Timeless (The Cartographer Book 3)

by Craig Gaydas

  “Well that can't be good,” Kedge whispered.

  “Were you always the master of the obvious or did you come to learn it over time?” I retorted.

  Instead of answering, he lifted his rifle and shot an approaching Forsaken. The one who had no legs charged me. His muscled arms pumped furiously as he closed the distance between us. I shot him in the chest and the momentum sent him flying backwards where he came to rest alongside the road. I noticed more of The Forsaken pour out from the woods. There had to be at least forty of them now. I looked at Jori's desperate expression and knew we were in trouble.

  “GO BACK!” he shouted.

  We nearly bowled each other down on our way back to the bus. After scrambling up the stairs and slamming the door, Jori jumped behind the wheel and started the bus. Before he could go, The Forsaken surrounded the vehicle and started to pound on the windows and doors. They rocked it so violently I was sure it would tip over at any moment.

  One of the windows shattered and broken glass showered Mazu. “Do something!” he cried frantically.

  Yori fixed him with an icy stare. “Why don't you pray to your god, Brasus? Perhaps he will get up off his golden toilet and actually do something!”

  Despite being distracted, firing out the broken window, Kedge brayed laughter. “I think I like this guy,” he said before shooting a Forsaken climbing through the window.

  Due to the violent rocking, Jori couldn't get the bus into drive and chose instead to attend to the door, which was nearly torn off the hinges. Bloated fingers pulled on the door like a group of sausage links trying to sneak their way in. Jori kicked at them awkwardly, but they continued their furious clawing.

  Another window shattered and Vigil ran to it. He flipped a tiny switch on his bracelet and tendrils of light extended about two feet from each end, giving the bracelet a crossbow-like appearance. The falcon head embossed on the top sprang to life and its mouth opened, revealing a white globe of light inside. He pointed his hand toward the window and before I could ask what he was doing, a bright bolt of white light shot from the mouth. A flash of heat brushed my face before the bolt met its mark— an unfortunate Forsaken, who had managed to make his way halfway through the window.

  “This isn't going to end well,” Jori growled and kicked once again at the sausage fingers at the door. The bus rocked violently and cracks weaved their way across the windshield. Jori's face twisted in a fierce scowl as he observed one of the cracks snake its way toward the steering wheel.

  “It is over if they get through that windshield,” Yori remarked.

  “What if we head to the upper level of the bus and pick them off from there?” I asked.

  Yori and Jori looked at each other and nodded in unison. “Let's do it!” Jori agreed and led us toward the stairs.

  “Hey, wait a minute, don't leave me here!” Mazu shouted.

  I scrambled up the stairs and almost tripped over one of the dead guards. His throat was slashed open in a macabre smile and congealed blood had pooled around him. I stepped over his corpse, opened one of the windows and started firing at our attackers. I took out two whose bloated, deformed bodies were stuck in the windows. Two more pulled out the corpses and slid through the windows before we could take them out. A brief scuffle could be heard downstairs before an ear-splitting scream wafted upstairs. The scream ended abruptly and turned into a choked gurgling sound before falling silent.

  “Well, there goes our hostage,” Jori lamented before firing another shot into the crowd.

  Yori took up a defensive position at as the two Forsaken ascended the stairs. “Stand back, it's a bit tight here,” he commanded.

  The four of us continued to fire from the windows picking off whoever we could, focusing on those who managed to reach the shattered windows. The first Forsaken to reach the top of the stairs was Quasimodo. He clutched a crude spear with a bent tip. The blade was covered in fresh blood.

  Yori swung his sword, but it was parried by the headless hunchback. The face on his hump smiled viciously. He saw an opening and moved in for the kill, which was his mistake. Yori realized his opponent would underestimate him so he faked another strike which Quasimodo casually knocked away. With a violent thrust, his sword was sticking from the creature's side. He screamed and it was such a high pitch that I was convinced it would shatter the remaining windows. Yori held onto his sword and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling down the stairs into the other Forsaken. The momentum carried them both to the bottom. Suddenly, the rocking of the bus stopped and new voices could be heard outside.

  “Something is happening out there,” Vigil said.

  I ran to the nearest window in time to see plasma beams striking down The Forsaken caught in the rear. Those closest to the bus turned and formed a defensive perimeter. The Forsaken cried out in terror as each plasma beam seared their flesh. The smoke from the carnage wafted through our windows, causing me to gag.

  “What's going on?” I wheezed.

  “It appears we are being rescued,” Jori replied.”

  “Yours?” Kedge asked.

  Yori shook his head. “Our people do not have weapons like that.”

  “Neither does the Order,” Jori countered.

  “Ours?” Kedge turned to Vigil.

  A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “Not that I'm aware of.”

  I peered out the window. The smoke was beginning to clear and I could see shapes emerging from the woods. At first, I thought they were armored people, but as they came closer, I realized they were not people at all. They were robots—about twenty in total. Black robots with arms outstretched and smoking fingers. Familiar robots.

  “It can't be,” I muttered. “It's impossible!”

  “What is it, Nathan?” Kedge asked.

  Before I could answer, a man stepped from the woods with a rifle in his hands. He removed the dark goggles from his eyes and rested them on the top of his head. “Cease fire!” he shouted.

  “Janero!” I cried and turned to Jori. “We need to get out of here now!”

  He nodded. “Say no more.” He hurried down the stairs and shot a surviving Forsaken in the head as it tried to clamber up the stairs.

  We followed him. I reached the bottom of the stairs just as he leapt into the driver seat. The windshield was a mess. It was cracked so badly that I could barely see out of it. Yori picked up The Forsaken's bent spear and smashed it outward. Jori slammed on the gas and the momentum of the vehicle threw me into the corpse of Mazu. A blood-filled gash was embedded in the side of his neck. I felt a wave of panic wash over me, but closed my eyes and remembered Vanth's teachings: “Fear is a tool of emotion. It can be turned into a weapon, just like any other tool. Always remember that Nathan.” With my eyes closed, I remembered.

  My eyes flew open when I heard the first crash. Jori slammed the bus into the first wave of robots. It wasn't long before the bus was rocked with explosions. Janero's men of metal fired on us. The rear window exploded and shattered glass flew into my face. Luckily for me, I managed to get my arm up in time to deflect most of it and save my eyes.

  “To hell with this,” Vigil growled. His bracelet came to life and he fired. Bolts of pure white energy shot from his wrist and out the rear window, striking several of the robots. They exploded in a burst of sparks and dropped to the ground.

  “After them!” Janero shouted to his minions. His face was a twisted visage of fury as he fired at us. The shots were wild and came nowhere near the bus.

  “Your rage blinds you Janero!” I shouted before firing my rifle, taking out two more of the advancing robots. They faded in the distance as Jori picked up speed.

  “It looks like we are in the clear,” Kedge remarked.

  Jori uttered a dry laugh. “For now. Once we get to the bridge crossing the Po River, I will feel much better about our chance.”

  “How far is that?” I asked.

  “Not far,” he replied. “It's right before the Terminal checkpoint.”
r />   “Another checkpoint?” Kedge asked sourly.

  “Listen, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have The Forsaken all around us. Also, Braxii and the Order are aware of our escape, which means every checkpoint between here and the moon will now be on high alert.”

  “And it seems the Consortium has forces here to support the Order,” Yori added. “If we make it to the Terminal alive, it would be a miracle.”

  “Gee, thanks for the comforting words,” Kedge barked.

  “See that tower in the distance?” Jori gestured out the windshield to what appeared to be the largest cell phone tower in existence. It lingered over the distant tree line like a father watching its children. “That tower is controlled by the Order from the Temple. It emits a high range tractor beam which will bring down any hostile ship attempting to enter or leave the planet's orbit. Even if you manage to find your friends, there is no way you are getting off this planet without taking out that tower first.”

  I sighed and fell into the nearest couch. “And the hits just keep on coming.”

  Yori approached and stood over me, tapping his sword against his shoulder. “Don't worry about the tower. That's where we come in.”

  “We have enough plastic explosives in the cargo hold of this vehicle to blow that tower out of the galaxy,” Jori said. “This is the plan: We will drop you off as soon as we cross the bridge, where you will head east toward the Terminal. We will head west and take out that tower.”

  “You will know it is safe to take off when you hear the explosion,” Yori added. “The Order will be more concerned with sending his forces after us than dealing with a lone ship of the Insurgents.”

  I smiled and relaxed. It seemed to be a good plan and since the rebels knew the layout of these lands better than we did, I assumed it would work. Kedge and I exchanged looks and he smiled before offering me a nod. It seemed he agreed with my silent assessment. Our confidence was high until we reached the bridge.

  “Oh no,” Jori gasped.

  We stood up and moved toward the front of the bus to see what his concern was. “Damn it!” Yori cried.

  Up ahead, the bridge was long and wide with arching steel girders running along the entire span. It reminded me of railroad trestles I had seen on the outskirts of Albuquerque. The bridge stood about fifty feet from the river below. The river roared underneath and smashed against the concrete support pillars. It was about thirty feet wide and seemed rough to cross due to the currents. I lamented that fact because swimming the river seemed our only chance at survival. Up ahead, the bridge was blocked by several large, horned animals that were powder-white in color and looked like something out of Jurassic Park. They had three horns and thick, loose folds of skin that covered them like armor. Atop each animal sat one of the Order's golden soldiers, heavily armed and pointing their rifles toward us. Behind them were soldiers atop what appeared to be nothing more than four wheeled all-terrain vehicles. These soldiers were different, however, for they were not adorned in armor, but rather bright red sashes, which hung loosely around their waists. When I saw those belts, my heart sank and I knew our slim chances just fell even further.

  The Scarlet Moon.

  Calypso

  “He's too dangerous to keep alive,” Hark-Kalech counseled.

  Calypso picked at his fingernails with the end of a dagger. He looked up when Hark-Kalech spoke. “You may be right,” he agreed with a shrug. He returned his attention to his pinky finger and dug a sliver of grime from underneath the nail.

  Kale and Hark-Kalech looked at each other before returning their attention to him. “This is a serious matter Calypso,” Kale insisted.

  “Indeed it is,” he replied as he continued whittling away at the nail. “Perhaps you should marinate on this little fact, my friends. What will be the repercussion of murdering one of the Timeless?” When they remained silent, he answered for them. “Some of the fringe planets who remain our allies will not remain that for very long. Some of these planets are bound to us through visions of peace and prosperity, but if we start murdering hostages, how will that look?”

  “What do you propose we do?” Kale asked.

  Calypso looked up and placed the dagger gently on the table. “We continue ahead as planned.” He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “The Insurgents are a minor annoyance that will be dealt with in due time. More are siding with us in this conflict every day. The Insurgent's allies will soon follow suit when they see the war is unwinnable for them.”

  He went to the window and stared outside with his hands clasped behind his back. They were on schedule to reach Caelum before the end of the day. Where I can finally take my place as the rightful leader of the Consortium, he thought. The plot to defeat Meta and usurp the command of the organization had gone as planned. There had been a few issues along the way, but nothing he hadn't been able to handle. Just like he handled Solomon Corvus.

  The communicator on the wall interrupted his thoughts. “Calypso, we are receiving an incoming message from the planet Gliese.”

  “I will be right down,” he replied. Before leaving the room, he turned to his two Council members. “To respond to your quandary regarding our guest, he is to be confined and treated as a prisoner of war until I decide otherwise.”

  Calypso left them grumbling amongst themselves. He had more important matters to tend to. He couldn't kill Moro yet because he still provided a valuable bargaining chip in dealing with the Insurgents. Killing him was not an option at this point in time, not yet.

  When he stepped onto the bridge, Braxii's distressed face loomed on the overhead screen.

  “Hello Braxii, I hope all is well,” Calypso said cheerfully. The question had been rhetorical, of course. The look of dismay on his face told the story before a word had even been spoken.

  “I'm afraid I am the bearer of bad news, Calypso,” Braxii grumbled. “The group the Insurgents had sent has escaped.”

  Calypso's face darkened. “How could this happen?” he growled. “I sent men. How could you fail in containing a small group of people?”

  “Rebels,” he replied, as if the word would explain failure of epic proportions.

  Calypso slammed his hand down on the console, startling the helmsman. “The rebels are nothing more than cavemen who couldn't organize a successful strike against a school of handicapped children,” he growled. “Those were your words to me not long ago.”

  “Brasus will help us locate them,” he replied calmly. “He always delivers in our time of need.”

  Calypso clenched his jaw and gripped the end of the console panel until his knuckles were nothing more than white dots against the charcoal gray exterior. He despised nothing more than religious fanaticism. He hated the Order for their beliefs, but he needed their forces, as well as their exports.

  “Well just in case Brasus is on a lunch break or something, I will have my men lead the recovery efforts.” Calypso let go of the console and cracked his knuckles.

  “They won't get far,” Braxii offered. “No ships can leave orbit unless I allow it. They are still on the planet surface. We will find them.”

  Calypso nodded briskly and flipped off the overhead. He turned and simmered on the inside as he left the bridge. Nathan was part of their group, he was sure of it. Capturing them would have all but assured an end to the war before it even began. With Moro and Nathan captured, the Insurgents would have had little choice, but to surrender.

  He stomped through the halls and let his anger fade. They would be in Caelum in less than a day and he couldn't afford any more setbacks. He had worked so hard in undoing everything Meta had done. In his final days of lunacy, the High Prince succeeded in fracturing most of the Consortium's allegiances and it fell to him to see those restored.

  He entered his quarters and entered the bathroom where he stopped in front of the mirror. He ran his hand through his hair and winced at how gaunt he had become. Trying to restore the Consortium had taken its toll on him. He wasn't eatin
g, he barely slept. To be honest, he looked like absolute crap.

  “It will all be worth it,” he reassured himself. “It will,” he repeated and splashed water on his face. A lock of scarlet hair fell across his eyes and he brushed it aside.

  He stretched out across the bed and closed his eyes. Memories of his son filled his thoughts. The boy had been sacrificed by Meta, stolen away in his prime. “Small sacrifices for the greater good,” Calypso had been told at the time.

  “I would sacrifice this entire universe to have him back. There is no greater good,” Calypso whispered before drifting to sleep.

  The Plan

  The idling of the bus engine rumbled through my skull like a thunderstorm. It could have just as easily been an announcement of an impending death sentence. Ahead of us stood an army of twenty soldiers, prepared to gun us down at a moment's notice. Behind us sat the hostile lands of The Forsaken and the incoming robot army of Janero.

  “So what's the plan?” Kedge asked.

  Jori's eyes were ebony orbs nestled under his protruding forehead. He fixed his gaze on the army ahead with deep concentration. A low rumble emitted from his throat and I wasn't completely sure if it was a growl or a burp.

  “The plan is to get you people out of here,” he explained. “Follow the riverbank southeast until you reach the narrowest point. You know you are there because there will be an old house, green in color, erected against the tree line. It's most likely surrounded by weeds now because old man Marsten died years ago, but you can't miss it.”

  “What about you two?” I asked.

  Jori laid his hand on the steering wheel and smirked. “I'm going to drive this thing right smack into the middle of them.”

  “What?” Kedge exclaimed. “That's suicide!”

  “Maybe,” Yori said before producing a black cylindrical object from his pocket. He looked at it with a grim expression.