He looked more closely, and I could feel those blue eyes boring into me. They widened for a moment, then he looked away, tightly closing his eyes and pressing his balled-up fists against them.

  “No! Can’t remember! Mustn’t remember!” he cried. He backed away a few steps, throwing his head back like he was silently screaming or having some kind of seizure. I was about to try and reach out to him when Boom touched my arm. He silently shook his head. Gordon slowly lowered his hands and looked around the room like he didn’t know where he was.

  “Why are you here?” he said.

  “Mama sent us.” I said slowly.

  The mention of the crone fixer’s name seemed to make Gordon slightly more coherent. He glanced down at the floor and back up at us. “Mama, yes. . . what did she send you for?”

  “A map.” I said. “I need to go on a journey, and I need a map.”

  “A map. Oh, yes, I have maps.” With the sweep on one hand, he took in all the piles of paper. “Many, many, many maps. Maps of the city, maps of the subway, even maps of the Catacombs.”

  “I need a specific map.” I said slowly. “Not a map of this world. Mama said you would know which one.”

  “Ah.” Gordon said in a hushed voice. “You want the other map. Come with me.” Picking up a candle, he scurried into the other room.

  I moved to follow, and Boom laid his hand on my arm again. “Talon, this bloke is a nutter.” he said quietly. “And you’re relying on him to provide what we need? I think I’m starting to hate this plan.”

  “He has what I need.” I said. “Otherwise why would Mama send us to him?”

  Boom snorted and left his opinion unsaid. I went into the other room, and he followed, shaking his head.

  The room was probably Gordon’s bedroom, or at least the room where he slept. There was a foam pad on the floor, barely visible beneath a pile of soiled clothing and more paper. The walls were covered with sheets of paper tacked together to form a strange kind of mural all around us. The pages were covered with arcane writing, symbols, and diagrams written in a firm, dark hand. I stood just inside the room and stared at the collection of pages, barely readable in the flickering glow of the single candle Gordon carried.

  “Gods.” I said in awe, “it’s a map of the metaplanes. All of them.”

  “Yes, yes.” Gordon said. “A map of the Otherworlds, all the worlds beyond this one. All the ones I’ve found so far, anyway.”

  “It’s amazing.” I said. I’d heard that Dr. Gordon was working on a project to map out the metaplanes and the undiscovered depths of astral space, but I had no idea he had continued his work after leaving the Institute. I grasped only the barest concepts of the diagrams I was looking at, and I considered myself pretty good at understanding astral theory after my time with Assets, Inc. There were levels of complexity to the whole thing that made my head hurt just looking at them.

  “Doesn’t look like much of a map to me.” Boom said. “It’s not like a physical map.” I said without turning my head, raptly staring at the diagrams. “It’s a symbolic representation of certain abstract astral states, entirely non-physical and outside of three-dimensional space.”

  “If you say so. It still looks like a lot of squiggles and arrows to me. How are you going to use a map this big?” That was a bit of a problem. Fortunately, Gordon supplied the answer.

  “You don’t need the whole map.” he said. “Only part. To get you where you need to go.”

  I was about to say something about the information I was looking for when Gordon went to one wall, carefully took down a few of the sheets covered in formulae and diagrams and brought them over to me.

  “Do you know what lies in the Otherworlds?” he said, looking me in the eyes. He pressed the sheets of paper into my hand and said, “Everything. The question is: do you really want to look upon it?”

  The blue eyes looked into me and I recalled being on the bridge in the depths of astral space, standing with Ryan and the others and facing the endless dark horde of the Enemy. I recalled the darkness, the hunger, the power, the sheer evil of the things that came from the distant depths of netherworlds humans were never meant to see, and I shuddered at the memory of it. Did I really want to see something like that? Where would this map take me?

  I looked back into Dr. Gordon’s sad, pale eyes. “It’s something I have to do. I have no choice.” I said.

  “Neither did I.” he replied, shaking his head sadly. He put his hand over mine, closing my fingers tightly over the pages. “Neither did I.”

  16

  “There’s no choice, no choice at all.” Gordon said in a sad voice.

  “I don’t understand.” I said. “What do you mean?”

  He still held my eyes. “You know what’s out there, don’t you?” he said. “You’ve seen some of it. I can tell.” I felt like I’d been hit by an electrical shock. I recalled the bridge in the depths of the astral plane, places where I’d never been before. The battle with the Enemy, Thayla’s voice, the blinding power of the Dragon Heart, and becoming lost in those places beyond comprehension, thinking I would never return. If not for Lucero, I might not have. How did Gordon know about it?

  �
��Yes.” I said. “I’ve seen.”

  “Then you know what is out there.”

  “But, Dr. Gordon.” I said, “they’re no longer a threat. The bridge is gone and the power of the Dragon Heart will keep the Enemy at bay. The world is safe. You’re safe.” Gordon shook his head sadly. “No, no, no.” he said softly. “You don’t understand.”

  “I sure as ’ell don’t.” Boom said. “What are you talking about, Talon?”

  I turned to the troll. “I was hired for a run a couple years ago. A team needed a mage who knew one end of a spell from another. The team was Assets, Inc., and they’d lost their mage on a tough run with some serious stakes. It all goes back to Dunkelzahn’s death and some other complicated drek.

  “To make a long story short, we all ended up in this weird astral place I’d never even heard of before. There was some kind of bridge there, being built by these . . . things, spirits of some kind, I guess, that wanted to cross over into our world from whatever weird metaplane they came from. They were using the increasing power of magic to try and get across. Some people set up a sort of stop-gap measure to hold them off, but it wasn’t strong enough, and it started to break down. So we went there and used a powerful talisman called the Dragon Heart to stop them.”

  I turned away a bit. “I nearly didn’t make it back.” I said quietly. “In fact, I was pretty sure I was dead, my astral form lost in the depths of the metaplanes forever, but something happened, something, someone, guided me back to the world of the living.”

  “You were reborn.” Dr. Gordon said. “But not all the affairs of your previous life are done.”

  “What do you mean? How do you know?”

  “I know.” the old man said. “I know far more than I should. More than anyone should. The Enemy is not the only thing out in the depths of the astral planes. They are only a drop of water in the vastness of the cosmic ocean. There are many things out there, more than can ever be counted. Some of them so vast the mortal mind cannot comprehend them. Some more cold and alien than we can imagine, others so beautiful and loving your heart weeps to behold them. What you’ve seen is only a tiny part of the greater whole. We’re not ready for some of the things that are coming, we’re not ready.”

  “But the Enemy . . .”

  “You delayed the Enemy, yes.” Gordon said, “but there are other things coming to our world. Some of them are already here, and others are coming soon. The signs and portents are in place. It’s written in the stars, heralded by the night sky. I know, I’ve seen the signs.”

  “I don’t believe in prophecy.” I said.

  “Believe what you wish. It doesn’t change what is. A change is coming to the world. The Awakening is far from over. In fact, in many ways, it’s only just beginning.”

  I started to ask Gordon for more information, but Boom interrupted.

  “Talon . . .” he said quietly. “We’ve got what we need, right?” I glanced over at the troll, who nodded his head slightly toward the doorway, then down at the papers I held in my hand.

  I turned back to Dr. Gordon. “We should go.” I said.

  The mage locked his icy blue eyes on mine and I saw a hint of his old, brilliant self in them. He smiled sadly.

  “The real enemy is not out there.” he said. Then he reached out and tapped my chest with a single, bony finger. “It’s in here. Beware the demons in your own heart, magician.”

  “Talon . . .” Boom said again, a little louder this time.

  “What?” I said, somewhat irritated at the interruption. I felt very close to understanding something.

  “Is it getting hot in here?”

  Now that Boom mentioned it, it was getting hotter in the room. The air in the cramped apartment was warm and oppressive from the moment we came in. Now it was becoming stifling. There was a dull, whooshing sound and a bright, flickering light came from the other room.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Boom said, drawing his weapon from the shoulder holster concealed under his jacket.

  We moved into the other room just in time to see one of the thick candles flare up again. As the flames shot up, the candle dissolved like water, showering the area around it with droplets of hot wax. The flame detached itself from the candle and hovered about a meter above the surface of the table where the candlestick rested. The flames swirled into a fist-sized sphere of fire, glowing with a white-hot core at its very center.

  “Oh drek.” Boom said. “Fire elemental!”

  The elemental finished materializing. The sphere of flame grew rapidly to become a hideous reptilian creature, like a snake with stunted legs, hovering in the air. Its scales were iridescent red and black, marked in diamond-shaped patterns. Its eyes were like black coals and its entire body was surrounded by an aura of flames, heat coming off it in waves. The spirit glared at us and I saw no humanity or mercy reflected in those dead black eyes.

  Sparks and tongues of fire shot from the spirit’s halo of fire, touching the piles of paper and books all over the room. The dry paper caught instantly and, in the blink of an eye, the apartment turned into an inferno.

  “Noooooo!” Gordon shouted. “My work! All my work!” The flames spread quickly across every surface, greedily licking at the papers, printouts, and books, the dry cloth and dry wood. I heard a low, hissing sound. Whether it came from the flames or the spirit, or both, I couldn’t say.

  Without hesitation, Boom barreled for the door of the apartment, with me right behind, leading an incoherent Dr. Gordon as he continued to scream and moan. The big troll almost made it to the door before the spirit, all fire and shadow, moved like a leaping spark to intercept him. Boom howled in pain as he struck the spirit's burning body and stumbled back, nearly knocking the both of us over.

  “We’re not going out that way.” Boom said, slowly backing away from the door. He clutched his hand to his chest, but I couldn’t see how seriously he was hurt. The room was filling with thick smoke, and I knew a rickety place like this, on the edge of the Rox, had no fire alarms, no smoke detectors. The old wooden structure would burn like a house of matchsticks. Metroplex fire services wouldn’t come out here except to contain the blaze and, perhaps, sift through the ashes for bodies or any valuables not destroyed in the fire. We had to get out on our own.

  “Into the other room! I can try and get us out that way!” I shouted over the roaring of the fire. Boom was smart enough not to question me. He slipped past me and headed for the doorway. I backed away from the spirit, holding Dr. Gordon’s wrist. He stood staring in horrid fascination as his life’s work went up in flames around him, like an accident victim unable to tear his eyes away from a horrible crash.

  The spirit began moving toward us, slowly. I had the distinct feeling it was playing with us, trying to corner us before moving in for the kill.

  I pulled on the doctor’s wrist. “We have to go!” I shouted.

  Gordon jerked his wrist out of my grip. “No! My work . . he moaned.

  “We can’t save it.” I said. “Damn it, we’ve got to get out of here!” I was starting to choke on the thick smoke and my eyes were tearing, my vision blurred. The spirit circled to the side. I thought it might try to break past us and get at Boom.

  “You can save it.” Gordon said. He didn’t seem at all affected by the smoke or the heat. He turned to me, his face streaked with soot and ash, his bright eyes standing out in stark contrast. “You can carry on what I began.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Tell me you’ll do it, Talon. Tell me you’ll continue my work to protect everyone from the things that are coming. Keep them safe.”

  All I could think of was that we had to get out of there, pronto. The smoke was making me dizzy. “Doctor . . .”

  “Promise me. Please.”

  The spirit coiled to strike.

  “All right, I promise. I’ll do it.” I said. I drew Talon-claw from the sheath at my hip.

  “Then go!” Gordon cried and pushed me toward the othe
r room with far more strength than I could have imagined from the looks of him. The spirit, about to be deprived of its prey, hissed and leapt through the air.

  “Hold, spawn of fire!” Gordon shouted. “Hold, creature of the pit!”

  The elemental stopped as if it had hit a brick wall. It roared and flames shot out of its open mouth. Gordon stood his ground and held his hands wide over his head, fingers crooked in a magical gesture. Flickering energy seemed to arc between them, leaping out to touch the spirit’s flaming aura with a pale blue light.

  “Avant, ye elemental!” Gordon intoned. “Avant, ye nature unbound! Begone from this place and trouble it no more!”

  The spirit shrieked and thrashed against invisible bonds, struggling to reach the frail mage. It inched closer and Gordon faltered back a step. I stopped in the doorway, watching them struggle. I held out a hand and prepared to call the power to me to strike the creature with a spell, but the words of invocation caught in my throat as I coughed.

  “Talon!” Boom called from the other room, coughing and choking. The smoke was almost too thick to see through, and the flames were everywhere.

  Gordon turned away from the spirit for a moment to look at me, his eyes fierce, his hair wild. “Go, damn you! Go!” he shouted.

  The spirit seized the moment of his distraction to lash out with its serpentine tail. The blow sent the old man to his knees, but he held his hands high and shouted more words of power. The spirit recoiled, shrieking.

  “Talon!”

  I looked for an instant more as the dark smoke obscured the battle between the mage and the spirit, then turned and raced into the other room.

  Boom had already torn down the heavy drapes and smashed the narrow window. Smoke poured out, but it was still difficult to breathe. The troll clutched his injured arm as the flames continued to spread into the room. The map of the metaplanes covering the wall blackened and shriveled as the fire crawled up the ceiling.

  “No fire escape.” Boom said with a nod toward the window, “and I don’t exactly think they had trolls in mind when they designed the windows.”