by Stuart Jaffe
Malja did not flinch. “No matter how fast you think you are, do you really think you can outmaneuver a bullet?”
The steady click of a cocking gun echoed along the gorge walls. Malja saw the dangerous edge of a handgun’s muzzle over her shoulder. Two barrels, one atop the other, threatened to rip Reon’s head from her shoulders. Malja swore she could hear Owl grinning.
Though Reon kept her do-kha blades at the ready, she did step back. One step. That was fine by Malja. The message had been received. Besides, she had no desire for that gun to be blasting away right by her ear. Her do-kha would try to protect her by covering her head, but Malja wasn’t sure the suit would be fast enough to prevent her from going deaf.
Harskill said, “I’m disappointed. I had hoped we could be more cordial. But you only seem to become ruder each time we meet.”
“The way you go around destroying everything I care about and murdering those I know might have something to do with that.”
“Since you don’t want to talk as one Gate to another, then let me be blunt. I demand unfettered access to the Library. I will take nothing less.”
“Never will happen.”
Harskill thrust his fist into the air. From the tree line, two Gate emerged, each astride a konapol. That alone spoke to their strength. Konapols were vicious, wild animals that did not take well to being domesticated. These were huge creatures with thin, gray fur over toned muscles and comical, wrinkled faces that hid vicious teeth. In battle, these animals could be far more dangerous than the riders — except when the riders were Gate.
Behind the konapols, a small army of beasts followed — mighty colacks with their hardshell foreheads; green talisi that could cut through trees with their deadly claws; three giant gorgut towering over all with their hairy, gray skin and pungent stink; and at least a hundred men and women from the various gangs, all sporting patchwork armor and weaponry. What Harskill’s army lacked in size and skill, it clearly made up in brute strength. In one glance, Malja knew her monks were not anywhere near ready for this.
Harskill rolled his shoulders as if loosening up for the fight. “Now, you know me well enough. I would prefer to avoid bloodshed, but I have no problem should it become necessary.”
“I have no doubt.”
“Out of respect for you and all the times we’ve shared, I’m going to give you one day to come to your senses. If you still deny me access to the Library, then you can face all of that which waits behind me.”
“One day? Can your magic not keep them under control any longer than that?”
Harskill smirked. “Does it matter? Either way, when the time comes, those creatures will dismember you all with great pleasure. Oh, and I still get into the Library anyway. Think on it.”
Before Malja could respond, Harskill turned and walked back. Reon followed close behind. Malja knew better than to shout out a retort. It would sound weak and look weaker.
Walking back towards the Library, her legs shook as the bridge swayed.
“You okay?” Owl asked.
Malja clenched her jaw. She didn’t need Owl seeing any signs of weakness. “I’m fine. Just a bit confused why Harskill is giving us this time.”
“Maybe he truly wants to avoid a conflict. If his goal is peace in this world —”
“It’s not. He wants you all to bow to him like a god. It’s what he always wants.”
“Then perhaps there’s the other thing.”
Malja paused. “What other thing?”
“You hinted at it. Fawbry has been more blunt ... but perhaps Harskill really loves you.”
Malja’s fists tightened as she stormed off the bridge. Owl kept pace, unfazed by her reaction which only made her angrier. At length, she spun back at him and pointed a finger right into his face. “I am not going to let him take more people from me for some deluded love fantasy. I’m not interested in love, and I’m certainly not interested in marriage. You understand?”
Owl gently pushed her hand aside. “Then perhaps this is the reason he said these things — to anger you this much, to cause you to make poor decisions. You need to calm. You need to think clearly.”
“You don’t need to tell me how to fight. I’ve been doing it since I was a child. I know how to beat this man.”
“That is welcome news. How?”
Malja hesitated. “I don’t know specifically. I meant that I’ve done it before. We have to look at the terrain, the circumstances, all of it. We know what we’re facing now, so we must figure something out or a lot of people will die.”
Owl rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I have one idea.”
Chapter 20
Reon
Reon held her head up and her back straight as she walked along the bridge with surety. Inside, she fumed. The black man with Malja had embarrassed her in front of Lord Harskill by pointing a gun. Reon gritted her teeth. She was supposed to be the threatening one. She was supposed to embarrass Malja and her man. But even worse, Lord Harskill now played games — giving them a day! What good could come from that? Reon held her tongue.
As they joined the others, Bell Wake looked down her nose and said, “Good thing you were there to protect Harskill. I had hoped we’d be lucky and you would’ve blocked a bullet with your head.”
Lord Harskill snapped his fingers. “Bell, stop stoking that fire.”
“If I must.”
“We’re going to wait here. Give them a day. I think there’s a good chance they will surrender.”
Freen trotted over on his konapol. He still wore his favorite pinstriped suit and had added a straw hat to block out the sun. “We should attack now. They all have been lulled into thinking they have time. That makes it even easier.”
“You must trust me. I know their leader well. She won’t back down. You want a fight? There will be a fight.”
Reon spun around, her blades growing long enough to dig into the ground. “Then why do we wait? Why give them time to plan? And why did you just say that by waiting they might surrender?”
Lowering his voice, which had the duel effect of being both more personal and more threatening, Lord Harskill said, “My dear, what I said about the surrender was for this massive army. We have a lot of low-intelligence creatures in our ranks, and if we are to keep order, they must think that they know what’s going to happen. But I am telling you and Freen and Sola and Bell that there is going to be a fight, and I’ll be shocked if it takes a full day before they attack.”
“What’s the point of us waiting, then? Like Freen said — if we’ve lulled them for even a moment, we should charge in there and attack.”
“In all your experience with me, granted a limited experience but still enough time to judge, have you ever seen me do something that had not been planned out?”
Reon frowned but did not answer. Her nerves fired off worse than in any battle. Something felt off , yet she pressed on as she would with her martial arts Masters — except this was Lord Harskill.
“I promise you this is exactly what I want to happen. You don’t go into battle without a sound strategy, and I have one. I always do.”
“Tell us, then. How is this to work?”
“Enough. You don’t question me.”
Lord Harskill’s attempt to shut her down only fueled her rage. Treated like a child, given a pat on the head, and told not to worry — that was not acceptable. Besides, she had to be her best for Lord Harskill, and that was impossible without all the information.
Reon caught sight of Bell Wake, and a thought popped in her head. It exited her mouth well before she could rein it in. “This is all about Malja, isn’t it? You really do have some perversion towards her. We’re not waiting for some secret plan or some hope they’ll surrender. We’re holding back to protect her. Isn’t that right?”
Lord Harskill backhanded Reon. He moved fast and showed little effort, but the hit knocked Reon off the ground and back several feet. Blood filled her mouth and dribbled down her throat, coating it all with
a bitter, coppery taste. She sputtered and coughed. When she looked up, he stood over her.
“You seem to think higher of yourself than you really are. What other explanation can there be for you to speak to me this way? I am Gate. I have the power to travel between worlds and control them all. You are a clone of a clone of a clone. If you die today, you can be regrown. There’s only one of me, as is true of my fellow Gate — Bell, Freen, and Sola.” Lord Harskill leaned over, his eyes blazing. “And Malja, too. Oh, yes, she’s Gate. You did your job when you acquired the Soul of the Sun. I could’ve killed you then and been done with you. Or maybe I should have left you with your mother and watched you wither over the years as any joy in your life crumbled and closed in until you became a drunk like her. That might have been my own personal joy to watch, my perversion. But those things did not happen. I have permitted you to be alive. I have allowed you to travel with me here, now, because I believed there might have still been a use for you. So, tell me, Reon — is there still a use for you? Do you have a place amongst us? One that you understand and respect? Or am I going to be subjected to you questioning things you can’t comprehend? Answer me!”
Though her eyes did not waver from Lord Harskill’s face, Reon could hear the silence surrounding her. Every one of them, all of the army, even the dumb animals, stared at this display. If she could have become a pebble in the ground beneath her, she would have felt too big, too noticeable.
She thought she nodded, but it could have been her body shaking. Either way, Lord Harskill turned his back on her to speak casually with his fellow Gate. Though some eyes remained on Reon, most of the army began mulling about, waiting for the coming battle.
Reon got to her feet. Her heart rippled in the emptiness of her chest. She turned with her head hung low and walked away toward the trees.
Chapter 21
Malja
Whomp! Another orange burst of energy shot up into the sky. Pebbles on the ground trembled, and dust plumed into the air around the marble platform.
Malja had been leaning against the side of the platform while conversing with Fawbry and Owl. She startled forward and then held her balance as if expecting the ground to quake.
“Are you sure Tommy can handle all this?” Owl asked, gazing up at the Library.
“Oh, he can,” a portly monk said as he walked over. Using his sleeve to dab at his forehead, the monk exhaled long and slow. “I’ve never seen anything like that man. The rest of us have been taking shifts to keep up. He doesn’t tire. He’s been at it for more than half-a-day and yet he doesn’t stop.”
“Brother Ica, this is Malja and Fawbry.” To Malja, Owl added, “Brother Ica was one of Chief Master Kee’s students shortly before Chief Master’s death.”
Brother Ica’s face tightened at the memory. “He taught me a lot in the short time I knew him. Enough to let me appreciate the great power your friend has. He’s holding that Library together mostly by himself. We monks are simply aiding him. We’re doing all we can to feed him our energy.”
Fawbry said, “Does that mean the Library’s getting worse?”
“I think so. I don’t know how much longer we can all hold it together.”
Malja glanced at Tommy. “Especially because he can’t do that forever.”
As if admitting to failure, Brother Ica looked at his feet. “It’s as if the Library consumes all this turmoil around it, and it’s getting angry.”
Owl stepped into Malja’s view. “All the more reason to follow my plan.”
Brother Ica clapped his hands. “Marvelous! You have a plan. I’m anxious to know.”
Owl looked at Malja for a moment. When she nodded, he continued. “First thing, Brother Ica, would it be possible for you monks and Tommy to create a wall —”
“A wall?”
“Well, a magical field of sorts. Could you create one around the Library?”
“Yes. The very field that we’re using to hold the Library together could be expanded to just outside the Library. I wouldn’t want to go further than that. Even with Tommy’s great power, it would be quite a strain. But it is possible.”
“Then we do that. We’ll bring in our army to guard the choke point right where the bridge meets the land, and we utilize the one advantage we have over our enemy — our guns. Just let them try to cross our bridge. If they attempt to cross in some other way, we have the terrain, we have the guns. There would be no point. A couple dead on their side will break any hold the enemy has over the locals.”
Malja gave nothing away in her face. As she thought over the plan, she said, “Not bad. But Harskill can get guns — amazing guns. So, we need something more.” She paced back and forth for only a few seconds.
Once again, she looked up at Tommy. Sweat stained his clothing and soaked his brow. How much longer could he hold out? It wasn’t fair to throw this burden on him, anyway. She had to lift that burden and finish Harskill for good. Because, ultimately, Fawbry was right. She couldn’t go traipsing over the many worlds, fighting Harskill over and over with her body aging faster and faster — especially when doing so continually put her friends in danger. Or like Chief Master Kee — killed them outright.
With her decision made, she turned to the others. “We’ll do as Owl said. Fawbry, you will be the General of the monk army.”
“Great,” Fawbry said, scowling. “I’m a General again. Lucky me.”
“Harskill won’t wait the full time. He’ll come for his answer while you’re still organizing and preparing for battle tomorrow.”
“Okay. You know I can handle it. In fact, I remember seeing a few things back at the Order that might be of big help for us.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. I don’t plan on there ever being a battle today or tomorrow or ever.”
Owl lifted his head. “Oh?”
“I’m adding to your plan. You and I are going to sneak over there tonight and assassinate Harskill.”
Fawbry raised his hand. “I’ll happily stick with General.”
Chapter 22
Reon
Storming in amongst the trees, raging against her humiliation, Reon snatched a long branch from the forest floor and shattered it against the nearest tree trunk. Splinters of wood spiraled off. She grabbed another branch and batted it against a tree. Over and over until only a stub remained in her hand.
Why had she questioned Lord Harskill? Why had she thought she could even be his equal? He was a god, and she was nothing more than a clone.
She threw the stub away and opted to punch the tree trunk directly. She struck over and again until her knuckles bled. Her do-kha attempted to cover her hand, but her fiery anger kept it at bay.
Breathing hard, bleeding, Reon slumped to the ground. She stared at her bruised hand. I’m just a clone.
The thought hit her as fact without pity. Her hand could be replaced. Her arm could be replaced. All of her. She was a machine of interchangeable parts that could be regrown anew whenever Lord Harskill wanted.
But then why would he treat her as something special? Why go through all the effort to grow her into a loyal, thinking being, if all he really wanted was a machine? And why, above all else, would a god say such harsh things to his most loyal supporter? Maybe she didn’t have the right to ask. After all, even her mother’s god, Dulmul, did not allow such questions — and his book was filled with so many contradictions, all Reon ever could do was ask questions.
This was different. Dulmul had no proof of his existence. For all Reon knew, the priests created Dulmul from their fever dreams. They probably wrote in the refusal of questions to protect their fraud from being discovered.
Reon’s skin prickled. Is that what Lord Harskill had done? Shut down her questions to protect his authority from the idea that he might not be a god?
The thought turned her stomach. She wanted to bow down before him and beg forgiveness for even having such thoughts. Part of her, however, wondered what good it would do. Because Reon had seen Lord Harskill’s fac
e. She knew how furious he had been with her.
Her heart suddenly lifted. Of course, he would be furious with her — she had pestered him with doubt and questions while he attempted to enact a complex plan in order to bring peace to all the universes. It wasn’t her questions themselves that had angered her god. Rather, her timing.
I’m such a fool. She needed to recompose herself before heading back. She could then show Lord Harskill just how loyal she could be. Later, when she was queen, she could discuss all the details.
But what of Malja?
A thin, quiet voice spoke out from behind. “Aw, is the little clone upset that she got reprimanded?”
Reon lifted her head as Sola stepped into view. Sola. Reon had not figured her out yet. The woman was fairly quiet and followed her brother’s lead in most things.
“I’m fine,” Reon said. “I’m just not quite sure why I’m here.”
Sola twirled a finger in her hair as she squatted in front of Reon. “Feeling a little lost?”
“Humbled. I was wrong to question Lord Harskill. I just don’t see why we have to play around with Malja when our goal is right in front of us. How are we going to bring peace any quicker to the universes by spending another night waiting for that woman to decide she still doesn’t want to be part of us?”
“Peace? I don’t want peace.”
“You don’t?”
Sola stuck out her tongue like a child and giggled. “Not at all. I want a whole world of my own to play with as I see fit. Little people to pick to pieces. Animals to pull out the wings. All for me. And they will worship at my feet.”
“Lord Harskill wouldn’t allow you to do that.”
“He doesn’t get a say in what I do. I don’t answer to him.”
“But he’s the Lord. He’s the king of all Gate.”
Sola rolled onto her back and threw two fistfuls of leaves into the air. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air. “The world Freen and I live on is so polluted. All those volcanoes spewing out into the air. And all the fires we set. It’s hard to breathe. I think, when I take over my new world, I’ll stay away from the fires this time.” She dropped more leaves over her face. “What about you? What are you going to do with your world?”