Spectra's Gambit

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Spectra's Gambit Page 23

by Vincent Trigili


  “I understand, and at least I can take comfort in the fact that you are in good hands with Nanny here,” he said. He bowed to Nanny and said, “Thank you again for taking care of them. I hope that someday you can come to meet Flame and the twins.”

  “I would like that very much,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As I left Master Dusty and Master Spectra behind, I realized I was alone again. I was making good time on the waves of energy that ruled this world, traveling perhaps a hundred times faster than I could on foot, but there was nothing to see. There was nothing to look at and no one to talk to. It was just uniform greyness in every direction.

  Flying as fast as I was, I passed many examples of what I assumed were the natives that Spectra had mentioned. They were ghosts or spirits of various sizes, colors and shapes, none of which I could name. They ignored me as I flew past them, and I knew nothing of what they were doing.

  Time seemed to have no real meaning there, and I had no idea how long I had been flying for. I knew I was still going in the direction that Spectra had indicated, but I did not know how far I would have to travel. It would have been good to find that out before leaving. Too late now to worry about that; all I could do was keep going.

  I could not get the image of Saraphym out of my mind. Every time my mind started to drift and I felt the slightest temptation to sip at some of the power I was flying through, the desire was overridden by her image. I was grateful for that help, but it only served to remind me again of how alone I was. However, I knew that Nanny needed me to do this, and I could think of no one more worthy of a favor, even if she was a ghost.

  Nanny was an interesting being, and I wondered if she was really dead or if there was some other way a spirit, or ghost or whatever she was could be called into existence. I could not imagine anyone killing such a grandmotherly-like person, but great evil abounds everywhere these days.

  Eventually the horizon changed. I could just make out distinct shapes that slowly became discernible as trees as I got closer. They had some color, but it was muted and bland. I could not guess what kind of trees they were, nor what the season was, by looking at them; it was just a uniform scene of bland shapes that vaguely resembled a forest.

  Now, where is that volcano? I asked myself. I flew higher to get a better look, and off in the distance I saw a large cloud of smoke rising up. Assuming that to be the volcano, I turned toward it and flew high above the forest. Spectra said that some people had moved here for various reasons, and if they came to this realm, I imagined they would choose to live in the forest rather than the plains. I felt no inclination to meet any of them, so I stayed high and clear.

  As I got closer to the volcano, I had to fly lower and lower to keep under the smoke until I was forced to land in the forest just to stay clear of it. My native form was too large to maneuver among the trees, so I had to revert back to my bipedal form.

  There was a trail that seemed to lead in the direction of the volcano and was well worn. Given the dangers of this realm, I was not sure it was a good idea to be on the trail, but I decided speed was more important than safety at this point. The sooner I found this tribe, the sooner I could get out of this smog and get safely airborne again.

  I set off at a jog, hoping to eat up some miles without wearing myself out, but I hadn’t got far before I ran into my first problem. This took the form of two humanoids wearing grey robes and holding staves. I could not see their faces, but their hands looked ancient beyond reason. They were waiting for me as I rounded a turn in the trail.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here?” asked one.

  “Looks like dinner,” said the other.

  They spread out and moved in, swinging their staves in large sweeping motions. I dropped back into a defensive crouch and then started to counter their moves with a circle, not wanting to get caught between them. Those staves would give them a much greater range, and I did not want to test my swords against them.

  “Really, it would be best if you just let me pass,” I said.

  “Now, what fun would that be?” asked one of them as he lunged with a straight jab from his staff. The other one jumped to one side with a large swinging motion of his staff, in an attempt to drive me into the other’s attack path.

  I countered by jumping straight back out of their reach, and then tried to circle around them again. If I could get them in a line then I could make my move against just one of them, but they did not give me that opportunity.

  They tried several more simultaneous attacks with the goal of putting me between them, but I kept backing down the trail, staying well out of reach. I knew that I could not let the stalemate continue indefinitely, so I decided to try to break it.

  When the closer of the two moved in for his hit, I charged the other at full speed, leaping into his strike. I caught his staff on my arm, well inside the swing where it had no real force, while bringing up my elbow and striking him across the face with my armored arm. There was a sickening crack as my elbow contacted the top of his jaw, rocking his head back.

  Before he could recover, I grabbed his staff and used it as a lever to swing him around and into his partner who was advancing to strike at my exposed back. His partner’s staff came across hard and hit the first attacker cleanly in the temple. The second attacker leapt back to evaluate the situation and I dropped his partner, whom I assumed was killed by that blow. He fell to the ground and did not move.

  The remaining attacker still had the upper hand by virtue of the greater reach of his staff, but he was a lot less confident now.

  “I warned you to let me pass,” I said and dropped back into a defensive stance to see what he would do next.

  He slowly backed away, and I did not press in. He spun the staff around his body a few times as he backed. I assumed he was stalling while he decided his next move, but I was wrong; he was creating some distance between us.

  He pulled something out of his robe and threw it in my direction. I jumped back; it hit the ground in front of me and exploded. As the power from the explosion wrapped over me, I allowed it to flow into my body. I absorbed all that I could, not knowing when I would have another chance of a meal.

  “I hope you have more where that came from,” I said and started to walk toward him.

  He said, “Another time!” and vanished.

  I turned back toward the volcano and resumed my jog. I did not want to wait around to see if that explosion attracted what Master Spectra called ‘more dangerous ones’.

  I jogged on for a good while until I was nearly spent. I still did not have a grasp of time, but I knew I needed to rest. I climbed up a tree into the smog layer. My armor would protect me from dangerous acidity in the cloud, and the cloud would obscure me from view. I found a place to wedge myself in and risked getting some sleep.

  I figured I got several hours of sleep up there and decided to get moving again. I slowly climbed down out of the smoke to see if my friend with the staff had come back, but the trail was empty in both directions. I resumed my jog toward the volcano through the bland forest, trying to keep my mind off the fact that there was delicious power flowing all around me. The material that Saraphym had tied to my armor glowed gently, and I could almost smell her scent and feel her presence. It brought back memories of our time flying together in space, and that first kiss.

  I had packed some military-style rations, so I stopped to eat, hoping that would help, but it just reminded me that I was hungry for energy also. Surely just a little sip of power would not hurt, I thought to myself. Who knows how much longer I will be stuck here?

  Even as I formed those thoughts an image of the beautiful Saraphym came to mind again. She was so graceful and delicate. I could remember her colors, and that oh-so-brief taste of her lips. The image filled me with new resolve. I got back to my feet and continued my jog.

  The bland woods passed by with no discernible markings or anything much to note. There was no
sound of animals, nor any scent of plants. It was almost as if it were an artificial forest made out of synthetic materials. The jog became quite mind-numbing after a while.

  Crack! came a sound behind me, awakening me from my stupor. As I spun toward the sound, I saw something flying toward me. I dropped to the ground and rolled off the trail, springing back to my feet to see a large, hairy humanoid charging, holding a club over its head.

  Not knowing how strong or fast it was, I quickly stepped inside to its right at a forty-five-degree angle and slammed the top of my armored boot into its chest with a flip kick that completely caught the creature by surprise. It doubled over and fell to the ground, but then I saw it draw power from the club it was wielding and stand back up as if it had not been hurt at all.

  Not good, I thought to myself and drew my swords.

  We began to circle each other. It seemed to have gained a new respect for me after that kick. Its head was shaped like a dog’s with large fangs that looked capable of ripping me to shreds. It was wearing only its own fur and a few scraps of what might have been clothes at one time, if that time was long in the past.

  Whoever this creature was, it was smart and patient. It feinted several times, testing my reach and reflexes. It must have known that my swords were superior weapons to its club, but I suspect it held the advantage in strength and endurance.

  It finally decided it had had enough of feinting and charged towards me. This time I stepped to the outside of its attack and slashed up with my swords as I spun around behind it. I felt my blade cut into flesh as it howled in pain.

  Before I could continue and counter-attack from behind it, it leapt out of reach. It switched its club to its other hand, since its primary arm was a bloody mess. I could see it pull power from the club again and its wounds started to heal right before my eyes.

  Oh, that is really not good! I thought to myself and rushed in to press an attack before it healed too much. I swung my swords hard and fast, trying to damage anything I could, hoping to slow down its healing. Under the pressure of my constant attack, it finally made a mistake and took a desperate swing at me. I met its arm right at the base of the wrist with my sword and neatly removed the hand holding the club.

  I spun off as it fell back screaming in pain. It made a desperate dive for the club, but I met it in the air with a swift jump sidekick, firmly planting my heel into its side and knocking it off course. The creature fell to the ground, doubled over and bleeding from probably a dozen wounds. It continued to claw for the club, and I realized that I had to finish it off or it would just keep coming for me. I stepped over and with one fast swipe, slashed through where I expected the jugular to be and put the poor beast out of its misery.

  I stumbled away from the corpse and leaned against a tree to catch my breath. When I looked over at the club, I was terrified by what I saw: the hand that was still attached was slowly growing a wrist, and then an arm.

  I rushed over to it and ripped off the arm; then I placed my hands on the club and sucked all the power out of it. Once I had done that, I risked using a little bit of its own power to blast it to pieces. Remembering Spectra’s warning, I knew I had to take off, though I wished I could have given the creature a proper burial. It had fought valiantly.

  Too tired and sore to jog, I set my face toward the volcano and started walking.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Henrick appeared in part of a forest which had recently been devastated by a terrible storm of power. Trees were burnt and twisted, underbrush was in piles, and stone debris was everywhere. It looked as if the apocalypse had come early to this area of the forest.

  Henrick seemed to be sightseeing. He paused and checked various piles of debris as he slowly made his way toward the center of the destruction. He climbed over the remains of a wall and headed toward the center of the ruins of an ancient castle.

  “Hello, Curetes,” said Henrick, as the steel-eyed man appeared. “This must have been an awesome battle to watch.”

  He raised up his arms and called out a command word. All around him as far as the eye could see appeared transparent representations of warriors at battle. Many were skeletal, but there were several other kinds of creatures also.

  “Indeed,” said Curetes as he surveyed the battle.

  “Here,” said Henrick, as he stood where the stone floor was scorched. “This is where the table was, and where Narcion’s final battle in this world took place.”

  “It is a shame he was lost. He could have been a major asset,” said Curetes.

  “That he would have been. An elite necromancer who wanted nothing but to be good would have made easy pickings for us,” said Henrick. They walked around a bit more as Henrick looked over his translucent combatants. “But you did not come out here merely to see the sights. What news do you bear?”

  “Flame is pregnant,” said Curetes.

  “Yes, with twins. They will be quite a handful for their young parents,” said Henrick.

  Curetes shook his head in amazement. “They will be magi, then?”

  “Oh, they will assuredly be born with power. This will be only the second family among high-ranking wizards this realm has seen in ten thousand years,” said Henrick.

  “But that does not mean they will be magi?” asked Curetes.

  “No, but I believe they will be. I expect they will be among the best of their generation, suitable heirs to their parents,” said Henrick.

  “Then we should recruit them as early as we can,” said Curetes.

  “Oh, we will try, but I do not anticipate success. However, they will make other magi children jealous, and those children we will be able to recruit with ease.”

  “What about Vydor’s children? They have not yet shown any power,” said Curetes.

  “They will. They are also certainly magi. At some point very soon their powers will be awakened, and then they will also be great,” said Henrick.

  “Awakened?” repeated Curetes.

  “Yes; it seems apparent that far more magi are born than anyone knows. Typically there is some awakening in the life of the magus and then their powers manifest themselves,” said Henrick.

  “Then some die never knowing they are magi?” asked Curetes.

  “Sadly, that seems to be possible. Neither the wizards nor I have found a way to detect them before their power is awakened, so there is currently no way to be sure,” said Henrick.

  “Yet you know that these children are magi?” asked Curetes.

  “Sometimes the future is easier to see than at other times,” said Henrick.

  They walked away from the center of the ruins, heading towards a wooded area far enough from the epicenter to have survived the blast.

  “Are all children of magi parents magi themselves?” asked Curetes.

  “No one knows. Are they magi whose powers never awaken, or merely mundane? All we know for sure is that some never come to power and some do,” said Henrick.

  “Then we should be watching the wizards for more couples?” asked Curetes.

  “Yes, every child born of two magi parents should be watched closely. The odds seem higher among magi. We should be able to find some friends among them, especially if Shadow and Vydor’s children occupy the spotlight,” said Henrick.

  “I will make a note of that,” said Curetes.

  “What of Spectra’s team?” asked Henrick.

  “They are still traveling under cloak, but we found Greymere,” said Curetes.

  “Oh?” asked Henrick.

  “He is running an unknown mission in the Spirit Realm,” said Curetes.

  “Now, that is very interesting. Keep a tail on him and let me know what he is doing,” said Henrick.

  “Already done,” said Curetes.

  “And if he gets in trouble, send some help his way,” said Henrick.

  Curetes smiled. There was something in that smile that was more frightening than comforting. “Of course; that is what
any good neighbor would do. So far, though, he has held his own very well. I think we may have underestimated him.”

  Henrick walked up to a makeshift table made out of stone pieces from the castle. “Ah, here we are.”

  Curetes looked around and asked, “Where?”

  “This is Narcion’s funeral pyre,” said Henrick.

  “Ah,” said Curetes.

  “You are wondering why that matters,” said Henrick. “Narcion left behind a woman, and that woman holds a key to knowledge that I want.”

  “But how does this table help?” asked Curetes.

  “They were lovers,” said Henrick. “She is bound to come back here to visit this site from time to time.”

  “I see; so you want me to have this place watched?” asked Curetes.

  “Yes. When she returns, let me know right away,” said Henrick.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Quitting time, Chrimson! See you tomorrow,” said my crew chief.

  It had been weeks since I’d found my way to this station and there still was no sign of Dusty’s team. To pass the time, I took a job as a mechanic in the main maintenance bay for the station. The pay was not great, but it kept me close to one of the busiest docking arms and gave me access to the port operations log, which told me exactly who came and went every day.

  This station was my best bet for finding them, but once again another day had gone by without any recorded arrival of a ship matching their class or designation. The information I had read told me they traveled covertly at all times, so I kept my search parameters as wide as was reasonable, but still nothing. No ship approaching their specifications had docked with the station.

  I sighed and headed to the pub for dinner with the rest of the low-income workers. It was not so bad working as a mechanic; at least I was making enough money to support myself, and I was even learning more about the proper way to fix things. If I stayed here much longer, I might actually earn a real certification for a change.

 

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