by CM Raymond
"You don't fight, you don't eat,” she said without a hint of irony on her face.
Karl shrugged. "Not a bad policy, if I might say so myself." He took three strides in silence and then asked, "You're not from here then?"
"No. Grew up two days’ walk north of here in a little village called Urai. My people, though, are friends of New Romanov. We have had an alliance with Olaf’s people since before the Age of Madness. And when we heard that trouble was brewing, I figured that my old friend Olaf here needed someone to help him hold his shit together.” She looked up at Olaf and smiled.
Karl could see something there that was more than camaraderie. Cursing to himself, he wished he could fall into company with at least one group of people who were more interested in destroying the bad guys than snuggling up next to a fire. But he couldn’t blame Olaf. Mika’s ice-blue eyes could melt the Frozen North with one glance.
“Aye, guess he needs some help. Monsters from another world and remnant from every direction… ‘Nuff to keep yer hands full.”
Olaf laughed. “More than enough. It’s good you’re here, you and the others. I only regret that it won’t be for long.”
Karl’s bushy eyebrows raised toward his low hairline. “Oh?”
“Shit,” Mika whispered. “You don’t know yet, do you?”
“Guess this is where I say, ‘Know what?’” He trained his eyes on the wall they were now close to. “Should have figured this stop wouldn’t last long. Let’s go take a look at yer breach before Princess Fireball tells me to get on the damn ship.”
They took in the disrepair of the wall. Karl could see that Olaf was a proper military man. This whole place had been built with defensive considerations in mind. Even with the damage to the wall, a small number of people could hold off a much larger force if need be. Karl looked around, offering some of his own ideas as to how they could increase their ability to protect themselves.
“Scheisse, I’d love to stand against ‘em with ye, though.”
“Which ones?” Olaf’s eyes looked almost like an animal's. “The remnant or the Skrimas?”
Karl laughed. “Both of ‘em.”
Walking the perimeter, he was glad to have even just a day with his feet on the ground and his mind on a fight.
****
“Scheisse, almost out,” Karl said as he pinched at the remaining pipeweed in his pouch. His stubby fingers worked to carefully fill his pipe as his legs dangled from a giant block which had once been part of the wall. With a flick of his tinder, he lit the bowl and drew the smooth smoke into his mouth.
Mika and Olaf stood nearby, surveying more of the wall and its damage. Their commitment to the safety of New Romanov, and more importantly of Lilith, was impressive. He didn’t really know who or what the Oracle was, but it was clear that either was willing to lay down their life for her.
“I can give you some of mine,” Mika said, her steely blue eyes piercing Karl.
Karl laughed, smoke bursting from his nostrils.
“Not interested in our weed, rearick?” she asked with one brow lifted high. “I imagine it is as good as yours from the Heights, or maybe better.”
He held a hand up. “No, no, lass. I wouldn’t be caught dead turning down some free smoke, only back home, none of the pretty girls smoke the stuff.”
A cool smile spread over her lips. “I don’t smoke it. I chew it.”
Karl lost it. Slapping his hand on his knee, he looked at Olaf and said, “Ye’ve got a wild one on yer hands.”
“You’re telling me! She says it helps her kick ass in a fight,” Olaf answered with a smile that melted his hardened exterior. Centuries of fighting for the life of the world had hardened him, but more than once Olaf had watched Mika transform him into a kinder, more innocent man.
“Where the hell’d the two of ye meet, anyway?”
Olaf stepped forward to speak, but Mika beat him to the story. It had all begun in a backwoods bar that sold swill outside her hometown, Urai. She had both men laughing as she spun the tale of a card game gone awry and a cheater caught in the act.
“To this day, I swear that I was not cheating.” Olaf grinned. “I’m just that good. And you,” he turned to Mika, “have always been a poor loser.” He drew a flask from his pocket, took a pull, and handed it to Karl. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Olaf took over. “Let me tell you the real story, Karl. Because we both know that one should never trust a woman who chews the weed.”
Just as Mika began to contest his allegation, a voice shouted from nearby. A slender but strong girl rounded the pile of rocks in a full sprint and dropped at Olaf’s feet.
“Mira? What the hell?”
The girl, face painted with sweat and dust, grimaced. Her breathing was heavy. “Another one.” She panted.
“Calm down, child. Another what?”
“The Rift. Another one has gotten through.”
Olaf’s eyes widened, but then quickly narrowed. “Can’t be, Mira. We had one only yesterday. They never come so quickly.” His face lightened. “Who put you up to this wicked prank?”
Mira shook her head and locks of hair stuck to her sweat-dampened cheeks. “I swear on my mother’s grave, Olaf. It’s here.”
Olaf cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a shout that sounded much like the growl of a bear. “Get to your defenses! A Skrim has breached the Rift.” People in the distance jumped into action. Karl watched as weapons appeared out of nowhere and magicians began readying themselves. Mira was pulling on the hem of Olaf’s cloak, but he didn’t seem to feel it. “For New Romanov!” he shouted.
She continued to pull as she shouted Olaf’s name.
Finally his eyes dropped to the messenger again.
Mira shook her head. “There is no need. It isn’t coming here. The thing headed north!”
“My gods,” Mika whispered. “Urai. My home.”
Olaf dropped to his knees. Tilting his chin toward the sky, he let out a roar, this one more bear than man.
Karl stared as the man’s body convulsed. He knew exactly what was happening, but that didn’t make the changing seem more possible.
Olaf’s entire body shook, shifted, and grew, but it was the hair that sprouted on every inch of his frame almost immediately that was the most confounding. In seconds Olaf was gone and a massive bear with reddish-brown fur stood in his place, roaring again.
This time the cry was all animal.
The beast looked up at Mika, gave her the slightest nod, and turned, running at full speed toward the north.
CHAPTER TEN
“I... I don’t understand.”
Hannah continued to look around the room, ready for Hadley to jump out and tell her it was all a cruel joke. But try as she might, her gaze continued to be drawn toward the black box in front of her.
She knew in her core that the thing was telling the truth.
“I can appreciate your confusion,” Lilith said. “I’m not exactly what the legends describe. But I assure you, I am the one you came here to see.”
Hannah took a hesitant step forward. Then she circled the device, trying to take it all in.
“But what are you?”
“I will be as honest with you as I can, Hannah of Arcadia. But I have had enough experience explaining myself to strangers to know that the truth is sometimes more difficult to swallow when it is unfiltered. I will not attempt to deceive you, but I will try my best to tell you my story in words you are familiar with. Is this an acceptable compromise?”
Hannah weighed the Oracle’s words, then nodded.
Lilith continued. “May I assume that your agreement not to ‘get pissed’ still stands?”
It took Hannah a second to realize that the Oracle was making a joke. She smiled. “No promises.”
The thing seemed to glow a little brighter. “Very well. I shall attempt to refrain from any douche nuggetry.”
Hannah opened her eyes wide.
“Did I use that right? Ezekiel filled me
in on your distinctive vocabulary.”
Hanna smiled again. She was starting to like this thing. “Yeah, you’re getting the hang of it.”
“Good. Please let me know where I err so that I may course-correct. Once the data change had been stored, I will never make the same mistake again. And you may want to make yourself more comfortable. This may take a while. You see, I’ve lived a very long time.”
There was a chair set just off to Lilith’s side, and Hannah settled in.
The Oracle began her story.
“Believe it or not, what I am is easier to explain than who I am. I am a person. And just like you, I want what’s best for this world, although I don’t always accomplish my goals.”
The mechanical voice was tinged with sadness, and Hannah flashed back to a vision of the Boulevard going up in flames. Failure to make the world better was something she could relate to.
“Forgive me for being thick,” Hannah said, “but you don’t really look like a person.”
Lilith laughed. “That is a fair observation. I’m afraid the technical explanation for my current body wouldn’t make much sense to you. It barely made sense to your ancestors, and they had similar devices. The easiest answer is that I live in a machine of sorts. A highly advanced machine. I once had an organic body of my own, but that was several lifetimes ago. Before I came to your planet.”
“Wait...what? You’re not from our planet?”
“Correct,” Lilith continued. “You have heard the legends, I assume. About the Matriarch and Patriarch? How they left to fight evil among the stars?”
“Yeah,” Hannah nodded. “But I always assumed that was mostly horseshit.”
The machine seemed to sigh. “Despite all my years on your planet, I still cannot comprehend your people’s preoccupation with bovine and equine fecal matter. But I can assure you that there is no falsehood in that legend. They left to fight a people of great strength and great wickedness. My people.”
“Your people?”
“Yes. The Kurtherians. There is much I could tell you about us, but I’m afraid that would take more time than you have. The short answer is that we have interfered with your planet’s destiny. With your destiny. And now the Matriarch is on a quest to interfere with ours.”
The machine paused and then her voice lightened with joy. “I do not envy the fools who stand in her way.”
Hannah thought for a second about all the legends she had grown up hearing. About the gods of old who protected the planet. And then she realized a fundamental truth.
“The Matriarch,” she said almost in a whisper. “You created her?”
“Yes,” Lilith said. “Not me specifically, but one of my kind. We created the heroes and monsters of your old world. And it was our technology that led to the Madness.”
Hannah shuddered, thinking about the time before her own. “The Madness nearly destroyed the world. It left us with the mess we’re currently in. How could you do something like that?”
Sadness filled the Oracle’s voice. “My people—despite our vast knowledge, there were things we did not foresee. Things I did not foresee. I have dedicated my many years to fixing the wrongs of my people. While our technology may have led to the Madness, it was also responsible for what came after.”
Hannah nodded. Ezekiel had told her something similar. “You created the Age of Magic.”
Lilith sighed again. “I have told Ezekiel many times that I do not like that word. What we do is not magic. It is simply science beyond your comprehension. The power running through your veins—through all humans’ veins—is the result of technology, just like my current body is the result of technology. Your technology allows you to access the Etheric realm. A place of great energy—”
“Yeah, yeah. Call it what you will,” Hannah interrupted, “but it sure seems like magic to me.”
“I did not call you here to debate terminology. I brought you here because you need to know how special you are.”
Hannah shook her head. “That’s what Zeke keeps telling me. I’ve got some skills, sure. But you said it yourself. This magical technology—or whatever—is in everyone. That means I’m not special.”
“But that is exactly my point.” The machine almost seemed to shake with excitement. “Everyone has the same tools. Everyone! Most will never realize it, but even among those who do, no one has done what you have. I sent Ezekiel out into the world to find those with gifts beyond his, with imagination beyond what my years of experience have given me. And he returned with you. He told me about your flying reptile. And what you did on the shores of Baseek. You have taken common tools and created something entirely new.”
Hannah stood and began to pace. “Zeke has been telling me the same things for months, but I don’t really get it. Yeah, OK, I grant you that Sal is pretty damned cool, but I don’t even know how I did that. It’s not like I can just snap my fingers and create dragons. I can do the physical magic because Zeke taught me. I’m getting better at nature and mental magic, but I’ll never reach the level of Laurel and Hadley. And they apparently aren't nearly as strong as others from their homes.”
Lilith paused for a second, as if she was considering how best to respond. “Do you know why those separate schools of magic formed? It was because humans lacked the strength to realize their full potential. Those divisions you mentioned—physical, mental, nature magic—they are arbitrary, and not even very accurate. Are not trees and stones both physical objects? Is not the mind part of nature? And the weather—it’s not alive, any more than bricks and stone are.
“Those divisions were not taught by me. But they, and others like them, have popped up all over the world, wherever humans practice their Etheric skills—their magic. They choose a mental box to place it in. They wave their arms in abstract motions, they put branches in salt water, they pray to non-existent saints. They develop these forms because that is the only way they know how to unlock the box that they have made. But you... When you first used your power, you used a different key. And because of that, you unlocked an even larger box.”
Hannah thought back to that day on the Boulevard. Her brother dying in her arms. The strange power that had flowed out of her.
Suddenly, she realized what Lilith was getting at.
“Oh, shit.” Hannah sighed. “Don’t say it. Please don’t say it—”
“Your form is love.”
The young woman rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty cheesy for a hyperintelligent…whatever you are.”
“As I said earlier, I will put things in words you can understand, but I will tell you no lies.”
Hannah paced back and forth. “So what does that mean? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to love this world as much as you loved your brother. I want you to love this world enough to do what it takes to save it.”
Hannah stopped pacing and sat back down in the chair. “I don’t know if I have that much love in me, but I will try.”
“I will—” Lilith started to say before stopping in mid-sentence. Her lights glowed in a new pattern. Hannah almost thought that she had broken, but when she started speaking again, her voice was grave. “There has been another breach. Another Skrim has come through.”
Hannah jumped to her feet, and as her eyes flashed red, she disappeared.
****
Hannah appeared in the middle of New Romanov with a flash of light. She stood at the center of the square outside the main residence. People stood in a daze, looking at one another in confusion. Karl ran in her direction.
“What’s happening?” Hannah asked. “Where is Olaf?”
“Went to the damned Rift. A kid told us another of ‘em came through, but this one, guess it did something screwy.”
Hannah furrowed her brow.
Karl continued, “Thing isn’t attackin’ the town. Olaf, he turned and ran that way.” He pointed to the west.
Hannah let out a shrill whistle, and Sal, who had been busying himself giving dragon rides t
o the dirty-faced kids, spun in her direction, knocking a boy off his back with the movement.
“Playtime’s over, you oversized adolescent. Let’s go!” Hannah yelled.
Sal sprinted toward her but didn’t slow down. As he passed her, Hannah hooked a hand on one of the spikes that ran down the center of his back and swung herself into place. The dragon took flight. “West,” she yelled, and he banked hard, wings pounding in rhythm.
They soared over several miles of country, but Olaf was nowhere in sight. Either he had gotten a way bigger head start than she thought, or he was one fast bear. After some time went by, she began to fear she was heading in the wrong direction.
Then she saw it.
It was unlike anything she had ever come across, which was saying a lot for Hannah. Her mind struggled to make sense of it, reaching for whatever metaphor she could find.
At first she thought it was thin, like a wisp of smoke, and almost vibrant in its darkness. It reminded her of a lightning bolt. A black lightning bolt forever hanging in the air.
As she got closer, another image came to her mind. When she was a child, she used to play with Parker near a quiet spot along the Arcadian wall. The wall was cracked there, the stone split from top to bottom. It was thin, almost imperceptible unless you stood close. But if you put your hand against it, you could feel the truth—the crack went all the way through.
Hannah was staring at a similar crack. She shuddered to think of what lay on the other side.
Sal came in for a landing and Hannah swung to the ground, crossing the distance between them and a ramshackle hut in no time. As she approached, Olaf came out of the crude building, tucking an oversized shirt into pants that were short enough to fit one of the children.
“Being butt-ass naked a lot is the curse that comes with my gift,” Olaf said, forcing a smile through his concern. “They leave me piles of clothes in different places.”
Hannah thought of making a “hung like a bear” joke, but chose wisely instead. She pointed at the dark line dancing in the sky. “What is it?”
“We call it ‘the Rift.’” His voice was a low growl, and he stared at it with a level of anger in his eyes that made even Hannah afraid. “It is where they come from—the Skrima.”
