“Before departing, the Architect King established that Basilisk had been the ruler he had groomed for this role. Much about his being dunnischkte had prepared him for this. He is made of two natures—one that can relate to both cultures, as can his wife, Caivev. I will not reject what the Creator King has made law.”
Behind her, Shandra nodded her approval and agreement. Their people had come to look to the last remaining cleric of the Veritas as their de facto religious guide. She’d even proved popular amongst the vyrm who had lost both Gerjha and the volatile Charsk. She and Trenzlr had begun working in close proximity, overlapping in shared knowledge and filling in the blanks for each other where there existed gaps.
Together, they began recruiting for a new hybrid order of Maethan and Veritas clerics. Given access to the ancient writings preserved in Basilisk’s library, they poured over texts containing both wisdom and arcane lore.
Trenzlr whistled. “I wonder what Vikrum Wiltshire would think of all this?”
Shandra cocked her head. “You know Wiltshire? But, how?”
“I was close with Tay-lore,” he reminded them. “Tay-lore often talked about him and with him. They shared much knowledge and did each other favors all the time. This seems like the kind of library he would appreciate. It seemed he was always chasing after some kind of mystic book or ancient, powerful artifact.” Trenzlr turned the book he was reading over to Shandra. “He and Tay-lore often traded texts for research and personal projects.”
The book he passed listed other creatures at least as foul as Sh’logath and many wicked spirits just as malicious as tricksters like Akko Soggathoth. She turned a leaf and scanned a story of another monster who tried to use his power to create reality-crafting crystals: artifacts that could rule minor facets of reality as they interlinked with the Feylands, a separate reality altogether.
Shandra closed the book. “We are doing the right thing, here, rebuilding a corps of magic users. We must have those equipped and educated to defend.”
Trenzlr bobbed his head. Magic had weakened somewhat with the loss of the Prime, but it still existed. “With creatures like these still out in the wild, we must be ever vigilant.”
Shandra agreed, and picked up the next book, The Tales of Myrddin the Cambion; and a pile of loose leafs fell from the binding. A page she picked up was labeled 1-The Tragic Lovers of Suranvyn. Shandra shuffled them back together, glanced at a clock, and set aside her studies. She had some place else to be.
***
Jenner and Gita walked up the slopes of the Emperor’s garden, hand in hand.
Waiting for them at the end of the walk stood Shandra. Jarfig stood by her side, holding the hand of the child, Shara. Behind them towered a statue of the Architect King. This one had been commissioned for crafting as a memorial by the Imperial family. The inscription plate asked a question; What do you value and to whom do you bend a knee? Answer truly and there I shall be.
Gita blushed as Shara waved happily. “My sister’s getting married,” the child happily told Jarfig.
“Oh, is she?” Jarfig asked as if he was unaware. “You know she is marrying my son? They are going to live here in Limbus forever so that I can be a proper Grandpa, and so you can be an aunt.”
Jenner grinned. His father had spoken loud enough for them to hear and he was sure it had been on purpose. Jenner had no intentions to do anything other than what Jarfig had described. He’d lost enough years with his father and he and Gita had both lost enough family already. They’d both lost their taste for battle.
The two held hands as Shandra officiated. Her voice and demeanor sounded sad, but she performed her role dutifully. Duty had wrapped up every free minute since the Breaking and she was bound by it. Shandra did not have the same freedoms the others now enjoyed—the oath of the Veritas still endured, as long as she lived.
Her thoughts spun off into the weeds, distracted by a stroke of envy for these young lovers. She paused, mid-sentence, quite unsure what she had been saying.
“Mirror?” Jenner asked.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He cocked his head. “You said ‘mirror.’”
Shandra shook off the fugue and concentrated. Her thoughts slipped back to Sam Jones with frequency, though she’d tried to keep busy enough to avoid errant daydreams.
What would it have been like if he and I were on the other side of this altar? Would that have even been possible had I not activated the mirror?
She knew that question would haunt her forever, but she had made the difficult choice. What remained now was duty. Shandra started her sentence again. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The young lovers kissed and Jackie clapped enthusiastically. She sat next to Claire who also applauded. Their husbands sat on their respective sides. Zurrah sat adjacent to his brother, though he’d not yet broken out of the funk of being trapped within the Edenya realm, and not knowing what had happened to Cerci.
Jarfig had carried the key that controlled the gates into Edenya, but it did not seem to work within realms other than the Prime—not without being calibrated first. Gita explained how it had been done by Shjikara and the loss of the Prime had somehow altered that calibration. None knew how to reset it without the sacristy codex. Basilisk had secreted away the gate-box, claiming, “There is an inherent danger to dabbling too deep in things we do not understand.”
Under Shardai the First, who protected the royal family during the earliest days of Vanganrda, and lasting until Zahaben’s tenure, all planeswalking was restricted because of those potential dangers it opened. That rule had grown somewhat lax under Zabe’s supervision. None spoke of it, but all knew that it may have factored into the loss of the Prime.
The back of Zurrah’s legs tingled with an odd heat as a familiar voice sounded behind him. “Hey… what did I miss?”
He whirled around to find a glowing, geometric portal burning in the air behind him. Cerci winked. The portal expanded, and she leaped through and into his arms, covering him in kisses. “I was so worried when I couldn’t open a portal to the Prime… like it just wasn’t there anymore. I assumed my new machine simply didn’t work. You have no idea how worried I was! And then I thought to try here.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” Zurrah said, and he held her tight.
***
“I think this garden is someplace special,” Zabe told Basilisk. He and the dunnischktets shook hands beneath the shadow of the Architect King. “This is where it all began between us, though the statues are no longer quite so insidious.”
Claire also shook his hand, but instead of shaking Caivev’s she leaned in for a tight hug.
“Oh yeah,” Caivev had to peel Claire off of her. “I forgot that you were a hugger.”
Behind Claire and Zabe stood Wulftone and Jackie. They were all returning to Earth together. Jackie had parents there and life already established. For Claire and Zabe, the release from royal duty opened up a host of new possibilities.
“You know, any of you are welcome here at any time,” Basilisk said.
Wulftone bowed. “We will probably drop by on occasion to catch up… make sure everything is going well here, but we’re eager to restart simpler lives on Earth.”
Zabe agreed. “And besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on Cerci and Zurrah. Those two can certainly get up to trouble without supervision… but at least we’ll never lack resources,” he shrugged. “Deep down, though, I’m rather looking forward to settling down like a couple of normal people, just Claire and I. Perhaps we’ll start our own family. I don’t know what we’ll do just yet. But I think that we’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will be, son of Zahaben and of J’v-Ellah.” Basilisk said.
Zabe bowed again and watched the portal open behind him as he unslung his baldric where the Stone Glaive hung. He climbed the base of the statue and slung the weapon over the shoulder of the Architect King’s statue to complete the memorial. “I think, I hope, that I am done needing this.”
Basi
lisk winked at him in return. “For your sake, I hope so. I desire those good things for you: family and peace. I think only trouble and duty will follow whoever wields that blade.”
“Surely we will all see each other again,” Claire said, and then she and her husband stepped through the portal to earth. Wulftone and Jackie followed.
Zabe handed a scroll to Cerci.
“What is this?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s from Shandra, something she found in Basilisk’s library. She said that you might be able to understand it.”
The unfurled parchment had a familiar looking rune drawn upon it followed by a series of mathematic equations. She suddenly recognized it from Walther’s lab and grew very excited. Cerci scanned the math which resembled hieroglyphics more than anything else. This version was more complete than the previous version that she’d seen in the lab as they’d extracted Jarfig.
As Cerci stared at it, something in her mind clicked. This looks awfully similar to the amulet that teleported Wiltshire. The math crashed into her and all at once.
“Hold on to your butts, everybody!” She started working out the numbers on her white board and then opened the laptop connected to the rift maker. “We’ve got one more mission.”
***
The Feylands
Wiltshire’s feet stamped rapidly as he crashed through the dark trees of the cursed forest. Thorns and bracken tore at his clothes. It didn’t matter; they’d been mostly ripped to shreds during an altercation with orcs. That was a couple days earlier, and he’d been running ever since.
He’d quickly realized that he was trapped in the Feylands, some dimension where the spider queen ruled. This place was not friendly to humans. A few elven traders and a gnome had been kind enough to fill in a few blanks, but none had been willing to anger the Spider Queen by offering him significant assistance.
His feet pounded the mossy forest path as rapidly as his pulse echoed in his ears. Wiltshire spotted it in the distance: a serene world beyond the edge of the dark forest. The gnomish informant told him of pockets of light that still held out against the Spider Queen’s dominion. If he could just get to one of them he could seek refuge, find a hot meal, and begin searching for a way home.
Wiltshire put on the brakes just in time. He skidded to a stop just before falling over the edge of a sheer cliff. Telltale insectoid sounds loomed larger behind him. Giant spiders and swarms of other vermin had found him; they’d surely be all over him within a few minutes and he had run out of road to flee by.
The cliff dropped vertical for hundreds of feet and he had no idea how he could climb down before the queen’s minions fell upon him. A river ran through the bottom of the trench he stood above, but at this height, even a water landing would likely kill him—if he could even reach the river. If it was not filled with jagged rocks and ravenous creatures.
He pulled out his final magazine from the backup nine millimeter handgun he still had on him. The shorter model was lighter and less accurate. Wiltshire scowled, he knew he didn’t have enough ammunition to deal with them all. The last patrol that she’d sent after him was enormous. He’d been sly enough to lose them in the woods but wits and luck were in shorter supply than his bullets.
Wiltshire racked the slide of his handgun. It sounded dirty and in need of a good oiling. He only hoped that it wouldn’t jam before he fired all six remaining rounds. He wanted to take as many of those monsters down with him as possible.
Suddenly, a familiar, triangle shape ripped open in the sky. Wiltshire spotted the familiar faces of his friends from Earth.
Cerci spoke with a jokey nonchalance. “Hey buddy, need a lift? We’re glad we finally found you—it was no easy task, you know.”
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” Wiltshire jumped through and just in time. The rift closed behind him. Moments later, a horde of giant spiders led by a cluster of driders burst out from the woods in search of him.
The driders, dark elves from the waist up that attached to giant spider bodies, growled as the trail ran cold. One of them looked over the lip and searched in vain for a body. “The Queen will not be happy with his escape.”
Epilogue
One Year Later…
Claire, Caivev, Jackie, and Gita sat together in Limbus. Both vyrm and humans strolled through the familiar place where so many new statues and sculptures now stood, telling the story of the Tesseract.
Caivev had named the place The Garden of the King and made it publicly available. The girls laughed as they caught up together.
Their guys clustered off to one side, heavily involved with some kind of board game they’d brought from earth. Basilisk was handily destroying them all at it and with barely a glance at the rule book.
“I have enjoyed our visits, Zabe,” Basilisk said as he scooped up and removed a number of Zabe’s pieces. “We have become more than just a disjointed people… folk connected by threads that span across the multi-verse.”
Wulftone reached for the dice. “Are you saying that you think of us like friends?”
Basilisk grinned. “Friends are the family that one chooses,” he said. “But I’m still going to wipe you off the table in two more moves.”
Wulftone looked down, confused as to how he might pull off such a move, but was convinced that it was probably true, somehow.
Zurrah asked, “I also enjoy these visits, but do you think that our having the machine is too dangerous? Should we dismantle the gate machine after returning?”
Cerci looked forlorn at the notion. She leaned against Zurrah, more comfortable in the circle of men than with the other women; she’d always felt that way. The rift remained open and burned nearby, just past the statue of the King where the Stone Glaive hung. It remained open to allow for their easy return.
“Do you think this will be our last game together?” Zurrah asked.
Cerci patted his shoulder playfully, ignoring what was probably a serious question that they might have to answer someday. “I don’t think you’re losing quite that badly that you should flee an entire dimension and never return.” She grinned and drew some smiles from the others.
Claire looked over and smiled at Zabe. He smiled back.
Looking beyond her husband, Claire felt a pang, like a kick inside her belly, when she spotted him.
Sam Jones had returned. He walked up the approach.
She stood and saw that it only looked like Sam. When Claire met his eyes, she could tell that it was J’v-Ellah. Still, she was happy to see him, even if it reminded her of the sacrifice her father had made.
He embraced his daughter.
“Are you back?” Claire asked. “I mean for good… are you staying?”
J’v-Ellah shook his head and walked towards the rest. The others watched, still amazed and mystified by the man’s appearance. “I am not back to stay… at least, not like this. I’m sorry, daughter. I know you had hopes, but I knew it was important that you had one final chance to say goodbye.”
Claire cried and leaned in to hug him. She had to lean and bend, discovering that her belly was in the way. The child inside her stretched and kicked, making J’v-Ellah smile as he felt it.
He said, “Life goes on. It is for life that I sacrificed what I did… chaotic, messy, painful life.”
Claire hugged his neck and buried her nose in it. He’d sounded every bit of Sam Jones in that moment, and she knew why it had to be Sam all along to make the sacrifice. “We’re naming the child Sam, either way. Samuel if it’s a boy; Samantha if it’s a girl.”
J’v-Ellah smiled with twinkling eyes. “I think the name will fit perfectly.”
He turned and addressed them all. “While it seems like the most intense parts of our adventure together have wound down… I still have plenty more adventure left ahead of me.”
Claire winked at him and rubbed her belly. She pointed to it. “You and me both.”
The Architect King turned and smiled at them all, noticing the melancholy
faces on each of them. “I will always be with you. All of you. Even though you cannot see me.” He met Claire’s eyes specifically. “I love you, my children.”
A lone tear streamed down Claire’s cheek and she squeezed him again.
“Goodbye, daughter. Peace will finally follow you, but I must depart in order to ensure that future.” He kissed her forehead and then whispered something secret into her ear, and then he disintegrated once again, much like Shandra had described to them before.
Zabe went to her side. “What did he say?”
She tearfully hugged her husband and kissed him. “He said that we are safe. Everything will finally be okay.”
THE END
Vikrum Wiltshire will return in his own series soon and you can find out more about the formation and purposes of his mysterious Red Order in the Hidden Rings of Myrddin the Cambion series, starting with book 1: Hoods of the Red Order.
Glossary
Apex – the kind of tarkhūn mutation that resulted in massive, hulking warriors. The smallest apexes are slightly larger than the largest of the Black.
The Architect King – the Creator God. He is currently in stone form, trapped within Basilisk’s stronghold at Limbus until some prophesied day.
The Black – common, lowest Caste of the species. Also called blackborn.
Carrion Worm - a type of insectoid creature that resembles a giant millipede; it carries its young in its mouth and has caustic enzymes that act as a sort of acid as well as chemical electricity.
Chamber of Mysteries – an impenetrable vault where the arcane artifacts collected by the Royal Family are kept; also home to the Tesseract.
Churdachk – a kind of vermin pack animal in the Desolation; it resembles a large rat and is slightly smaller than a mule.
Desolation – a realm of the multiverse; formerly known as Edenya before the Syzygyc War ravaged the landscape.
Dimensional Inversion Pendant – a mysterious artifact made from darquematter; it alters the link between a Prime and his or her variants.
The Architect King Page 33
