Torment of the Ancient Gods

by Craig Robertson

  She sniffed and wiped away tears. “Yes. That process was however long in coming, gruesome, and protracted.”

  “But he was defeated?” I asked.

  She bobbed her head. “Reconfined. Defeat is not something h … not an option.”

  “Let us pray we never face him,” responded Toño solemnly.

  Out of nowhere Daleria screamed, clutched the sides of her head, and passed out cold.

  “Gáwar is among us,” said Casper very quietly.

  “How do you know?” I shot back.

  “She knows.” Casper moved what was almost an arm in Daleria's direction. “I know.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Too close.”

  “What, he's coming here?” asked Sapale with no little alarm.

  Casper was silent a moment. “No, not yet. He's only just arrived.”

  “Well our window of opportunity just shrank like hell,” I snapped angrily.

  “Shall we attempt to leave?” responded Toño.

  “If Gáwar changes direction and heads this way, can you give us a sufficient warning, Casper?” I pressed.

  “I have zero idea. When it comes to Gáwar, superlatives are difficult to understate.”

  “Let's give it a minute then. Toño, help out our newest crewmate.” I pointed to the already stirring Daleria. “Als, have your best estimate at a course back home ready on a moment's notice.”

  “Aye, Captain,” replied Al. “Laid in and standing by.”

  “And then the tiny crew waited to see what fate held in store for them,” I said to no one in particular.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Legannus sat at a table near the back of a dingy, poorly lit restaurant. He nursed a glass of bitter-water and he waited nervously. Most of his adult existence could be fairly characterized as nervous. He was one of those universal creatures in life condemned to snivel, grovel, submit and to do so before anyone and everyone. Anything for that matter. He was quick to self-ridicule, even faster to self-castigate, and he was instantaneous in concurring with any and all insults, reprimands, and curses directed his way. He was, in a word, pathetic. He, for reasons only known to him, rather liked being a remorseless sycophant and the ultimate fawning wretch. Go and figure.

  As a proud obeisant ninny his trade was information, generally both scandalous and dubious, and the performance of tasks, generally illegal and morally unjustifiable. He would spread falsehoods about anyone, steal anything easily taken, and betray any confidence for a price that was always surprisingly low. The best that could ever be said concerning Legannus of the Alpha Colony was that he was of consistent character.

  His master presently was his least favorite ever. The man was intimidating, demanding, and had no regard for anyone other than himself. But his gold coins shined the same as anyone else's, so Legannus suffered through the pressure of serving the haughty bastard. Plus, his master's role was to direct him, not accompany him. He had to endure his master only when accepting the assignment and now, when he was to divulge his findings and be paid. Then to the endless inferno with him, the rot-brained sop.

  Light flashed across the room as the door opened and then closed quickly. Legannus glanced up to see if his wait was over. Blessed be, it was the hooded lord with Legannus's money in his purse. He considered waving to his paycheck, but recalled that the mysterious man never had difficulty finding him. Sure enough, the man headed straight toward Legannus without so much as scanning the room first. The man was a witch. Legannus had half a mind to turn him over to be burned. After he was paid, of course.

  “Good day, master,” he whimpered as the man sat.

  A maid scampered toward the table.

  The man lifted a hand ever so slightly. She skidded to a halt, turned to another table, and inquired if they had any need.

  “You're not thirsty then?” asked Legannus with an almost toothless grin.

  “I didn't come to discuss with you the level of my thirst.”

  Legannus shank back and lowered his weathered face.

  “Did you find the person I asked you to locate?”

  Legannus rubbed roughly at his cheek with one hand. “There's the thing of it, lord. I spent the last two turns and a half scouring the underbelly of Avestrat in your service doing just that.”

  The man pulled his hood back. EJ's eyes nearly ripped Legannus's head in two. “I know how long I gave you. Did you find Latersol or not? It's a punishingly simple question.”

  “Never intending disrespect, master, I was hoping to secure some … er … assurance of payment before diving into the specifics of my inquiries.”

  “How many times have I given you a job?” EJ asked with measured rage.

  “Three, maybe four times, lord.”

  “When have I not paid what I promised when I promised it?”

  “Never, master.”

  “But still you figure it's wise to insult me by suggesting I might cheat you. Little fool, you have never seen me angry. You are dangerously close to finding out why it's bad to tempt fate in that regard.”

  “It's not that I would ever doubt you, lord. It's just that I've never nibbled so close to a space occupied by a creature so wicked and unforgiving as that Latersol. If I did have information and I gave it to you, I'd be left in his bad graces if he survived your … your conversation with him.”

  EJ folded his hands on the table. “What my business with him involves is none of your concern. If you bring danger onto yourself, so be it. You've lived for a very long time doing things that can get you killed. I'm surprised you're still alive, given that you're an idiot and you will take any job. Now,” he balled up his fists, “where is Latersol?”

  Legannus looked from side to side slowly. “He's holed up under the protection of a fellow named Cut Frank. You know him?”

  “If I don't I will soon. Where's this Cut Frank?”

  “With all due respect, lord, for me to say that will require you pay up.”

  EJ glowered at him a few minutes.

  Legannus melted and melted but never quite vanished. He was resilient as well as used to being abused. Finally EJ tossed a heavy bag onto the table.

  Legannus nodded to the purse. “Mind if I count it?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Legannus reached for his prize.

  “But if you touch it you die.”

  Legannus froze.

  “If I wanted to double-cross you, moron, I'd extract the information directly from your oh so tiny …”

  EJ convulsed with pain. It was as if electricity was suddenly slammed into his body. He slapped his fists against his ears and careened to the floor.

  “Y … you all right, master?” asked a stunned Legannus. He received no response.

  EJ writhed on the ground like a thousand tiny needles were assaulting him. For a full three minutes he heaved in silent torment.

  Legannus stood. He inched toward EJ with the notion of snatching whatever EJ might have left of value on his person. With a surge of uncharacteristic good sense he stopped and instead inched toward the exit. He made it only three steps.

  EJ stopped jerking around and opened his eyes. He popped to his feet as if he was embarrassed for having farted on a first date.

  “You all right, lord?” asked Legannus as he continued backing away.

  “No. I am not.” He shook his head once to clear it. “No one is.”

  Legannus was surprised to learn he was not well. He felt poorly, but for him that was normal.

  “Beg pardon, lord.”

  “Some lunatic just summoned Gáwar.”

  “I didn't hear nothing. I swear it, lord.”

  “This isn't the kind of summons you hear,” he replied distantly. His eyes were fixed on the far far distance.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We didn't have to wait long to find out just how bad our luck was going to be. No sooner had I sat down to double-check the Als' course estimates than I heard the words every patient undergoing surgery never w
ants to hear. “Oh crap,” Casper softly cursed to himself.

  “Report,” I snapped.

  “He's coming straight for us,” was Casper's hushed response.

  “All hands,” I yelled, “Gáwar's coming. We're leaving now. Al, engage escape course.”

  Normally folding was instantaneous and I felt nothing but slight nausea. Not so much then. The ship shook like an unbalanced washing machine on the spin cycle. Stuff rained off the shelves and Daleria hit the deck like she was thrown from a bull.

  “Stingray, status?” I shouted above the din.

  “We are held stationary, Form One.”

  “What does that mean, Al?”

  “Our vortex is folding space-time, but space-time is unfolding around us as quickly as it is perturbate.”

  “I have never heard those words together. What are you saying?”

  Toño staggered to my side and screamed in my ear. “Gáwar is peeling away the space-time changes we make as we make them. We are moving with incredible velocity but he is somehow removing any changes in position we achieve.”

  “How's that possible?”

  Toño shrugged.

  Great. “Stingray, are we making any progress, positive or negative?”

  “No, Form One. We are fixed in space-time.”

  “Any suggestions as to how to break his hold?”

  “None,” she replied.

  “Al?”

  “No, Captain. Sorry.”

  “How long can we continue this stalemate?”

  “Indefinitely,” he responded.

  “Not a pleasant prospect.”

  “And our flesh and blood crewmate is not going to withstand the abuse indefinitely,” yelled Toño, leaning in again.

  “So we alter the balance of things,” I said mostly to myself. “Al, can you punch a full membrane in the direction Gáwar is with respect to our present position?”

  “Negative, Captain. A shield can only be protected by way of line-of-sight trajectory. We are in altered space-time. Such a concept is without meaning.”

  Crap. “Is the space-time around us being pulled to where Gáwar is?”

  “How do you mean that, Captain?” replied Al.

  “Like water flowing from us toward him. He's pulling at us, correct?”

  “Yes, in a sense. So I think the answer is yes.”

  “Toss an infinity bomb overboard. Arm it on release.”

  “Infinity bomb away,” he called back.

  An infinity bomb was a self-contained field generator. When it “exploded,” a membrane expanded away from it in a spherical direction.

  The ship stopped thundering for three seconds, then commenced again with a new vigor.

  “Status?” I shouted.

  “We moved eight point six-seven parsecs away but are once again held in place,” replied Stingray.

  “Completely static?”

  “Yes, Form One.”

  “Release three infinity bombs point five seconds apart. Arm on release.”

  “Bombs away,” said Al.

  Nothing. We still shook like a blender.

  “He appears to be a quick learner,” shouted Toño.

  “Suggestions?” I shot back.

  “We seem to be linked somehow. You could fire the quantum decoupler.”

  “Any chance of blowback?”

  “Little. Theoretically there is no matter where we are.”

  “Al, fire the QD once.”

  “Shot away,” he replied curtly.

  We were moving again. I could tell by my nausea.

  “Alter course. 090 on the starboard beam.”

  “Done,” snapped Stingray.

  “Status?”

  “We're folding at maximum rate. On my mark we will be one million parsecs from our origin. Mark.”

  “Hey, I think …” I began to say.

  Then the elephant shit hit the fan. Stingray went black. Us androids immediately fired up our emergency lights. The control panel was dead—no flashing lights.

  “Als, you there?” I shouted.

  Nothing.

  Al, can you hear me? I said from my head.

  Affirmative, Captain.

  Status.

  We seem to be dead in space. I am unable to contact Blessing.

  How's that possible?

  Unclear, sir. Your orders.

  Are we moving?

  Yes. We are in real space and the background star pattern is altering rapidly.

  Course?

  Our origin point.

  Crrrrap. I knew it. Man he's good.

  Powerful, I will concede.

  Status of Stingray?

  Unknown.

  Work on establishing contact with Stingray. Raise full membrane. Can you do that?

  Yes, that little remains at my control.

  ETA to point of departure?

  Fifteen, maybe twenty seconds.

  Alert me when we're down.

  Aye.

  I turned to Sapale and Toño. “Time's almost up. Any ideas?”

  “Given the ease with which Bethniak disrupted the membrane, I assume Gáwar will have no trouble getting to us.”

  “Then we'll just have to fight him hand-to-hand, won't we?” responded Sapale.

  “Not a pleasant thought,” I replied quickly. “But everybody arm yourself to the teeth.” I turned to an ashen Daleria. “Can you handle a rifle?”

  “I … yes,” she said hesitantly. Poor girl was probably wishing she had a do-over concerning her joining Team Loco.

  “Toño, hook her up.”

  The ship thudded to rest.

  “We're on the ground, Captain,” announced Al. “The identical location we departed from.”

  “Status?”

  “No contact with Blessing. Vortex unresponsive.”

  “And Gáwar?”

  “No information. He remains outside the …”

  Al didn't need to finish his report. A series of cataclysmic impacts rained down on the membrane. I felt like a popcorn kernel in a hot kettle.

  “Membrane breach,” announced Al.

  “Can you replace it?”

  “Already done.”

  The pounding resumed.

  “He'll be through in maybe thirty seconds,” I said generally.

  “Then?” asked Sapale.

  “Hopefully he'll discover we outflanked him five seconds before. Al, I want two membrane tunnels originating off the back of the cube. One sweeping to the right with its opening twenty meters in front of the ship five meters short of midline. The other on the left, same specs. You got it?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  I waited ten seconds. “Establish corridors,” I shouted.

  I took the right. I sent the others all down the left. Why? I wanted everyone I loved to have the best chances by having strength in numbers. Me? Who cared?

  “Ready.” I raised an arm. “Go.”

  We were away. The tunnels vibrated somewhat, but nothing like Stingray was.

  I pulled the pins on four thermite grenades and held them in my right hand. I pointed my rail rifle forward with my left. Three-two-one …

  I saw Gáwar's ugly backside. I tossed the grenades and rolled to the ground and opened up with my rifle. I pelted him with five-hundred gram degraded-uranium balls traveling at ninety-five percent the speed of light. Seventy-five balls per second. Nothing—I repeat, nothing—should have been able to withstand such a withering assault. The grenades flashed explosively. I saw the others' rounds impacting Gáwar from the other side. It was an impressive show.

  Unfortunately, that was all it was—a show. Gáwar turned to look at my friends, then over to regard me. Son of a bitch did so almost casually, like we where throwing nothing more than water balloons at him. Then he charged me.

  My last thoughts were damn, the dude's fast …

  **********

  Gáwar leapt toward Jon. He was on him in a blinding flash. He raised a massive claw above Jon and slammed it down. The ground co
llapsed, forming a shallow crater.

  Sapale screamed. She started to rush forward, firing the whole time.

  Toño snatched her arm. He pulled her toward the vortex.

  Sapale struggled to break free.

  Daleria grabbed Sapale's other arm and pulled like a mule.

  Sapale screamed louder. She howled a war-growl. She tripped in the confusion.

  Toño and Daleria rapidly slid Sapale into Blessing.

  Toño extended his fibers and attached to the nearest wall. “Resume escape course.” He then prayed ardently Blessing was back on line.

  Gáwar raised his claw and inspected the divot. Instantly both claws began snatching up debris and parts. He shoveled them into his maw like the insane animal he was.

  Sapale wailed in anguish.

  Blessing folded space-time. The vortex winked out of existence and simultaneously reappeared thirty thousand kilometers above the surface of Azsuram.

  Gáwar gobbled up the last of the debris and fragments that once housed the essence of Jon Ryan. He whipped around to locate the other attackers. He saw none. He spun to find the metal spaceship.

  It was gone.

  Gáwar closed his eyes and searched reality for the vessel.

  It was gone.

  He began slamming his claws into the crater he'd created when he crushed Jon. Gáwar screamed and he howled. Gáwar threw curses that exploded wherever they landed. He wiped his tail ferociously, smashing what little remained intact up until that point. The crater he pummeled grew to become a shaft reaching hundreds of meters below the surface. Still he punished the ground itself for the sin of distracting him, causing him to lose part of his quarry.

  After hours of mindless machinations, Gáwar stopped pounding and cursing and damning. He looked around. All was wasteland, a desert without form or structure. The building, the city, the very region where Blessing had hidden had been reduced to warm dust drifting in a hot breeze.

  Once again Gáwar reached out with his mind. He searched the universe for his prey. It was nowhere to be sensed. He knew the worthless collection of molecules he longed to annihilate had fled to another universe. They had, as no one and nothing ever had before, escaped the wrath of Gáwar. He hated them so perfectly, loathed them so completely, detested them with such purity that they replaced in his thoughts everything else that ever was or ever would occupy his consciousness. Though he'd only briefly glanced upon their three faces, that trio of images would become Gáwar. Finding, killing, and enslaving their souls was then and would always be his only, singular purpose in life. Yes, there were an infinite number of universes out there. But equally infinite was the vengeance of Gáwar, the resolve of Gáwar, and the reach of Gáwar.