Brasil was hit hard as another canine-like shadow leaped at him and knocked him off his feet. He struggled under the one on top of him, avoiding eye contact with it as he tried to push it off. “What are ye waiting for?!”
Seeing more starting to pile on top of Brasil, Victorio shook in terror, his grip on the weapon slick from sweat. “Where do we go?” he shouted back, knocking one off Brasil.
“Anywhere!” he screamed. “Anywhere—jus’ now!”
Without even thinking, Victorio made a sweeping motion with the Spear, and a rush came over him—a shifting of air that signaled he was taking his friends through space. A distant thought came to him as he felt his feet leave the floorboards. Where exactly would they end up if he hadn’t decided on a place before he activated the teleport?
It was too late to worry by that point.
As the world around them solidified, Victorio felt the rush of energy leave him, and he collapsed onto his knees. He panted heavily, less from the power used to move between dimensions and more from the pounding fear now waning. Beneath him was cold cobblestone, and around them was darkness.
Blearily he turned his head to see Brasil sit up and cough weakly. He looked at Victorio with a self-conscious smile and reached a hand to his shoulder. “Ye did fine. Thank you.”
Gatina let out a long, heavy sigh and flopped beside Brasil. “You look awful,” she said tiredly, staring up at him and studying his injuries.
“I feel awful,” Brasil mumbled, wincing as she prodded his scrapes and bruises. He idly placed his beaten flat cap back on his head and glanced around them, soaking in the alleyway. “Where d’ye s’pose we are?”
Victorio shrugged. “I didn’t…really know where I was going when I shifted.”
“I think I know,” Gatina offered. She glanced around them as she brought herself to her feet (very painfully, Victorio noted), considering the stone beneath them and the alleyway leading to lit streets. She turned in place and smiled. With her wand, she gestured to the edge of the alley, and the quaint thoroughfare close by. “Yep. No doubt about it. We’re in Liminal City.”
“Liminal City?” Victorio repeated, leaning in the direction she pointed. He raised his eyebrows as he soaked in the fanciful-looking square ahead of them. Iron lamp posts lined the cobblestone streets, all brightly lit to create a warm glow over the earthy stone of the buildings and their red and brown-shingled roofs. The houses looked something like out of a storybook or a theme park, all of them were too well-planned to be an ordinary city—and no stray weeds or birds were anywhere to be seen.
“Also called the City Between or the Infinite City,” Gatina said. “It’s a nexus, a place between dimensions. There were plenty of ‘in-between’ places we might have ended up, but this one isn’t so bad,” she assured him. “I can think of at least one that would’ve been a big problem…”
“Wha’s done is done,” Brasil said. “It’s as good a place as any to collect ourselves.”
“What are we going to do?” Victorio asked.
“For one, get in condition to leave. You too drained for any healing, Gatti?”
Sullenly she nodded, as worn as him. “Just…Just gimme a bit.”
With a soft hiss, Brasil slowly pulled himself to his feet. “Then we wait until we get word from the rest of the Cartesian Guards.” Brasil let out a weary sigh and hooked his hands on his belt.
“What about the Runner?” Victorio said.
Closing his eyes and rubbing his face, Brasil shook his head. “She…It breaks my heart, but we can’t get back to ‘er anytime soon.” Despondent, his eyes swiveled to the ground as he added, “She may not be in one piece if we find ‘er again.”
Gatina sniffed, and Victorio jammed his hands in his pockets. Imagining his new house wrecked…Brasil was right, it was heartbreaking. Victorio had just gotten used to living there. All the meals, how comfortable his bed was, all the places he’d seen from her railing…
“Why did the Empty attack the Runner?” he asked. “Why did…Why did only you two get hurt?”
“Why would the Empty even go after a flying boat?” Gatina added. “There’s nothing on the Runner that would gain them anything.”
Brasil’s face grew hard. “Except two members of the Guard.”
A chilling silence fell. Victorio swallowed nervously, taken aback by the implication. “You mean…You mean you think the Empty were purposefully going after you guys?”
“Babel, the Runner,” Brasil said. “The Empty have never attacked any places under protection before.”
“I’ve never even heard of them going out of their way to attack anyone aside from consuming worlds,” Gatina added. “This is…This is different. And the only way they could have attacked us was…was if the protections weren’t there.”
Brasil folded his arms over his wide chest, staring back at the ground. “The Empty have Enki. Or killed…” His voice broke, but after softly clearing his throat, he finished, “Or he’s dead.”
The word caused Victorio to blurt, “Don’t say that! There has to be a way to get him back. But…What would the Empty do with him if they have him?”
His companions turned to each other, expressions worried. Brasil shook his head. “We ‘af to wait for the Guard.”
“Brasil,” Gatina began low. “They’ll absorb him and turn him into one of their agents. He’s a god. We can’t imagine what they’ll be capable of with that kind of power…!”
Brasil winced and rubbed his face. “Who knows what they’ll do. Yer right, of course. We can’t waste any time.”
Chapter Sixteen
Spoils of War
The Agent of Chaos smiled widely as she strode into the hall of the High Forger. As her high heels sharply stabbed into the twisted tile her steps were full of pride, the path of a conqueror in victory. Behind her, servants of Entropy followed. In their shadowy, blurry arms they held the pathetic form of a god as her trophy. The humbled, beaten Enki was unconscious, though his closed eyes twitched anxiously from nightmares that invaded him in the home of half his being.
On their throne at the great forge waited Arges, who leaned forward eagerly. “My master…what a pleasant surprise! You bring to me not writhing, screaming mortals, but the god himself.”
“This one is the keystone to the Spear Bearer’s allies,” she informed them as she stopped at the base of the forge. “Without him, the Spear Bearer will be isolated, alone. Enki’s minions will be scattered throughout the multiverse—finding them and eradicating those left will be like driving out vermin from their nest.”
A low, ashen chuckle rattled from the darkness of Arges’ robes. “My honor to you, Master. Please, command us. What do you wish of your forgers?”
“He will be one of us,” she said coldly, pointing a finger at Enki. “Have your smiths remake him. Let the flames and hammers reshape him until he bows at your feet, Arges. Nothing shall remain of what was once Enki.”
Within the shadows of Arges’ robes, a huge, central eye opened fully, lit by the flames of the forges. “No. My forgers will but observe. None have the skill other than me.” Powerfully they stood and thrust off their outer robes. While their servants all had heads that surrounded their huge, single eyes, Arges had none. Instead of a head, a swarm of smaller, rotating eyes circled a massive central one that hung in the formless nothing. Their muscled, stocky frame straightened to its full height, their lower robes the only thing that covered them. The forge behind them erupted in violent flame, and their thick, calloused hands clenched. “And it will be my pleasure.”
Her servants whimpered and shrank back from the searing light and the heat of Arges’ power. The face of the Black only smiled serenely.
Chapter Seventeen
Favors
The three stepped into the brightly lit streets and Victorio was struck with awe for a moment, but he forced himself not to pause to keep in line with his friends’ casual paces. Liminal City was full of more races, species, and varied cultures mish-ma
shed together than he had ever seen—the zig didn’t even come close to comparing. Over there a lizard person was talking with an android with lit up joints; on the street corner a tan-skinned elf wrote in a thin notebook and brushed aside neck-length, black hair; nearby, a small group of cute, rainbow-colored, shaggy dogs carried backpacks and exploration gear; down the road a cart rolled forward, dragged not by horses, but rickshaw-style by a hulking, furry, troll-like woman with massive tusks. No one’s clothes matched at all for some reason—leather with denim, fantasy jerkins paired with sci-fi flight jackets, Victorian corsets with yoga pants—all of it making the three of them look extremely well dressed in comparison. Victorio never thought skater shorts and graffiti tees could look special, but apparently, he was wrong.
No one gave them a second glance. For the moment, they appeared safe.
“Alright, so what’s our plan?” Victorio asked, trying to drag his attention back to the matter at hand.
Brasil, uncharacteristically anxious, sighed heavily. “Plan? Well, I plan to wait for Gatina to get me healed enough to breathe properly. The way it hurts when I do anything, I think a rib may be broken.”
“Keep your voice down,” Gatina hissed at him, eyeing the crowds.
Likely not hearing her, he continued. “And then we stay here and wait for at least word from the Guard. If it’s just the three of us, what else can we do?”
“Hey, since when do you talk like that?” Victorio said, stopping. When his friends paused and faced him, he planted his hands on his hips. “Somebody has to go after Enki.”
“Into the center of the Black?” Brasil scoffed. “Yer protected as the Spear Bearer from what it does t’people, but Gatti and I’d never be able to get through it.”
In frustration at another word with connotations he didn’t recognize, Victorio frowned. “The ‘black’?”
“Sort of, the stuff that universes are made of,” Gatina said. “It’s nothingness, and most people can’t take looking into it. That’s where the Empty thrive.”
“Reason number two we wait for others,” Brasil said with a firm nod. “There has to be some way with combined efforts to find a path through the Black.”
“There’s gotta be a way I can do it,” Victorio protested. “We don’t have time to argue it, we have to find a way to get to him. I mean, I can take you places, why not just straight there?”
He heard Gatina let out a frustrated groan. “Don’t bring that up in the middle of the—”
“How, you been?” Brasil said to Victorio. He faced Gatina. “You up for any mending? Without our full—”
“I said both of you watch your mouths!” she growled, her eyes shifting again.
Brasil paused. “Gatti, is there something I should know?”
“That nexuses are dangerous, their residents are often trapped and desperate,” she said, “and keeping secrets is wise.”
“Secrets?” a new voice chimed in.
Gatina winced and her eyes widened in recognition.
Victorio and Brasil looked to the new voice, and Victorio gasped audibly. In a crisp, pinstripe vest, slacks, and a slate-colored shirt was a skeleton. He approached the three with a swagger, craning himself near Gatina and facing her gaze with his empty sockets. “Why ‘secrets’ is my favorite word. And look at you, haven’t seen you in quite a while,” he continued. “Hiding yourself away, G…Uh…S-Smokey, right?”
Slowly her ears flattened, and she stared at this unwelcome undead with an impatient glare. “Yes. Yes, Smokey. That is absolutely my name.”
“Of course,” he said, standing straight. “And, oh dear, Smokey, looks like that surefire way out of town didn’t quite work out, did it?”
Gatina shrugged to the skeleton. “No, it sure didn’t. I guess you were right all along, Clipper.” With urgency, she gestured to Victorio and Brasil to move in the opposite direction. “Guess I’m stuck in this city for good.” She cleared her throat and attempted to change the conversation. “Wellp, I better take my—”
“Now if you want a real way out,” Clipper jumped in, a dip to his voice. He slid beside Brasil and hooked an arm around his shoulder. “Then I can get it for ya. I mean, I owe one or two favors to Smokey, any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”
“You know, that’s starting to sound really good, but sorry, Clipper,” Gatina said with an all-too-sugary smile, plucking Clipper’s arm off Brasil. “We’ll have to find you later. We have favors to pay back—just so busy, busy. Ta!” She pushed Victorio and Brasil forward, and under her breath, she hissed, “Just. Keep your mouths shut. And let’s move off the street.”
Brasil took Gatina’s direction without question, and his eyes softened. “This…Was it Liminal City? Was this place where…? Ye never told me, Gatti…”
“Never came up, Braz,” she huffed. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure Clipper didn’t follow. “And frankly, I don’t associate this place with any good memories.”
Victorio rapidly put together that Gatina knew Liminal City from more than passing through. He remembered when Brasil had said Gatina had woken up in a nexus after the Empty had consumed her world. “This place not as cool as it looks?”
Gatina shook her head and rolled her eyes. “People don’t show up in nexuses cuz they want to, Victorio. It just happens. Look, there’s a decent alley over this way. Maybe I can get this over with before anyone notices.”
When they ducked aside, away from any busy streets, Gatina explained that she had taken them away from where they had arrived because the nearby streets were too congested. “There’s not a lot of a lot of things here,” she said wearily, waving her wand over Brasil’s midsection while Victorio kept watch. “Healers and doctors are always in short supply. We don’t have time to draw the wrong kind of attention.”
“Ye could have made that clearer,” Brasil said.
“Or, you can just listen to me when I say to do something,” she replied. As she finished her work, she bopped the top of his head with the star on her wand.
Self-consciously Brasil chuckled and nodded. His breathing sounding better, he stood. “What a relief,” he said. Brasil stretched largely and scratched his belly. “But now we have more to worry about. It’s taking longer than I thought for the Guard to call us. We’ll just have to blend in and lay low until they do.”
Victorio’s patience had run dry, but it was easy to wait when Gatina and Brasil had been injured. Now any reason to wait was gone. “Brasil, come on. You can’t be serious about just sitting around.”
“You’re not a Cartesian Guard, but I’ve been tasked to make sure ye’re kept in one piece and that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he said, pointing a finger in Victorio’s face.
“Listen,” Victorio said. He held up a fist, his back to the streets. “I’m not sitting by and letting the Shadows have enough time to hurt Enki. The Cartesian Guards would fall apart, and—well, he got you two to me, so he’s my friend too.” Victorio watched Gatina and Brasil’s jaws drop, and he smiled. His pep talk was working.
“What he did for me matters a lot. And—I’m not letting it happen ever again,” he continued boldly. “I’m not going to be told that there’s nothing I can do to help someone. I can find us a way through the Black, and I’ll kick in the front gates if I have to—no one is going to hurt Enki! If the Spear is really all that can fight the Empty, then that’s all we need.”
As he finished, a swell of adrenaline subsided. “So, are we doing this?”
Brasil and Gatina ran at Victorio, and Brasil grabbed his shirt. “Come on, let’s go!”
To Victorio’s surprise, Brasil didn’t command him to send them anywhere. Brasil kept his hold on Victorio as they ran. The three dashed across the crowded street, both Brasil and Gatina’s energy grew exponentially, and he heard them as they ran:
“You saw that coat, didn’t you?” Gatina asked.
“The white hair, no mistaking it!” Brasil said.
They dipped into what looked like a pub,
alive with activity and the air thick with smoke. A young man had just taken a seat at the bar, and the bartender (a short, dark man with Asian features and a cigarette dangling from his lips—or wait, her lips? It was actually really hard to tell. They looked like they had boobs and a feminine face, but also had a layer of stubble) regarded the three. The mystery man’s shoulders were slumped, his chin-length hair was visible from behind him—the top of his hair was shock white and led into dark tips. A good deal of it hung over his face, making his features indistinct to Victorio.
Brasil let go of Victorio and jogged to the man’s side. “Adam Grey…It is you! We knew you hadn’t died.”
The man paused before ordering a drink but didn’t turn his head. “Great. Cartesian Guard. Barking up the wrong tree, Fido.”
Gatina hoisted herself up to reach the top of the bar, and Victorio lingered behind. Suddenly the looks on their faces during his talk made sense. As frustrating as it was, it hadn’t been his pretty awesome speech. (It was a totally awesome speech. He was sure of it.) If this guy in his early twenties had just gotten there, then he had passed behind Victorio while he was speaking. There must have been a good reason Brasil and Gatina were so intent on reaching Grey.
Brasil ignored the insult and investigated Grey’s face. “This can’t be a coincidence, Grey. The Cartesian Guards have been overtaken—”
“Didn’t have anything to do with it,” he snapped. “And it’s not my problem.”
Victorio scowled at this stranger speaking so rudely to his friend and making light of the situation. “Look, whoever this guy is, he’s a waste of time. He’s just a douchebag, anyway.”
Grey started, and slowly turned his head. His face was square, a line of white stubble lined his chin, and dark eyes studied Victorio. “So. You’re the one who replaced me, aren’t you?”
Victorio dumbly gawked at him. “W-Wait, what?”
“He was the Spear Bearer before you, Victorio,” Brasil explained gently. “If there’s anybody in the multiverse who knows how to get to the Empty’s realm, it’s him.”
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