He watched the warriors continue to stream down the maelstrom bridge, eagerly marching to another world because their beloved Ardinay ordered it. If only the fools knew! He saw the ring of spectral knights that circled his tower, and his thoughts returned to Tolwyn. He wished the Gaunt Man had not called the Carredon back to Orrorsh when Aysle had been secured, but Uthorion could not think of a way to hold on to the beast. It was, after all, the Gaunt Man's most favored pet.
A disturbance in the crowd below brought Uthorion out of his memories. He scanned the bridgehead for signs of trouble, but the masses appeared more excited than worried. Then Uthorion saw, through Ardinay's lovely eyes, the flying form that swooped above the crowd and made its way toward his tower. It drew closer, and the High Lord recognized the elf mage Delyndun. The mage was using a spell to reach Uthorion as quickly as possible.
Lord Uthorion allowed Delyndun to land atop the battlement. He looked weary from his flight, but Uthorion had neither time nor inclination to let him rest.
"Speak, wizard," Uthorion growled through Ardinay's full, red lips. "What have you learned."
Delyndun did not look at Uthorion. Instead, he rested his hands upon the battlement and stared out at the dark, twisted countryside. Once the land had been rich and pure, and light filled even the deepest forest. Now, after centuries of Uthorion's ministrations, the land was tainted and full of shadows. Reaching into one of the pouches that hung on his belt, the elf produced the aged gauntlet and dropped it at Uthorion's richly-clad feet—feet that actually belonged to Pella Ardinay.
"The time has come, Lord Uthorion," Delyndun said sadly. He spoke the words of magic and gestured with one hand. An image leaped from the gauntlet and hovered before Ardinay's eyes so that Uthorion could see it. The image was that of six people, but only one made Uthorion gasp. It was the face of a woman with glossy chestnut hair and piercing emerald eyes.
"Tolwyn," Uthorion gasped.
"No! This means nothing!" Uthorion raged. "It simply signifies the end of Ardinay's hope!"
He spun the female form around, marching toward the entrance into the tower.
"Lord?" Delyndun asked tentatively, hoping not to direct the High Lord's anger to himself.
"Come with me, wizard," Uthorion called without looking back. "We must speak to my old master. For he holds the chains that bind the power that destroyed Tolwyn once before. The Gaunt Man shall provide me with that power, or Aysle will pull out of his grand scheme."
77
Thratchen followed the Gaunt Man through the winding corridors of Illmound Keep. It had been a long time since the demon had last walked these foul halls, but he was still impressed by the macabre architecture. He especially liked the Gaunt Man's special touch that masked the true nature of the cosm from those without the ability to see through its charade.
They finally reached a door that was made of heavy wood — at least to untrained eyes — and carved with obscene images of death and torture. At the Gaunt Man's approach, the door swung wide and revealed a demented throne room. A chair of skulls filled the center of the chamber, and a large, ornate mirror covered much of one wall. Beside the throne of bones rested the legendary darkness device, Heketon, black as night and shaped like a human heart.
The Gaunt Man ushered Thratchen in, shutting the door behind them. "Before we begin to search, Thratchen, you must do one thing for me."
"Whatever you ask, Lord Salisbury," the demon replied, using the Gaunt Man's proper name — or at least the name the general populace of Orrorsh knew him by.
Ignoring the demon's familiarity, the Gaunt Man led him over to the black heart. It seemed to grow warmer at their approach, glowing brighter from somewhere deep within its obsidian interior.
"Swear fealty to me, the Gaunt Man," the High Lord ordered. "Denounce your ties to Tharkold and promise to serve the Torg as a trusted lieutenant."
Thratchen's senses reeled at the Gaunt Man's demand. And did he hear right? Did the Gaunt Man claim the title of Torg? That was unheard of — impossible.
"I know what you must be thinking, Thratchen. You must feel that after all these eons, the Gaunt Man has finally gone mad. But on the contrary, I am as sane as I ever was. And now, on this world, my ages old plan will finally come to fruition. Gaze into Heketon's black surface and you will see the truth."
The demon did as the Gaunt Man asked. For a moment, he saw nothing but his own reflection in the shiny blackness. Then a blasted landscape came into view. It was this planet, sucked dry of its energy and submerged beneath a constant storm. The Gaunt Man stood over the land, bursting with the power that once belonged to this rich cosm. Truly, one with such power must be the Torg.
Thratchen turned away from the scene and fell at the Gaunt Man's feet. "Master, forgive my arrogance and doubt. I wish to serve you, to bask in the dark light that shines from you." Then he looked up, meeting the Gaunt Man's gaze. "I wish to serve the Torg."
Lord Salisbury smiled. "Rise, Thratchen, and welcome back into the Gaunt Man's fold. You shall be my second, running this realm in my stead should I need to be elsewhere. Like Uthorion before you, like your master before him, you shall be my chief administrator. Now, let us find this stormer you chased across the cosmverse."
The ornate mirror clouded as the two worked their powers upon it. Then it reached out to find Dr. Hachi Mara-Two. After a time, the clouds parted to reveal a stark white room. Within the room were a group of people. One had a mane of silver hair, and the mirror focused upon her.
"That is the stormer," Thratchen exclaimed.
"Of course," the Gaunt Man said. "With her location marked, we can now send Kurst to retrieve her."
"Where is she?"
"Just beyond the realm of Baruk Kaah, in a place that still holds the axioms of this world. I have ravagons working with the edeinos. Perhaps I should send them ahead to hold her, for it could take Kurst time to reach her. Yes, I shall send the ravagons."
The Gaunt Man paused then, tilting his head as though listening to a distant call. He passed his hand before the mirror and the scene shifted. Looking back through the glass was a striking woman dressed in regal clothing. Beside her was an elf mage, which placed them as being from the Aysle cosm. But there was something familiar about the woman's dark eyes.
"Angar Uthorion!" Thratchen laughed. "My! You are looking beautiful this evening. The look suits you and is a big improvement over your last form."
"I am in no mood for your jokes, Tharkold scum," Uthorion flared through Ardinay's mouth. "High Lord, I must ask for a favor in order to complete my part of our bargain."
"Speak, Uthorion," said the Gaunt Man impatiently.
"I need the Carredon, High Lord, for the prophecy has been fulfilled."
Thratchen kept quiet now, intrigued as he was by this new development.
"Tolwyn of House Tancred has returned from death as she promised, and she walks this planet called Earth."
The Gaunt Man was silent for a moment, contemplating the request. "I shall deal with your prophecy, Uthorion. Just get your realm established according to our schedule."
The Gaunt Man waved his hand and the mirror returned to the scene with Mara. The view expanded to show the others with her. The Gaunt Man stared for a time at the other woman, the one with the green eyes.
"That is Tolwyn Tancred, Thratchen, and she is with your stormer. I do not like the way this is developing."
Thratchen was confused, but it had been a long time since he or his master had involved themselves in the Gaunt Man's or Uthorion's affairs.
"It is time to send out my hunters," the Gaunt Man decided. He left Thratchen in the throne room to puzzle out the situation for himself while he went to take action.
78
Eddie Paragon held tight to the huge lizard man, fearful of falling as the jungle dimthread carried them to another world. The one-time rock'n'roll singer wasn't sure what scared him more — Baruk Kaah, the strange form of flight, or the three ravagons that also clung to the in
tertwined roots and vines.
"Open your eyes, singer," shouted Baruk Kaah joyously, "and look upon the world of Takta Ker!"
Paragon did as the High Lord bid, forcing his closed lids to open just a crack. They were descending toward a mist-shrouded, primeval land. Huge plants sprang out of the deep mist, and already the humidity had soaked Paragon's clothes with sweat. Before he could see much more, they were dropping through the mist and his visibility was blocked by the thick clouds of warm, moist vapor. Then their feet touched the ground.
"Welcome to Vandast, the continent that houses Rec Pakken," Baruk Kaah boasted proudly.
Eddie noticed that the ravagons had dropped to their knees. They were bowed before something that was hidden by the mist. He moved closer, forgetting his fear of the demons. He had to see what was powerful enough to humble the vile, winged monsters.
Baruk Kaah stepped in front of him. "Prepare yourself, singer. You are about to meet Rec Pakken, the darkness device that serves me."
The mists parted, and before them stood a gnarled forest of thick trees and twisted, impossibly large roots.
"The trees," Paragon gasped, "they're black as night."
"Only one tree, singer," Baruk Kaah explained, "a single tree grown from a single seed. Behold the origin of my power. Behold Rec Pakken!"
Now Eddie saw it, the twisting branches all grew out of a common trunk. They wrapped around, over and under each other, forming a thick canopy high above the tangled roots. The branches, trunk, and roots were made of a reflective black stone, and the leaves were like the night sky, filled with fiery stars.
The ravagons had completed their silent prayers and came to stand with the High Lord and the singer. "Rec Pakken sings of power and conquest," the first ravagon declared.
"It joins Heketon, the Gaunt Man's darkness device, in a grand song of destruction," the second ravagon said.
The third ravagon, as was his practice, said nothing.
Mist swirled and a dimthread descended to the ground. It was made of writhing souls, which marked it as coming from Orrorsh. Then a burst of brimstone exploded upon the miniature bridge, and Gibberfat appeared.
"He has made me, Gibberfat, a common messenger," the bloated red demon brooded. "I might as well get this over with. Hail, Baruk Kaah! Greetings from the Gaunt Man, he who is now the Torg!"
Baruk Kaah examined the demon curiously. "What can I do for yet another of the Gaunt Man's many servants?"
"Absolutely nothing, High Lord," the demon qui-ped. "I'm here with orders for the ravagons."
Gibberfat weaved a spell, forming an image from the deep mist. It was a woman with a mane of silver hair. "The Gaunt Man wants this stormer captured alive. No harm is to befall her."
He paused to let the ravagons focus on the stormer's image. Then Gibberfat continued. "She was last marked in the Core Earth city called Philadelphia, housed in a structure called the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania."
Another spell, and the mist took the shape of another woman. This one had chestnut hair and emerald eyes. "This stormer is to be captured as well. The Gaunt Man has questions for them both. They are traveling together."
"What of the other scents?" the first ravagon asked. "There are others with these stormers. What should we do with them?"
"Anything you want," Gibberfat giggled evilly, showing rows of pointed teeth. "Now fly, ravagons, fly."
Two of the winged demons took to the air, disappearing into the mist. The third remained.
Gibberfat strode over to the ravagon, tapping a clawed finger into its folded wings. "And what are you doing? Didn't you hear what I said?"
The ravagon just stood in place, silently eyeing the red demon.
"Hmmph! If that's the way it's to be." Gibberfat vanished in a cloud of brimstone, and the soul bridge retracted into the mist.
Eddie Paragon had no idea what was going on, and from the confused twitching, Baruk Kaah was as mystified as he was. But the edeinos was still a High Lord, and he had his own agenda to follow.
"Come, singer," the High Lord said, "come meet Rec Pakken."
The High Lord led Eddie Paragon into the black stone forest. After a few seconds, the remaining ravagon followed them in.
79
Father Christopher Bryce led Tolwyn and Mara to the rear of the hospital where the van was waiting. Rick Alder opened the sliding side door and ushered the ladies into the vehicle. Both women appeared curious, but Tolwyn in particular paused to run her hand over the smooth metal exterior.
"Hop in, Tolwyn," Alder said. "It might be a bit crowded in there, but it sure as hell beats walking. Sorry, Father."
Tolwyn, who now wore blue jeans, a pair of Puma sneakers and a sweat shirt that bore the emblem "Penn State," asked, "What is this thing, Christopher?"
"It's a van, Tolwyn, a vehicle," the priest said, trying to find the words to describe something that was so familiar to him that it was just what it was. He could see that the words made little sense to the young woman.
"It's a chariot, Tolwyn," Coyote called from within the van, "a carriage. But it doesn't need any horses to make it go."
Tolwyn laughed out loud at the thought. "Is it indeed, young Coyote? And which of you is wizard enough to make such magic work?"
Alder dangled a set of keys before her. "Me," he said with a large smile.
But Bryce snatched the keys from Alder's hand. "I think not, Rick. You worked all through the night to get the van ready. So I'll drive the first leg of this trip while you grab some sleep."
"Whatever you say, Father."
Bryce hopped into the driver's seat and inserted the key. But before he started the engine, he heard Tolwyn gasp. In the rearview mirror he saw Alder and Rat holding her back as Tal Tu, obviously the source of her agitation, watched curiously.
"Tolwyn, calm down! It's just Tal Tu! We told you about him," Alder tried to explain as he struggled to restrain her.
"He's a friend, Tolwyn, he won't hurt you," Rat said.
Tal Tu, the edeinos who aided Rick Alder back in New York and had traveled with him ever since, held the gray cat in one hand. He extended the other toward Tolwyn in a gesture of greeting.
"I am pleased to meet you, Tolwyn of House Tancred," the edeinos said. Bryce noted that his English was getting better every day. Coyote and Rat were teaching him well, and it didn't hurt that he was given the ability to pick it up by the High Lord he once called master.
Tolwyn calmed visibly at Tal Tu's words, but Bryce could see that her body was shaking. She sat down against the wall of the van, resting her head back and closing her eyes.
"I am sorry, Rick Alder, Tal Tu," she managed to say, "but your form brings to mind violent memories that are just out of my grasp. Perhaps they will become clearer as we get nearer the gorge."
She looked across at the young woman named Mara, who was sitting opposite her, watching with obvious concern. Tolwyn shook off the bad images and smiled.
"Let us see how this magical carriage works, Christopher Bryce."
Bryce returned her smile, and turned the key. The engine roared to life and Tolwyn jerked forward. "Relax, Tolwyn," he told her, "that's just the magic working. Hang on everyone."
Within an hour, Bryce was driving west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The fury of the storm had lessened, but the sky was still gray and overcast. Jokingly, the priest asked aloud, "Where to, everybody?"
"To the gorge, Christopher Bryce," Tolwyn answered. There was no humor in her tone, and her eyes were wide and serious.
80
Andrew Decker checked his gear for the third time. Then he scanned the remainder of his group. Of the eleven soldiers he started with, only seven had made it with him out of the storm. They stayed with the ve-
hicles through the long night, but were not ready to move further into the zone of silence.
"Sergeant, what's the diagnosis?" Decker asked Sergeant Lewis.
"There's absolutely nothing mechanically wrong with the truck or the two j
eeps," the sergeant replied, "but we can't get the engines to turn over or anything. If we're going to go on, it'll have to be on foot."
He hated to leave the vehicles, but whatever was blocking radio and television signals was apparently affecting their transportation as well.
"We either sit here, walk back into the storm, or continue north, sergeant," Decker said. "I'm for going forward."
The sergeant nodded. "Sounds good to me."
So the group left the dead soldiers in the shallow graves they had dug for them, and proceeded to march along Highway 15. The Susquehanna was on their right, and some thirty-five miles north was I-80. Decker planned to turn west there and keep the soldiers moving until they passed out of the zone of silence.
But before they had walked two miles, the group encountered a band of refugees. They were dirty and disheveled, and they carried with them whatever possessions they could. Decker halted the soldiers, then stepped forward to speak to the refugees.
"Where are you heading?" he asked, turning on his best politician charm.
"Get out of our way," one of the men said, placing himself between Decker's group and the women and children that traveled with him.
"I'm Congressman Andrew Decker, and I'm here to help you."
"Bah," the man spat, "look around you, 'congressman.' America doesn't exist anymore. At least not here, not up north. The land's been claimed by dinosaurs and savages. That's why we're heading south, to get away from the monsters."
"What's up the highway?" Decker asked. "What will we find?"
"Death," a woman answered from the back of the group. And then the refugees walked past, leaving Decker and the soldiers alone to contemplate their own course.
81
Thratchen ran the fingers of his natural hand across the smooth stone surface of the obsidian heart. He looked deeply into its reflective blackness, fascinated by the images it showed him. The shattered planet, with its energy drained, was particularly appealing. Especially when it showed him his own reflection standing upon the ruined landscape.
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