Karilyne- Heart Cold as Ice

by Van Allen Plexico

  “Do not concern yourself,” I said, shooting his words back at him. My sword was yet sheathed but my fingers twitched in the direction of its hilt.

  His eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to me. “You know why I am here,” he said.

  “You work for Cevelar,” I guessed.

  His expression morphed into a scowl, as violet lightning danced over his shoulders and neck. “Cevelar works for me!” he boomed.

  “Ah,” I said. “And is Cevelar aware of that?”

  Still scowling, he took another step forward. “Surely you saw my message on your way here,” he said.

  “I saw your little display—your eyes in the sky, as it were,” I told him with a chuckle. “I found it rather dull. So we simply ignored it.”

  “A mistake you will soon regret,” he said, and took another step forward. His eyes appeared bloodshot and seemed too wide, too wild.

  I noticed then that the slice in space through which they had passed was still there, though it had shrunk down to just a tiny circle of light, about two inches in diameter. It floated in the air, about a meter above the surface, a short distance behind the other two who had accompanied Kambangan. None of them carried the Knife, which had certainly been what had cut the portal open. So that little hole must have represented their escape path. Cevelar would likely be opening it out again once they had acquired whatever they’d been sent here to retrieve.

  And I could guess what that was. Likely the same thing we were searching for.

  “You perhaps are acquainted with Tharandar and Myhadra,” Kambangan said, gesturing to those who accompanied him.

  A tiny fraction of their normal Aspects flickered about them both as they each offered me a slight bow of the head. Their reduced stature reminded me of what I must look like as well, given the restricted flow of the Fountain. Depressing it was to be so much less than our usual godly majesties. Involuntarily I shivered. Then, putting such thoughts aside, I regarded them carefully. They eyed me in return but paid no attention whatsoever to Tamerlane, Davos, Binari or Mirana.

  “I congratulate you on being freed from stasis on your ship,” I told them, “and from imprisonment by the mortals who rescued you.”

  They all sneered at my obvious attempt at a dig.

  “Although I heard your fate was worse even than that, Kambangan,” I said, feigning concern. “Word is that you blundered into a dimensional maelstrom. I feared you’d become lost to us forever.”

  For a moment a wild look crept over Kambangan’s features, his bloodshot eyes darting about, as though the mere memory of that event would be enough to send him over the edge of sanity. That was when I understood what had seemed so off about him. His time in the maelstrom had damaged him somehow. Damaged his mind. He must have spun helplessly for months or years through that nightmare realm, with no up, no down, no point of reference at all. Every second must have seemed like a millennium, and every second a lifetime of torture and nightmare. It was a wonder he could function at all now. I almost felt bad about taunting him. But I had to know what he was up to, and his buttons were always notoriously easy to push.

  His wild expression settled back down then, which surprised me, and he surprised me further by simply ignoring my words and taking a step forward. I held up my hand to give him pause.

  “We are here to meet with the master of this place, at his invitation,” I said. “Perhaps you should go now, and return when he has granted you leave to do so.”

  Kambangan’s scowl only deepened. “I do not require the permission of the god of evil—or the Lady of the Snows—to come here,” he said. “Nor do I seek it.” He moved his right hand, opening his brown cloak and uncovering his left arm. In that hand he held a heavy-looking object of bronze-colored metal. Jewels of every color sparkled on its surface. It was clearly a weapon—a Cosmic Weapon?—and it appeared quite formidable. As he lifted it I could tell its shape and form: Yes. It was a hammer.

  The Hammer of Voloron.

  This was one of the Six. Cevelar had not lied when he’d told us he had found it.

  “I see,” I told him. “So you take not only your orders from Cevelar but also your weapons. Tell me: Does he pay well? Or has he promised you some nonexistent dukedom once he rules over the remains of a galaxy Vorthan has destroyed?”

  Yes, Kambangan had surprised me heretofore with his restraint. But his time spent in the maelstrom had left him too wild, too crazed to long endure such talk. Myhadra was just reaching toward him, probably to try to calm him, when all at once, as the mortals say, he lost it. Screaming in wordless fury, he raised the Hammer high over his head and rushed at me.

  I drew my sword and blocked his blow as best I could.

  The two weapons rang loudly as they clashed, blue sparks flying. I took the worst of it, as my sword—for all its craftsmanship and worthiness—is simply a sword, not one of the Six. I stumbled backwards and caught myself before I splayed on the ground.

  In that instant, the battle all around us erupted.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Binari firing his electrical blasts, Mirana unsheathing her own sword, and Davos charging, looking to tackle someone. Meanwhile a whoosh of flame signaled that Tamerlane had entered the fray as well.

  Back on my feet, I surveyed the damage that had been done in the two seconds I had been out of action. Myhadra, stunned, was retreating in the face of Tamerlane’s fire. Tharandar had been knocked off his feet by the combination of fists and electricity.

  Kambangan had just turned away from me, at my moment of greatest vulnerability, and instantly I saw why: My apprentice had attacked him. He was doing his best to fend off her flashing, slashing, transparent blade with the Hammer.

  How could my companions possibly be doing so well against three gods? Because the Fountain in the Golden City was barely flowing, of course. Because so very little of the Power was radiating out from it. And because, here in Lucian’s private little universe, even less of it was getting through.

  The four of us who were gods were, in this place and time, reduced almost to toys whose batteries were nearly depleted. And my companions meanwhile drew their strength from other sources.

  Even so, our three adversaries were still gods. The toy analogy is a poor one, I admit, because even at low ebb, they were formidable beings. They quickly rallied and, using their personal abilities of lightning and flame sparingly but effectively—to say nothing of the mighty Hammer of Voloron that Kambangan wielded—they reclaimed the initiative and began to press us back and away from the cave opening.

  I knelt and brushed the ground with my fingertips, causing a thin layer of ice to form beneath their feet. Before I could move to capitalize on my old trick and knock any of them down, though, Kambangan swung the Hammer down hard upon the ice, shattering it.

  “We possess nearly all the Cosmic Weapons now,” Kambangan called to me. “If you have the Sword, simply hand it over. We will look upon you with favor in the new world that is to come. Continue to resist, however, and you will taste the bitter embrace of entropy and chaos that Vorthan will usher in.”

  At that, the other two gods frowned and exchanged confused glances. I took note of this.

  “So you admit that your goal is to return the deathgod to existence,” I called back to him, as we all regrouped and prepared for another violent clash. Thus far it appeared none of my companions had been seriously injured, though of course the three gods we confronted had been scarcely bothered by our efforts, either.

  “Of course we seek his return,” Kambangan snapped back at me. Then, perhaps realizing what had been admitted, and for the benefit of his two allies, he quickly followed that with, “And all the others, too—all those that might be revived or reconstituted. Even your own beloved Baranak. So why not help us, rather than hindering us? Surely this is a worthwhile ambition.”

  “You lie again, Kambangan,” I retorted. “You and your master, Cevelar, care nothing for the revival of the other dead gods. You only plan to
bring back Vorthan, that he might complete his evil work of galactic annihilation.”

  The three of them had succeeded by that point in moving my party out of the way of the cave entrance, and now all that kept them from entering was Kambangan’s desire to refute my words. I looked back at Mirana and signaled for her to stay back—and keep the others back, too. While I still understood little concerning the Hammer of Voloron, I was certain none of them could long survive a clash with one who wielded it. I reiterated my order to be sure she would comply. She offered me an extremely reluctant nod.

  “Cevelar is not my master!” he screamed, his eyes wild again.

  “You choose an interesting portion of my statement to take such issue with,” I pointed out. “Will you not deny your goals—or Vorthan’s?”

  Now he merely glowered at me, his fist clenched tightly around the handle of the Hammer.

  “Cevelar was not alone when he came to my world and abducted me,” I added. “He brought a human with him—a General Vostok. Perhaps that mortal is the one who gives you your orders?”

  Now he practically shook with rage. Language skills seemed beyond him entirely. So it was time to turn my attention to his companions.

  “No,” I said then, still addressing Kambangan, “You are right about one thing. Cevelar is not your true master. Nor is the human. No, your master is the deathgod, and your ambition is nothing short of apocalypse.” I nodded to Myhadra and Tharandar. “And these two are willing accomplices in galactic genocide.”

  “That is not so,” Myhadra interjected. “What you say is a gross distortion of—”

  But Kambangan had reached the breaking point. What was left of his mind must’ve snapped then, for he whirled about, swinging the Hammer in a broad arc, and knocked both of his accomplices sprawling. The sound of the impact was nearly deafening, and they appeared to be seriously hurt. Then he turned to face me—but I was already moving forward. My sword up, I aimed to do as much damage as possible with it before he could hit me with that dreadful weapon he clutched in his left hand. I had reasoned that an insane foe driven even madder might prove less difficult to handle than a sane, calculating one. Now I worried I had miscalculated and only made the challenge I faced harder.

  Kambangan screamed and swung the Hammer once, knocking my sword from my now-numb fingers. He swung a second time and I only narrowly managed to avoid full contact; instead I tumbled head over heels and lay there on the ground, dazed. He stepped forward and raised the Hammer high. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mirana rushing forward, no longer able to obey my order, determined to try to save me. This crushed my spirit just as thoroughly as I knew my enemy was about to crush my body, for he would go after her as soon as I was beaten. I tried to wave her back, tried to get her to move away—and in that moment something unexpected happened.

  Kambangan’s war cry cut off with a gurgle, and the Hammer did not fall on me.

  I looked up and saw two things of note about him as he towered over me, the Hammer still clenched in his fist and held aloft over his head: One, his expression no longer conveyed fury and madness so much as abject surprise. And two, a long, golden blade now protruded from his chest.

  As he slowly lowered the Hammer he looked down, not at me but at the grievous wound he had suffered. The blade was withdrawn and cosmic energies bubbled forth from the hole that remained. He stood there a second longer and then collapsed.

  Behind him stood Lucian, the dark god, master of this island and this private universe, with the golden Sword of Baranak gripped in his right hand.

  TWENTY

  “I would welcome you all to my secret island refuge,” Lucian said, “except that you are not all welcome to it.”

  “With apologies,” Davos said, “it doesn’t seem like much of a secret refuge, if so many know about it and how to get here.”

  Lucian frowned and started to issue a rebuff, then hesitated and reluctantly nodded. “I cannot argue with that,” he said.

  We all stood in a circle in the clearing outside the cave. Our numbers had grown; two others had accompanied Lucian when he appeared from out of his lair, moments earlier. One of them we all recognized instantly as Solonis—and a younger version of our time-traveling god, this time. What that portended I did not know and scarcely wished to think about. The other new arrival was a tall, slender male Dyonari of indeterminate age who seemed to prefer standing in the background and observing.

  I must note one other thing: Moments after Lucian’s surprise arrival, I noticed the little hole in space—the one that had remained hovering there after Kambangan and his accomplices had come through—had closed and vanished. I suspected Cevelar had seen what had happened and had sealed it back up, deciding to cut his losses and to deny us an express route to wherever he was at that moment. It made me feel good to know we had dealt his ambitions a blow, even if it had been Lucian who had been primarily responsible.

  Kambangan was now in some sort of coma, brought on by being stabbed with the Sword. His two friends, shocked beyond words by these developments, had settled down and now sat off to one side, sullen but at least somewhat cooperative. They cast occasional sharp looks at us, and at Lucian in particular.

  Very quickly it became clear that Solonis had retrieved Lucian and the male Dyonari from wherever and whenever they had been, but he had not shared much information with them before bringing them here.

  “Vorthan?” Lucian asked, incredulous, after I took a stab at laying out the basics of our situation. “Cevelar wishes to bring him back?”

  “Yes,” Solonis said. “And stopping him has proven to be extremely complicated and difficult.”

  I snorted at him. “If your physical age at present is anything to go by,” I said, “you don’t know the half of it.”

  He looked at me, puzzled. “What”

  I snorted. “A much older version of yourself has helped us, too.”

  Solonis frowned at this but didn't appear terribly surprised by it. I supposed a time traveler had to take such things in stride.

  I turned back to Lucian. I had never much liked him, but had to admit he wasn’t the devil I’d once suspected, and he had in fact proven useful in the past. “All of us here have been working very hard to see that Vorthan remains deceased, and only a distant, unpleasant memory,” I said. “Your cooperation would be appreciated.”

  Lucian appeared to consider this. “What are we so afraid of?” he asked after a moment. “He’s just one god. All the damage he and Alaria did before, so long ago…” He waved a hand about vaguely. “All the things I was blamed for, of course… Murdering so many gods, or rather stealing their souls… Vorthan was only able to accomplish those things because he was able to shut down the Fountain, and because he caught each of his victims by surprise. If he indeed returns, and this time we know what is doing, what he’s up to…” He shrugged. “Just the two of us together, Karilyne—we alone could kick his ass.”

  I considered this, and turned to Solonis for his reaction.

  “You do not understand,” the time-traveling god replied quickly. “A revived Vorthan—revived in the way they plan— would be very different from that which he once was. Imbued with the might of the six Cosmic Weapons—the Objects of Power—Vorthan would become invincible. None could stand against him. Not even those of us who remain.”

  “Baranak could,” I said.

  Lucian blinked. “What?”

  Solonis was looking at me, frowning now. “Baranak? But he…”

  “...is dead. Yes, I am well aware,” I replied. “No one is more aware of that fact on a continuous basis than I am.” Anger washed over me for a moment but I held it in check and forced it down. “But if Vorthan can be brought back, could we not bring Baranak back to oppose him?”

  For a moment no one spoke. They looked at one another, all clearly uncomfortable.

  “My lady,” Mirana began.

  “That would constitute an entirely different situation,” Solonis interrupted quickly, �
��presenting entirely different difficulties.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for starters, there are no gemstones filled with recordings of his soul, his spirit, to use as a template. We are told by our... guests,” and he nodded toward Tharandar and Myhadra, where they sat on the ground under guard, “that Cevelar has acquired Vorthan’s personality-gems.”

  “There is the Sword,” I said, gesturing to the gleaming weapon that Lucian still held.

  Now it was Solonis who blinked. “Well. Yes,” he said at length, “that is true. There is the Sword.” He pursed his lips as he looked it over. “There is a chance that some of Baranak’s personality came to be imbued in that weapon, over time, and might be used in a similar way…”

  “He wielded it for millennia,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” Solonis muttered, clearly intrigued by the idea. When next he spoke, he appeared to be talking to himself as much as to any of us. “Such a thing would not be theoretically impossible, I suppose. Yes.” He gazed off into the distance, his mind clearly working.

  “I do not think we should be considering trying to bring any of them back,” Lucian stated firmly.

  “Nor do I,” Mirana said quietly—and I was surprised she said it aloud, though not surprised she thought it.

  “That is not entirely up to you, god of evil,” I snapped at Lucian, ignoring her.

  “It is for so long as I hold the Sword,” he said.

  This angered me. I glared at him. “He never put up with your scheming, your plots and plans,” I told him. “You know a Baranak reborn would have little patience for you. Of course you wouldn’t want him back.”

  Lucian raised a placating hand. “Peace, lady,” he said to me. “If such a thing could be done and we knew it would truly be Baranak we got back—and if we knew he would desire it to be done—then perhaps. But to try something like that blindly?” He shook his head. “No. I think that would be a mistake.”