No sense telling him the truth. He’d simply arrange for us to meet an “accident” while we were flying over the ocean.
“Well… we also experimented with ultra-high-concentration ambrosia,” Eve said. “We imbibed it and tested what we could do with it.”
“You… drank that stuff?”
“Yes,” I said. “I figured that with such a high percentage of aetherium, we could do stuff no one had ever thought of yet.”
“And you didn’t get burned?”
Eve smiled thinly. “If you take very small sips and burn it the instant you drink it, you’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “How did you… You guys are nuts. You know that?”
“Hey, ninetieth MV percentile,” I said. “We can get away with things others can’t.”
“Lucky dog.”
“Thank you.”
He snorted. “Anyway, you two saved our… our skins out there. You should teach the rest of the Program how to run the shield.”
“There are still a lot of things we have to hammer out,” I said. “You saw how I collapsed earlier. The shield takes a lot of energy and ambrosia. I want to see what we can and can’t do with it.”
“Fine. But when you do, I want in.”
“Count on it.”
He looked at her and nodded slightly. “Eve… You did good. Some rough edges, but… Well. It’s an improvement. Keep it up.”
She grinned. “Does that mean I’m part of the Program now?”
“Jury’s out on that one.”
He limped off the airship and boarded the jet. The plane departed fifteen minutes later. Ten more, and we were airborne.
***
In the port hold, Brandt snoozed away. The Rohypnol would keep him out for another hour. Long enough for us to arrange things.
We turned down the lights in the hold, leaving a single spotlight in the exact center. Brandt’s chair was under the light, facing the wall at the far end. When he woke up, all he would see was a blinding white light and a blank wall. Wearing our invisibility cloaks, Eve and I sat behind Brandt and waited.
Two hours after we left Zurich, Brandt finally stirred. He groaned, looking from left to right, right to left.
“Entschuldigung,” he said. “Is anyone there?”
“Hans Brandt,” I said.
He perked up. “Who’s there?”
I tapped Eve’s shoulder. Getting up, I circled around to his left while Eve went to his right.
“Hans Brandt,” I said again.
“Who are you? Where am I?” he demanded in Swiss German.
I stepped into the circle of light. “Hans Brandt.”
He struggled against his bonds. “Why am I here? Where are you?”
Throwing off my cloak, I stepped up into his face.
“Hans Brandt!”
He shrieked, jerking in his chair.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Why were you at the farm?” I demanded. “What were you doing there? Why did you have men with guns?”
“Stop. Stop. Please, I–”
“What is your name?” I yelled.
“It’s—it’s Jan Becker. What are–”
“You LIE!” I roared.
He flinched away. But he was over-selling the act, exaggerating the rictus lines across his face. He was already recovering, thinking of a way out.
“Your name is Hans Brandt,” I said.
“That’s not true. I’m Jan Becker. Who are you? I want–”
I snapped my fingers.
Eve tossed her burqa.
“Remember me?” she asked.
“You… Eva Martel.”
“And that means you’re Hans Brandt,” she replied.
I shook my head theatrically. “You’re a liar, Herr Brandt. We don’t like liars.”
“Who are you?” he asked, turning to me. “What do you want?”
“Hans Brandt,” I said, ignoring him. “Swiss intelligence. Hexenhammer co-founder. Liar. Traitor.”
Eve smiled sweetly, her eyes promising steel. “Wouldn’t you like to know what we do to traitors?”
“I want a lawyer.”
Eve chuckled maliciously. “Oh, look, the traitor wants a lawyer.”
I grabbed his chin and tilted his head up, glaring into his eyes. “Lawyers are for criminals. You are an illegal combatant. And a traitor. What makes you think you deserve a lawyer?”
Eve opened her right hand. A knife flashed into being.
“You’re a traitor,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “You killed my friends. You don’t deserve a lawyer.”
I held her shoulder and leaned over him. “If you don’t talk—if you lie—you’ll get to see what she can do with her blade.”
“This is illegal! You can’t do this to–”
Eve laughed. “‘This is illegal,’ said the traitor.”
I leaned over his face. “Who do you work for? What do you want?”
“I can’t–”
“You sold us out!” Eve yelled. “You brought in death squads and giants! Why?”
“Who are you working with? How much did they pay you? Talk!”
“All right, all right!” he yelled. “I’ll talk!”
“Well?” I said. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
He grinned.
“Eine Welt, eine Recht, eine Volk!”
“And what the hell does that mean?” I demanded.
His eyes rolled up.
“What the–”
Seizures wracked his body. He torqued to one side and then the other. The chair fell over on his right side.
Suicide pill. But that wasn’t possible.
“Hold him down!” I called.
Eve held him steady. I borrowed her knife and cut him loose. Convulsing sharply, he flailed and retched, foam and bile spraying from his lips. I unzipped a medical pouch, removing a syringe of ambrosia. I jabbed the syringe into his thigh and hit the plunger.
Nothing happened. He shuddered and gasped and twitched and shook, curling up into the fetal position. He exhaled sharply and abruptly relaxed.
Eve held her fingers to his nose. “No breathing. Do I resuscitate?”
“Don’t bother,” I said. “He’s gone.”
Iota: The Reckoning
By now, the Callings were so frequent that the giants’ departure no longer caused a stir in Tartaros. Nor their return, for that matter. The Stormbringer didn’t know if he should be pleased or angry.
Once behind its mighty walls, the Stormbringer found his tent in the same place as he had left it. With forty-nine heads and ninety-eight hands, he saw to the security of the prison. The rest of him summoned the giants who had accompanied him to Gaea. As they lounged on elaborate bronze couches, the Stormbringer pronounced his verdict.
“It appears our plan has failed.”
His fellows nodded or grunted glumly. Venomtongue, however, cracked a smile.
“Sir, I would say we have simply found what didn’t work.”
“An optimistic perspective,” Farsight said. “The humans were cleverer than we had expected.”
“Did the humans grant any of you leave to use your powers?” the Stormbringer asked.
Thunderhands tossed his head and clicked his tongue. “No, sir. When you came into your full strength, I was caught by surprise.”
“I tried to use my power,” Farsight said, “but I was locked out.”
The other giants chipped in, repeating variations of the same phrase: they had not been allowed to use their powers, and when they tried, they were punished.
“Sir, who released your controls?” Thunderhands asked.
“The one named Hans Brandt.”
“It makes no sense,” Farsight said. “When the daimons turned on us, Hans Brandt should have unleashed us. We would have wiped the humans from the field.”
Venomtongue cackled. “All the humans.”
“I personally argued with him to release us,” the Stormbringer said. “Ins
isted on it. He kept saying no. Up until the moment the enemy had reached the farmhouse. And even then, he allowed me—and only me—to act. With conditions.”
Thunderhands folded his mighty arms across his chest. “What kind of conditions?”
“His exact words were, ‘I allow you to use your powers to destroy the attackers and only the attackers while leaving me and my allies unharmed.’”
“Crows take him,” Venomtongue cursed.
“Indeed. He did not want to run the risk of us turning against him. Even by ‘accident.’ But… I found a loophole nonetheless.”
The giants brightened.
“What loophole?” Thunderhands asked.
“When the assault team descended the stairs, I grabbed the point man and threw him down. Only later did I realize I had thrown him into Brandt, knocking him out.
“When I threw the attacker, it was entirely subconscious. The only conscious thought I had was what technique to use. I did not think about the consequences of throwing him. But I struck Brandt anyway. Without activating the control protocol.”
Farsight stroked his chin. “Fascinating. Perhaps the control protocol is triggered by thought. If we provide it with nothing to work with, it cannot restrain us.”
“You are saying that we must fight without thinking and in doing so, ‘accidentally’ harm our human controllers?” Venomtongue asked.
“It appears so.”
Venomtongue groaned. “How is it possible to do this?”
“I managed,” the Stormbringer said. “Surely you can, too.”
Thunderhands growled in a deep voice like crunching gravel. “If the humans’ magic can be broken so easily, it would not be a challenge worthy of us, the sons of the earth and sky.”
“Well said!” the Stormbringer agreed.
“Sir, what is our next step?” Farsight asked.
“When my body fell, Hans Brandt was left undefended. It stands to reason that he is out of the game. His organization will rely on his deputy. Pity we don’t know much about him. We will focus our efforts on learning more about this man and picking apart the magic that the enemy uses to bind us in Gaia.”
“Our means of accessing information in the mortal world is limited,” Farsight said.
“True, on the other hand…”
One of his many heads circled the grim tower where Tilphousia was stationed, overseeing the suffering and security of the inmates below. That head saw a spark of dull light descending toward Tartaros. Tilphousia tittered and spoke.
“That’s him.”
The Stormbringer tilted that head. “Thank you, my lady.”
She grinned. “Have fun.”
With the head inside his tent, the Stormbringer said, “Our guest has arrived. Come with me.”
The eight giants marched to the gates of Tartaros. Gatekeeper screeched at the new arrival with all fifty heads, each tongue promising what was to come. The centaurs saluted the fallen soul with volleys of arrows, freezing and burning and poisoning him with every impact. The soul screamed in agony, flailing and thrashing about. He tried to avoid the arrows, but no matter how he turned or twisted in flight, the arrows would track and strike him.
The soul slammed face-first into the bedrock of Tartaros. The arrows melted into him. He no longer had the strength to scream; he simply moaned pitiably as the dissolving missiles ate into his being.
The Stormbringer dispatched four hands, picking him up and dumping him at his feet. The giants fanned out around the Stormbringer, surrounding the human. Knuckles cracked, teeth glittered, serpents hissed, and beasts growled.
The freshly damned soul looked up.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“You know who we are,” the Stormbringer said. “Get up.”
The man blinked. “I–”
“GET UP!”
Eight hands grabbed the human, forcing him to his feet. He was as naked as the day he was born. Arrow wounds riddled his flesh. They were already closing over into fresh scars, but this was only the beginning.
“Where… where am I? What’s happening? Are you… Oh.” His eyes bulged. “Oh, no.”
The Stormbringer grinned.
“Welcome to Tartaros. We’ve been expecting you, Hans Brandt.”
8. The Torn Veil
We had a Plan B. It was grisly. We didn’t have all the right tools. But we made do.
When I was finally done, I dragged myself to my cabin, washed off the grime and gore and fell on my bed.
“Well done.”
I was back in the den of dreams, parked on a couch. Hakem sat across from me, a smile on his face. He had folded his wings away and donned a thobe and a matching shemagh the color of ash. He was feeling informal today.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“I see things have changed around here since the last time I visited.”
In the arsenal, a tomahawk joined the collection of blades. An AK-122 rested on a fresh rack next to the other long guns. There was a new cabinet separate from the other weapons, and inside it was an ATS-90. And there was plenty of space for new additions.
On the left of my sofa, a black orb floated in mid-air. It seemed to suck in all the light that fell into it, leaving perfect darkness. And I had an eerie sense that it was looking back at me.
To my right, an ornately carved pedestal rose from the floor. Flutes ran down the length of its shaft, terminating in elaborate spirals that resembled stylized ocean waves. Atop the pedestal was a large crystal emitting soft golden light.
When I looked back at Hakem, a new chair appeared on his right. Crafted out of glittering stone, it was tall and solid and high backed, boasting sculpted lions for armrests. It was a throne fit for a king. Or god.
“Are we expecting someone?” I asked.
Light flared from the throne, brilliant and warm, soft and comforting, like a well-tended fireplace in winter. The light faded, revealing a tall man in a rich purple toga. His white hair was short and curly, his beard full but neatly trimmed. A solar crown with a dozen spokes rested on his head. And, like Hakem, his eyes were pools of light.
I raised my right hand. “Salve, Sol Invictus.”
The god smiled, and saluted me. “Salve, Luke Landon.”
“Thanks for the help. Couldn’t have survived without you.”
“My pleasure.”
Hakem scowled. “Is it also your pleasure to meddle with the world so casually?”
Sol Invictus retained his benign smile. “I always aid my covenanters when they are in peril. I fear I cannot say the same for yourself.”
“Easy for you to say. Your meddling will be our doom.”
The god raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“The Unmaker’s greatest power is to whisper into the hearts of men and to disguise his words as bursts of inspiration. In this manner he teaches his underlings the secrets of time travel.” He pointed at Sol Invictus. “And you fell into his trap.”
“What trap?” I asked.
“When the Unmaker appeared on this airship, he empowered a marid to take Luke’s head. Sol Invictus, you empowered Eva Martel to travel through time to save his life. In doing so, you betrayed to the Unmaker the secret of creating a Kerr black hole with the power of Creation.
“This morning, when the hekatonkheir deployed its hands, you showed Luke Landon how to employ a gravitoelectromagnetic shield in the presence of the Unmaker. Now, the Unmaker knows how man can employ gravitoelectromagnetism. And you didn’t even erase that knowledge from Luke’s mind when you were done.
“You showed the Unmaker how mortals can create a Kerr black hole. Then, you showed him the sciences that allow mortals to control one. Now, he is flitting across the world, traveling to high-energy research facilities and whispering into the hearts of unscrupulous scientists. Scientists whose research touches on the fabric of space-time itself.”
“You’re saying he revealed himself specifically to bait Sol Invictus into revealing these secrets?” I asked.
&nb
sp; “Yes. He doesn’t normally reveal himself to humans, much less openly taunt you like that. But if he acted the way he did, he would have attracted the attention of a god.” Hakem frowned. “And now, the world will burn.”
Sol Invictus shook his head. “You exaggerate, dear cousin. I am not unaware of the Unmaker’s machinations. But I judged intercession as the least worst outcome.”
“Such knowledge was not meant for humans. Not in this age, not ever. By your actions, you have pushed the world closer to the abyss.”
The god smiled patiently. “Dear cousin, we fight enemies who lurk in the dark corners of the earth. We shouldn’t fight them where they are strongest. We must make them come to us, and to lure them, we need bait they cannot refuse.”
I held up my hand. “Hold on. Are you saying you want me to fight the Unmaker?”
Sol Invictus shook his head. “No, not directly. In the mortal world he relies on his human servants. Now he is teaching them, yes? Soon, they will show themselves again. And when they do, you’ll be able to act. If you can cut off the Unmaker’s hands on Earth, he will be neutralized.”
“You play a dangerous game, Sol Invictus,” Hakem said.
“So do you. But, as I said, I watch over my covenanters.” His eyes narrowed. “Be honest. Would you have stepped in to save Luke’s life at the farmhouse?”
The archangel pursed his lips. “This is war. And in war, sacrifices must be made.”
“Thank you very much,” I said.
“I don’t believe in unnecessary sacrifice,” Sol Invictus said.
“In the Divine Plan, no one man is indispensable.”
The god laughed. “You and your Divine Plan. I can see the time stream as easily as you. If Eva and Luke had died, how much more difficult would it be to foil the Unmaker’s plans?”
“There are always other humans we can count on.”
Sol Invictus shook his head. “Not to me, dear cousin. Not to me.”
Both beings were correct. In the military they teach you to love your troops as your own family, but you must always remain detached so you will never hesitate to send them into the meatgrinder if you must. At the level of grand strategy, there is no room for sentimentality and individuality, only victory. And we were playing for the highest stakes.
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