“And the Above is the opposite, I take it?”
“Yes. Time moves slower than it would on Earth. And the power levels grow much greater as you go ‘up.’ My Golden City exists in what we believe to be the middle Above.”
“The middle? There are levels higher—more powerful—than your City?”
“Very likely. We believe the source of our Fountain, of our Power, lies somewhere beyond us in the Above.”
“You haven’t been there, though?”
“We have great difficulty in traveling much above our City’s level,” I replied. “We simply lack the power to transverse such barriers.”
“And are there… beings… beyond you? Those who look at you the way you look at humans? At insects?”
I glanced at her, looked away, and pursed my lips.
“Perhaps.”
Despite her attempts to probe further, I would say nothing more on that score.
We walked on through the fog.
After some time, we reached an area discernable from the rest of this mist-filled realm only by a slight rise underfoot and a certain tingle in the air. It seemed right, but we would have had to be quite fortunate to have found it so quickly. I raised a hand and brought us to a halt, then kept my hand aloft and walked in a small circle, seeking the telltale signs.
“What is it?” Evelyn asked. She had not ceased to peer into the fog during our entire walk, despite the complete lack of visibility beyond about ten feet in any direction.
I found the thin patch in the dimensional barrier and pushed. Again the ripples in the air, again the blazing blue portal as I tore us a conduit from one realm of existence to another adjacent to it.
On the other side, this time, we emerged into a heavy rain under a dark, moonless sky. We descended into an arroyo, made our way carefully across its rock-strewn depths, and climbed back out again. The water pelted us relentlessly, but we pressed on.
After an hour’s walk, during which time the rain finally let up to a mere trickle, we happened upon a wizened old man, his skin a peculiar shade of gray, leading an ox cart. He regarded us with little interest, until I fished in one pocket and brought out a small, blue coin, crackling with what little of the Power I could manage quickly to squeeze inside. He perked up then, accepted it, and gestured for us to climb aboard. I was quite happy to get off my feet for a time, and I could tell Evelyn, despite her military stoicism regarding such things, felt the same way.
We bounced and along at a good pace. Evelyn stretched out, napping, while I looked about, studying the surroundings, absolutely none of which proved of interest. Consequently, I turned my attention to the driver and his beast. The man mumbled something in a language I had never encountered before, apparently to his animal, and I idly wondered if the creature could actually understand him. I had seen stranger things in my travels, certainly. The ox, of course, bore little resemblance to any ox I had ever encountered in Evelyn’s cosmos, but the fifth and sixth legs actually seemed to increase its efficiency, so I was not about to complain.
After a couple of hours of travel, I gently shook Evelyn awake and we hopped off the back of the wagon. The old man did not even look back.
As if on cue, the rains began to fall once more. Sighing, we pressed on.
Six more times we walked through alien landscapes, and six more times I found the weak spot I sought and opened a portal. Each time, we emerged into a world of extremely limited visibility: a light sandstorm, a solar eclipse, a thick jungle. As we emerged from a rather unpleasant snowstorm, Evelyn seemed to catch on, and finally spoke up.
“This is way too much of a coincidence,” she said. “You’re causing this somehow, aren’t you?” She brushed the last flakes of snow from her flight suit.
I smiled.
“Not ‘causing’—not precisely.”
Now we walked through a dull, gray countryside, under a dull, gray sky. A nearly featureless vista stretched to the horizon in every direction.
“Then what are you doing?” she asked. “How is it happening?”
I shrugged.
“I have mapped out many paths over the centuries. I know the places where the planes intersect. I know of many planes that are likely to provide the general conditions I desire.”
“So you weren’t actually making it snow, then?”
“No. I cannot control these universes. I can only choose a path among the planes most likely to provide the environments I seek.” I flashed a smile at her. “We have been fortunate so far—though not in this particular one, it would seem.”
Her eyebrows arched.
“Fortunate? A snowstorm… a sandstorm… those are fortunate?” Barely two seconds passed, and then, “Oh. Of course. Surveillance.”
“Indeed. This route is a bit longer than some of the alternate ways to where we’re going, but few could spot us or track us along it. It has been good to me before.”
I grimaced as a blast of icy rain smacked me in the face, and I saw Evelyn do likewise. The downpour began almost immediately afterward.
“Ah, that’s more like it,” I observed. We both laughed then. “Unfortunately, it is not always the most pleasant path.”
“You do realize,” she said, a wry smile on her face, “that after all this hardship, I’m expecting our destination to be nothing less than a four-star resort.”
I laughed sharply.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll settle for three stars—but the chef had better be top notch.”
Passing out of the wet, gray realm and through another of my blue portals, we stepped into what seemed a vast, silvery bowl. Strange, spidery, leafless trees like bizarre aluminum sculptures twisted skyward—and what a sky it was. A vast aurora swirled overhead, filling all but the uppermost portion in a miasma of shifting rainbow colors.
“I don’t know whether to be enchanted or frightened,” Evelyn said, looking around. “Of course, that would apply to most of what I’ve encountered since the ship was captured.” Her gaze lingered on a tiny object ahead of us in the distance. “What is that?”
“A landmark. An old safe-house. And a positive sign,” I said, hoping all those things proved to be true.
We walked on for a time in silence, and the object ahead resolved into a small structure. From what I could see, it remained intact. I felt some amount of relief. Perhaps things would finally go my way.
Some measure of self-pity swept over me then, before I could push it away. I thought of my current troubles, and then backward to my long years in exile, on Mysentia and the other Outer Worlds, virtually powerless. I thought of the rebellion that led to that exile, and its failure, and my trial and conviction. I thought back still further, and remembered the worst moment in my long, immortal life. I remembered the last time I saw Halaini.
I remembered her golden skin, her almond eyes, and her black, spiky hair, shot through with vivid streaks of blood red and platinum blonde. I remembered her delicate hands, her slender form, and the odd, turquoise coloring above and around her eyes. I remembered the green and the gold she always wore, and the slightly rumpled appearance she affected, belied by the utter grace with which she carried herself. I recalled the air of perpetual disconcert which seemed to surround her, alternating with an equal measure of serene self-confidence, if that makes any sense—and perhaps only with her could such a thing be possible. And, for as long as I had known her, I had found her to be the most fascinating creature in this or any universe.
I remembered her as she was on that last day, beautiful and brash and utterly unafraid of anything. And I thought of her climbing high atop the platform over the Fountain, and calling down to both parties, demanding that the fighting cease, pleading for both sides to come to our senses before something tragic happened… And I thought of the shot that struck her and knocked her over the edge, falling, falling, down into the churning cauldron of energies, gone, gone.
Halaini… How I took you for granted… How I never paused to consider you, because I felt that an i
mmortal had no cause to hurry in anything… All the time in the world, I believed… And then, just like that, the time is gone, ended forever…
I was brought back to myself when Evelyn halted, presumably for a break. I realized then that we had spent a considerable amount of time walking across that featureless concave surface. We had indeed traveled a very long way.
She stood, hands on hips, and looked around again, though there was little to see.
“Where are we now?” she asked. “Anywhere close to our destination?”
I blinked, realizing I had been lost in my memories again, my body moving along on instinct and subconscious drive—a condition I found myself falling into more and more often, lately. Idly I wondered if gods could not help but eventually go insane, from the press of memories weighing down, growing heavier each year, each millennium. Perhaps we were all fated to simply drown in that ocean of experiences. Perhaps the gods now dead had been the fortunate ones, after all.
“We are somewhere in the Above,” I said. “One of the levels. One plane among many.”
She considered that for a moment. Then, “How many are there?”
“How many digits are there behind the decimal point? Who knows?”
I stretched tired muscles and then leaned back against a silver tree, trying and failing once again to relax.
“Planes and levels of planes, and subdivisions of those,” I muttered. “I doubt anyone will ever know the answer.”
I waved a hand airily before me.
“For example, when we break through a barrier, are we truly moving from one point to the immediate next?”
She frowned.
“I thought that was what you said.”
“Maybe. It is a more comforting thought. But what if we are actually skipping over layers and layers when we jump? What universes might lie hidden in the spaces in between? What wonders and horrors have we never seen, that wait just around the corner from any given reality? Who knows?” I laughed once, sharply. “Not me.”
“Not an encouraging thought,” she said, idly running her fingers along the trunk of another tree, apparently fascinated by it. “As interesting as I find all of this,” she added, “I’d just as soon be back home and confronting problems I know how to deal with.”
“I know.”
“And I have no doubt Cassidy and Kim feel the same way,” she said. “Wherever they are.”
I regarded her. Despite my long-cultivated preconceptions and prejudices, I found I unexpectedly had come to admire her in some ways. I valued the refreshingly clear-headed manner with which she had reacted to our obstacles thus far, despite their being, for the most part, far beyond her experience. Along with this, I respected her obvious strength and determination. The others of her crew had proven severely lacking, especially with regard to the former quality.
“Are you sure you are not better off without them?” I asked.
She faced me then, clearly angry.
“I haven’t been pressing the issue of the others because I’m entirely at your mercy, for the moment, and because I realize you are extremely constrained in what you can and cannot do right now. But don’t think for a minute that I’ve forgotten about them.”
She leaned closer, eyes flashing bright blue.
“We will find them. And we will get home. All of us.”
A deep emotion surged up within me, a fire building in my gut and roaring out along my limbs, threatening to explode into visible reaction. I could not tell if it was outrage at her impertinence or resentment at her obvious assumption that I would happily abandon the two men to whatever fate had befallen them. The fact that this was true only made it worse. I opened my mouth, forced it closed again, and looked away, exerting all of my willpower to bring my emotions back under control. Nevertheless, something of my inner reaction must have shone through to her, for she exhibited the tiniest smile, nodded once, and walked away from me.
I stood there for long moments, looking down, glaring at nothing, softly kicking the toe of my boot against the trunk of an aluminum tree, over and over. I did not trust myself to speak. Certainly I was not going to run after her, protesting her judgment. Had I not been telling anyone who would listen lately that evil was my gig? How could I deny that now?
Evelyn had wandered a considerable distance away by the time I looked up again. I could not bring myself to follow her, just yet.
“That is not a safe thing to do,” I called to her.
She ignored me.
I fumed.
I could not approach her. Not at the moment.
Idly I wondered how she had taken my words. Did she think I was referring to her wandering away, or to the manner in which she had spoken to me? And then I realized she now had me second-guessing my own words, my own intentions. Utter insanity! Yet here I was, doing just that—fretting over the possibility that I had inadvertently offended her.
The fool! In a realm such as this, she was utterly defenseless. Foolish mortal, allowing her emotions to get the better of her, to endanger her. I had to do something to protect her, whether she liked it or not.
Reaching out, I grasped the tip of the silver tree and exerted pressure. After a few seconds it snapped off, yielding a crystalline chunk of shiny stuff about the size of my fist. Holding it in both hands, I summoned the Power and channeled it into the chunk.
She turned and looked back, seeing the blue glow in my hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Providing you with some manner of protection,” I called back, “as I did in the cave.”
She watched as I continued to pump blue energy into the strange piece of—tree? Metal? Crystal? Whatever it was, it seemed to accommodate the influx easily enough.
“That’s not necessary.” She looked around. “We appear to be safe enough, for the moment.”
I merely laughed. Her pride was astounding. Surely by now she had some conception of the dangers constantly surrounding us.
She shrugged and looked away again.
When the chunk had reached the point of energy absorption I desired, I sought to staunch the flow so that I might toss the newly created battery to her.
The flow continued.
Puzzled, I tried to break the circuit again, willing the flow of energy to halt.
Still the silver metal continued to pull the Power from me. It acted like a sponge—like a vacuum—insistent and insatiable, actually causing the rate of flow to increase, even as I fought to stop it. Both my hands were glued to the object’s surface, and I could not release it.
“Now what?” Evelyn called to me.
“I—” I gasped, my breathing becoming ragged. I could hardly speak. My own personal reserves were being drawn upon, along with the energy I channeled from the aether, that which radiated out from our Fountain in the Golden City.
A sudden, sharp pain from the area of my hip cut through my senses then, and I looked down to see, with some surprise, a wisp of smoke coiling up from my pocket. A quivering tongue of lightning had arced out from the silvery chunk of tree in my hands and was playing along the folds of my coat. Even as I grimaced from the pain of the energy draining from me, I wondered what could possibly be happening—of course!
“The pistol,” I gasped.
Even as I said the words, the gun in my pocket tumbled out, falling to the sandy ground. It lay there, glowing bright orange, the tendril of energy still reaching for it, connecting it to the silver chunk. Then, with a flash and a sharp, popping sound, the tendril vanished and the gun lay cool and dark. I had my suspicions about what had just happened, and was not at all happy about it, but I was not exactly in a position to check at the moment.
No matter what I did, I could not let go. The silver object I clutched in my hands continued to draw upon my energies, draining me rapidly. It had by this point taken on a vivid incandescent glow, blazing like a blue star in my hands.
Slowly at first, Evelyn walked back towards me. Seeing that I appeared to be in dire straits,
she increased her pace.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… don’t know. Stay back!”
I dropped roughly to my knees, hunching over and trying to knock the silver fragment loose by smashing my hands on the ground. No luck there, either, and the pain only further reduced what little control I had left. The rate of flow had grown tremendous. I began to worry that it would either drain me entirely or burn me out as it used me as a conduit to the source of the Power. Neither fate seemed particularly appealing.
She halted, watching with a growing look of concern on her face. Evidently she had deduced a general idea of what was happening.
“Why is it doing that?” she asked.
I did not reply. In truth, I had no idea. Clearly the substance of the silvery trees contained some property that drew the Power into it—a fact I had never had cause to discover before. Over the centuries I had found or heard reports about a number of materials, scattered across the many planes, which reacted in unusual ways to the presence or energies of the gods. This one, though, jumped pretty close to the top of the “unusual” list, as far as I was concerned, trailing only one other: the red crystals I had discovered ages ago, upon which I had pinned so many of my hopes for the future.
Meanwhile a further, more ominous fear had begun to grow inside me: Even if I somehow could halt this bizarre draining effect, a greater damage might already have been done. The prodigious amount of raw power flowing through me and into this plane could serve as a beacon, a lighthouse to any who could sense it. I might well be waving a flag, blowing a horn, and otherwise loudly proclaiming to the universe, “Hey, here I am! Look at me!”
Every method of controlling the Power I had ever mastered entered my mind then, and I essayed them one by one. Going with the flow, but subtly shaping its course. Sensing the individual threads or flavors of the Power and working with each individually. Seeking to dominate the entire mass of it with sheer willpower. I tried them all. Nothing helped.
Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (The Above Book 1) Page 11