by Tim Akers
I was trapped.
Chapter THIRTY-FOUR
FATE ACCOMPLI
Stumbling as my feet hit the ground, I pitched forward into soft earth, taking the impact with my shield and rolling, sword out to one side. I was getting good at not stabbing myself every time I fell down. Leaves slithered under my feet as I skidded down an embankment. Didn’t this used to be stairs?
At the bottom of the hill I slid to a stop and stood up. Reality Control was...different.
There were a lot of trees. In fact, it was pretty much all trees, in all directions, above and below. I was standing on a mat of thick roots. The remnants of the control room were barely evident beneath the underbrush. Office chairs and cracked computer monitors poked out from the grasping roots of the tree-world, like gravestones in an overgrown field. The actuator lay in the center of the room. It yawned open like a broken egg.
A dozen or so tunnels led away, formed out of closely-knit boughs. The whole world shifted and creaked, like a forest in the wind. I swallowed. Hard.
“So...he’s done a little remodeling,” I said. My words disappeared into the shadows. I peered into the darkness, trying to decide which direction to go. Eric’s laughter boomed in the distance. At least that gave me a direction to follow.
A voice crackled in the silence. I jumped clean out of my skin.
“John, are you inside? What the hell are you trying to do?”
I looked around, finally seeing a tiny speaker near the door. I went over and pushed a button.
“Esther, is that you?”
“Rast! I knew it was a mistake trusting you and your friends. Whatever the hell you’re up to, know that I’m going to stop you! Once I get in there, I’m going to tear your skull from your head and—”
“Whoa, whoa, pump the brakes, boss. Whatever Eric’s doing, I’ve got nothing to do with it.” I thought about spilling the beans on Chesa but decided against it. Deal with it later. “I just chased him in here. I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do.”
There was a long silence. I pushed the button again.
“What kind of choice do you have, ma’am?” I asked. “Trust me, or don’t. There’s no one else here to save the day.”
I could feel the sigh through the speaker.
“Fine. What do you see?”
I described the surrounding area, the actuator, the control room, and the dozens of tunnels. When she answered, Esther’s voice was scared.
“He’s opened the actuator? That’s not good. The actuator was designed as a weapon. It’s supposed to manipulate anomalies, guided by a team of elites, to impose their version of reality on the mundane world. Think of it as weaponized daydreaming. But that was...problematic. We never had the coordination or control we needed. The results were catastrophic. Mostly for the team.”
“You were on that team,” I said, realizing how she must have lost her domain, and apparently her soul. She ignored me.
“The program got dropped, the whole operation mothballed. We went back to fighting the old-fashioned way, with swords and clever dialogue, but the larger fight ended before we could resolve anything.”
“Which war was this? Because I’m pretty sure I would have learned something about all this in school.”
“The German one. By your count, the Second World War. Fifth on the unreal side of the border. Sometime later we acquired the actuator through mostly legal means and started the Knight Watch. But we couldn’t use it the old way. So we rigged it for passive running, and set it up to detect anomalies, rather than create them. But I assume it still has that capability. And that seems to be what your friend is into.”
“Yeah, that would be consistent with his diabolical monologue,” I said.
“Nature of villains. Can’t help blathering on about their villainy. Is he some kind of artist or something? Lotta artists go this path.”
“Writer. He has ten thousand pages of unfinished fantasy novels on his LiveJournal.”
“Gods save us,” Esther said. “Listen, none of that matters right now. You’ve got to find him and stop whatever he’s trying to do.”
“And how do I do that?”
“Improvise. I can give you a little guidance. Grab one of the isolation helmets near the actuator. If they’re still working, we should at least be able to talk.”
I looked around. Sure enough, the row of brass helmets lay haphazardly at the base of the broken anomaly actuator. I pulled one off and fitted it to my head. Kind of like a helm, except it smelled like motor oil and rubber.
“Did that work?” I said as loudly as I could.
“No need to yell,” Esther answered. Her voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a mile-long pipe, but at least I could hear her. “Okay. First order of business is to find your friend. Be careful. If this is his domain, he’ll have some control of the environment.”
“Like he has his finger on the thermostat? Or more like he can conjure nightmares?”
“More like the conjuring nightmares part.”
“Well, that’s only going to be a problem when he figures out I’m here, and orders the trees to crush me,” I said. “Until then, we’re golden.”
A quick tattoo of gunfire and muzzle flashes sounded from one of the passages, high up and to my right, followed by Eric’s laughter. I started climbing toward it before the sound stopped.
“He’s really got the maniacal laughter down,” I mused. “Must have been practicing that for a while. Darkness really changes a guy, lemme tell you.”
“You have to stop thinking of him as your friend. When the time comes, he’s just another monster,” Esther said. I heard a chorus of voices in the background. “Bethany has some suggestions about how to kill him, if you need it. They’re...specific.”
“No, it’s fine. I know how a sword works,” I said. “Eric and I have dueled a hundred times. No match.”
That brought me up short. Eric was different, but it was still Eric. He was still my childhood friend, just crazy, and growing a tree from his hand. And I was probably going to have to kill him. I was musing on that when Esther’s voice cut into my head.
“Just be careful, Rast. He’s not the same guy, no matter what you think. There will be changes.”
“Oh, there’s plenty that’s changed about old Eric,” I said. This place was getting to me quick. Probably not smart to talk out loud, but I couldn’t stand the silence. “Used to be he was happy to push words around on a page and drink too much beer on the weekends. I tell you, I don’t think even his own mother would recognize him. It’s like he’s not the same person at all.”
When we were fighting, it was easy enough. He had been shooting at me, after all. But now that I was approaching the deed very intentionally, the weight of killing a man I had known for most of my life was starting to crush me.
At the top of the makeshift ladder, I found a broad tunnel, much like the others. Light came from bell-capped mushrooms growing out of the floor. The passage twisted away, disappearing around a curve twenty feet away from the mouth.
Checking the fit on my shield, I started creeping down the tunnel. It twisted and turned for a hundred feet or so. Passages broke off every dozen yards, but they were narrow crevices, barely more than gaps in the pressing foliage. I stayed on the main path. The sound of gunshots urged me forward.
“Who’s he shooting at?” I whispered to myself.
“Domains are not formed whole from the occupant’s mind,” Esther said. “Though they are always a reflection of their creator. Eric may be trying to contain the native inhabitants of this place.” A long rattle of gunfire interrupted Esther’s lecture. I could see the muzzle flashes reflecting off the walls. I was getting close.
“Or maybe he’s just out of his damned mind,” I said.
“Also possible,” Esther answered quietly.
I crept forward, checking each corner before I rounded them, being as stealthy as I could in full plate. Which was pretty stealthy, considering the de
afening gunfire and maniacal laughter up ahead. It’s easy to sneak up on someone who’s punctuating each breath with twenty rounds from an MP5.
“Rast?” Esther’s voice cut into the thunder. She sounded even more distant than before. I had to strain to hear her. “We have a situation. I don’t understand what’s going on but you need to hurry it up. He’s almost done.”
“Done with what?” I asked.
“Hard to tell from this end,” she said. “A ritual of some...” static “interference. You’ll have to...” howling whispers and the chanting of a mad choir “Something big.”
“Bigger than a world made of trees?” I asked. There was no answer. The line was dead. “Perfect. I was hoping to face this completely on my own.” I tore the bell helmet off my head and tossed it aside as I started to run. I came around the corner at a dead sprint.
What I saw was hard to believe at first, even after everything I had seen. But as we approached, I heard something that started the gears moving in my head.
“Why are you doing this?” Eric pleaded. Then Eric answered. “Because you were weak. I am done with weakness.”
“What the hell,” I whispered as I rushed forward.
Around the corner was a large, domed room. Tree roots as thick as houses surrounded the perimeter, arching up to the ceiling high above. The floor was the stump of an enormous tree, millions of tiny rings telling of an age older than the universe itself. Vine-twisted braziers dotted the room, burning with cold fire, dead and blue. At the center of the room was an altar. Eric stood over the altar with a dagger in his hand.
Eric also lay on the altar, arms and legs bound. He squirmed against his bonds.
“Hey!” I shouted without thinking. Both Erics looked up. “Don’t touch yourself!”
“Johnny! What the hell’s going on? You’ve got to help me! This guy’s—”
“Crazy,” the other Eric finished. Then he shifted the dagger to his left hand and held out his empty right hand. A staff curled out of the ground, joining with his flesh. “I’m getting a little tired of beating the shit out of you, John.”
Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
DOUBLE TROUBLE
I swung sword and shield into hand, dropping into a guard position and tightening the enarme straps against my forearm. I flexed my fingers. The steel face of the bulwark blossomed open like a flower in a time-lapse. Eric raised his brows.
“I still think that’s a cheap trick, Sir John,” he said. “Does the sword get bigger, too? Or is that a little too on point?”
“You’re the guy with wood growing out of his pants, weirdo,” I said.
“Fair point. I guess we’ll just have to fight to see whose compensation mechanism is more authentic.”
I was formulating a pretty snappy comeback for this, something really clever, hopefully. But I never got around to it, because I was suddenly beset by a pair of giant fists that rose out of the ground and tried to smash me into pulp. I rolled the lower panels of my shield out and anchored it, bracing it with my shoulder. It took all my force to hold my ground as blow after blow rained down on my shield. The metal grew hot with friction.
“I can’t keep this up forever!” I shouted. But of course, Esther was gone, and the rest of the team was on the other side of the vault door. Vines crept along the border of the room, slowly encircling me.
“Hey, John?” That sounded like Normal Eric. Or at least, it didn’t sound like crazy magic-slinging Eric. “John, this is all really weird and stuff, but I think you’re having a bad time of it.”
“Observant,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Okay, yeah. Just checking. Do you think you’re going to be able to save me or something?”
“Forecast unclear. Ask again later,” I answered.
“Cool. Because I think this guy is trying to kill you.”
“Sounds right,” I said. One of the massive fists came down on the edge of my shield, twisting it in my grip and wrenching it out of the ground. I stumbled back, steadying myself with my sword. Waves of vines flowed in from the flanks, grabbing at my ankles. I ripped my feet free, stomping as vines tangled in my greaves, trying to pull me down. I retreated from the twin fists. They followed me, pulling free from the ground and dragging themselves forward.
“Faster! Faster!” Dark Eric yelled. “Crush him!”
One of the crawling hands paused long enough to flip him off, then resumed its laborious journey across the room.
“Looks like this place isn’t as magical as you thought, buddy,” I said. “You might want to do some editing here.”
“Shut up!”
“I don’t think he’s your buddy, John,” Other Eric said. “Unless I’m completely misreading this situation.”
“You’re not,” I said. “I’m kind of being an asshole. He tried to kill a friend of mine.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” Other Eric said.
“Everyone shut up!” Dark Eric yelled. “I need to concentrate! Art is hard!”
“Oh, Gods, you’re so damned precious.” The vines at my feet had gone limp while Eric focused on his impertinent fists. I gathered several strands up, twisting them around the hilt until they were tight, then yanked them free. The trailing vines tangled around the approaching fist. The motion of dragging itself forward quickly tangled the hand, binding finger to finger and thumb to palm. It tumbled to the ground.
Dark Eric threw his head back and laughed.
“Very good! It’s always dull when visitors don’t bring games to play.” He drove the dagger into the altar next to Other Eric’s shoulder, then fished around in his robes. “I have my own, as well!”
He drew the stubby machine pistol and pointed it at me. I had to laugh.
“We’ve already done this dance, Eric. That shit doesn’t work on me.”
“Maybe not in the real world. But we’re not in the real world, are we, John?”
Bullets tore through the air, the muzzle flash turning the dim interior of the tree into brilliant light. Hot fire cut across my shoulder as a bullet punctured my armor and grazed my skin. I was so shocked I nearly dropped my sword.
“Magic bullets, John! Like that movie!” He waved the gun in my direction and pulled the trigger. I ducked behind my shield, angling the face of the bulwark and bracing myself. Lead hit steel, ricocheting inches from my head. Long scars dug their way across my shield, exposing bright steel under the paint. I had my own magic, but somehow a shield didn’t feel as cool as a bullet. But I had to work with what I had.
“I think I’ve had enough of this bullshit,” I said. “You need an editor, Eric. Someone needs to cut you down to size.”
I ran forward, dancing past the entangled hand. The other fist rose up and slapped at me, but I was able to roll past the impact and keep going. Eric’s eyes got big as I barreled toward him. He lifted the machine pistol and let loose. A hail of bullets spattered across the face of my shield, but I had opened the supplemental panels. I was deep into my mythic self. The shots whizzed clear. I didn’t slow at all.
I hammered into Eric shield first. The force of the impact bowled him over. He yelped as his roots tore free of the ground, dripping blood. I slashed at him as he rolled away. The steel of my blade bit into his staff, severing the gnarled tendrils of the haft. It stuck, and I had to throw my shield over my shoulder and grab the hilt with both hands to keep the sword from twisting out of my grip as he rolled away. The shield tightened against my back, prehensile straps hugging my shoulder and chest as it settled into place. Eric and I struggled for a second, then I kicked him in the chest. He fell back. I struck.
Quick slice, blocked by the barrel of his magical gun, then counterstrike and I put the forte of my blade into his shoulder. I drew it out, slicing as I pulled. Flesh parted, and the sword’s edge rattled against his collarbone.
The Eric on the altar gave out a squeal of pain, thrashing against his bonds. Blood sprang up on the cheap fabric of his bard’s outfit, turning the faux-silk bright crimson. Wh
ile I was distracted, Dark Eric scrambled to his feet.
He was uninjured. The dirty sleeve of his robe was sliced open, but the flesh beneath was unharmed. There was blood on my sword, but not on his skin. I stared at him in horror. The way my sword had battered his skin was familiar. It was the same as the quintains in Clarence’s yard.
“You’re nothing but wood,” I said, and Eric started laughing. He pistol whipped me, knocking me back on my heels. I brought my shield back, shrugging my shoulder to let it slip down the length of my arm into a single-hand grip. I barely got the shield up in time before he dropped a hail of lead on me. The magic of the warden held up, though. The shield stood up to the punishment, even if the impact was enough to rattle my teeth.
“That’s not how this is supposed to work,” I said. “Guns against swords! How am I supposed to win that kind of fight?”
“Hey, John?” Other Eric whimpered. “Can you not do that again? The stabbing? Because that hurts like hell.”
“Sorry, man. Not sure what’s going on here.”
“Isn’t it clear?” Dark Eric hissed. “Kill your friend, if you want. But you can’t hurt me.”
“Yeah, I figured that part out,” I said. “But I have a question for you. What happens if I cut Eric free? Where does your blood go then?”
Dark Eric paused.
“Did you seriously not think of that?” I asked.
“Of course, I did. I just...I’m...”
“You’re stalling,” I said, then ran straight at Eric, good Eric, the Eric that was tied to the altar. When I reached him, I put my sword against his bonds and smiled. “Don’t worry, man. It’s going to be okay.”
“I can’t allow that!” Dark Eric said. He raised the charred tip of his staff and pointed it in our direction.
The ground around us erupted with thorny growth, surrounding us and then closing in. There were brief seconds before I was having to batter my way free. Eric gave a horrific cry, and then I lost sight of him. I was fully consumed with keeping the twisting, choking vines out of my throat. Lashing creepers caught my wrists, wrapping around my chest and squeezing until it was a struggle to breathe. I slashed with sword and shield, battering back the grasping vines, until there was a tiny space around me. The bramble wall was going to overwhelm me in a few heartbeats. Desperate, I pulled on all the levers on my shield, all at once.
