by Evan Currie
“As you wish, child,” he said softly, without the bite he often had in his tone. He watched her walk away for a moment but then left her to find her own way, knowing that she could ask him at any time for aid. His focus shifted to the globe floating in front of him, and he set it spinning with a flick of his fingers, stopping it a second later and then causing it to expand abruptly.
He focused in on one of the green lights, off the coast of a large bulbous landmass, one of a thousand scattered islands. The system response from that location was green across the board for diagnostics, but everything else was deep red. The threat count in the area was unbelievable, and Merlin lost himself staring at the numbers.
“Lemuria,” he whispered, “we have fallen so far . . . and yet there seems no end to this black pit.”
The capital of a once proud and powerful people now served a similar function for the things that had brought them low . . . and all he—the mighty Merlin—could do was care for a few thousand survivors, barely above the most primitive hunter-gatherer societies at that.
“I failed,” he said, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. “I am so sorry.”
*****
Elan emerged from the Atlantean redoubt into bright sunshine and blinked away the light in her eyes with some surprise.
The storm had passed, and now the heat was again beating down from above with a cheerful intensity that felt alien to her. The heat of daylight had always been harsh for her when she was growing up. The cheery feel of the sun and sea air just felt wrong. Nice, but wrong.
She pushed aside those thoughts tiredly, wondering how long she had been at Avalon. It had to have been longer than it felt, but she tended to get lost when reading the book. She must have spent the night.
That would explain why I’m so tired, she thought as she made her way through the circular streets to where her own home was located.
This time no Caleb appeared to ambush her, for which she was grateful. As tired as she was, she suspected that if he made another slip as he had earlier, then she might say something she regretted later. Better that not come up. She would have to stop by Simone’s place later, anyway, and could speak with him then. She knew he hadn’t meant anything bad by it at least.
Letting herself into the small home, Elan secured the door and stripped off her belt and clothing in short order before stumbling into the bathing room for a quick wash before she collapsed into the small but comfortable bed to almost instantly fall into a deep, and not entirely natural, sleep.
*****
Simone managed to keep from laughing when she spotted her young charge cross-legged on the floor of his room with his eyes closed. He looked like he was trying so hard to focus that he might break something, but she found it rather amusingly cute that he was trying to replicate what he’d seen Elanthielle do so often before.
Rather pointless, of course, but cute.
She turned away and left the young man to it. Anything that made him feel better for the moment would lighten the atmosphere of the household immensely.
Behind her, unnoticed, Caleb suddenly slumped in place as his features went slack, and he began to tilt off to the right.
*****
Elan snapped upright, looking around with some confusion as she wondered how she’d gotten to her feet.
For that matter, how did she get outside?
Wait? Am I outside?
Something kept telling her everything was normal, but she shook her head and looked around intently. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what, but something was wrong.
“Impressive.”
She spun around, then stumbled back a step at a glowing image of pure night terror that floated there in front of her.
It was brilliant, iridescent white, with a vague outline that suggested a possibly human form . . . yet was utterly alien in ways she couldn’t put into thought, let alone words. Sharp angles, spinning wheels within wheels, triangles, and other shapes left her feeling slightly ill just trying to parse what she was seeing.
“Apologies,” it said to her, taking a step forward and shedding the unnatural shapes and composition to become a tall, dark-haired mannish person.
Almost a man, Elan decided, yet still something was off.
The figure smiled, a creepy expression that unsettled her, though she could tell it was meant to be reassuring.
“Again,” it said, though its mouth did not move, “impressive. You’re more advanced than expected, and perceptive. I am glad I chose to speak with you.”
“What are you?” Elan asked, her hand slipping down to where she wore her sidearm, her grip closing around it.
“Immaterial. You would not . . . could not comprehend what I am. You may call me Triad.”
“There’s just one of you,” she pointed out.
“No. There is not.”
Elan glanced around quickly but saw no one else, so she kept her hand where it was.
Her hand was then resting on her hip, rather than her sidearm, and she wondered why she had to think about leaving it where it was. Abruptly it came to her, and her eyes widened.
Triad smiled that creepy nonsmile again.
“And now you see. Good, that will make this easier.”
“This is the dreaming,” she started. “We’re in the overmind?”
“No, I am projecting into your own dreaming.”
She relaxed a little, though only a little. Kaern had been quite clear on how dangerous the overmind was—the place that was shared by all those who could access the dreaming—but she suspected that anyone who could project into her personal dreaming was not someone to underestimate either. Still, it explained why the environment seemed to want to lull her into accepting anything unusual. That was the nature of the dreaming, and only trained dreamers would notice the oddities that made it up.
“Why?” she asked, wondering if she could fight in the dreaming. It hadn’t come up so far, and she had little enough material to study on the subject.
“You interest me,” the figure, Triad, admitted. “You caught our attention. You are not as the others. You . . . are significant. Few people truly comprehend what that means, as I see you don’t. Do not be concerned. You will learn . . . in time.”
“That’s it?” she asked. “You’re interested in me? Okay, you saw me. ’Bye now.”
The figure laughed, a sound that was musical, like glass shards and harmonic vibrations. It sounded far nicer than his smile looked at least.
“I wanted to meet you before we left. There are decisions to make. We have made some; you will make the rest.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Elan said flatly.
“You will.”
“Hey, I get enough of this from Merlin. I don’t need more strange, confusing wordplay from a stranger-looking, more confusing . . . thing that’s pretending to be human!” she growled, now more angry than concerned.
Triad, in turn, seemed more amused than offended.
“Merlin. Yes, we know of him. He will serve you well in what is to come,” Triad said. “We have a question for you. A choice.”
“What?” She blinked. “What choice?”
“Peace. Happiness. Paradise. You may have them,” Triad said. “Come with us now, and you need never worry about another demon again.”
Elan frowned, shaking her head.
It sounded like everything she wanted, everything her mother and father had wanted for her.
There had to be a catch.
“What about everyone else?” she asked.
“What of them? They are not your concern—or ours.”
And there was the catch.
“Just leave them? What happens to them?” she demanded.
“They become demons . . . the ones that survive.”
Her mouth felt dry. “What about me? If I stay?”
“You become a demon too. If you live.”
Elan shuddered, wanting to collapse where she stood, as it suddenly felt like the
world was pushing in on her from all sides. The idea of becoming . . . that . . .
It was her greatest fear, ever since she’d slain Venadrin. That she might in turn become him . . . what he was becoming.
“Why offer me a way out?” she asked, eyes locking on the uncomfortable form of Triad.
“You caught our attention.”
“That’s it? What about the rest? Everyone else?”
“They did not catch our attention.”
Elan dropped to her knees, a chill running down her back as she twisted her head just enough to see what she knew was behind her.
Venadrin’s body was there, minus the head, slumped against the tree he had died under. She could see black pustules moving along his body and wrenched her eyes away, fighting against her own dreaming as she focused on the Triad.
“Is there no chance? Can’t we win?” she pleaded, her tone sick.
Triad was silent for a time, observing her without moving.
Finally he gestured, and everything around them . . . changed.
“This was the future just a short time ago,” Triad answered.
Elan shuddered, eyes wide and refusing to close as she watched a sea of black swallow the floating ball she had observed in Avalon just a short time earlier. It didn’t stop there, however; it jumped from ball to ball . . . sun to sun . . . and spread across . . . everything.
Everything was black . . . rotten and rotting . . . lost and writhing. Just looking at it tore at her viscerally, like claws tearing at her soul.
Elan sobbed, throwing her arms up over her eyes. “Stop it! Stop!”
A moment passed, and she slowly dropped her arms to see that they were back where they had started. She was standing again, but the chill still clung to her, and she could feel and hear her heartbeat thudding in her chest as a vibration shook her to her core.
“This is the future . . . now.” Triad gestured again.
Elan tried to slam her eyes shut but couldn’t. The expected flood of black, glistening evil didn’t materialize, however. Instead, there was just a gray fog.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” she said, looking all around.
“Nor do we,” Triad admitted. “A mere few weeks ago, by your counting . . . no time at all by ours . . . the future was fixed. This realm lost. Now, time is in flux. This realm is in play again . . . but we have no forces here. Something changed, and we did not change it. The outcome is unknown, but we can see no path to victory.”
Elan took a breath. “You’re saying that it doesn’t have to end like that. That we could win?”
“We see no path to victory,” Triad warned severely.
“But you can’t see the future. That’s what you said!” Elan said. “Just because you can’t see a path doesn’t mean there isn’t one!”
Triad was silent for a brief moment.
“This is your choice then?”
Elan shivered. “I . . . I can’t let them win. There . . .” She swallowed, looking Triad right in the unnerving eyes. “There is no peace for me, not while the demons live.”
“Very well. As you say it, so let it be. We cannot provide much aid, but we will do what we can. There are still objects of power in this world. You have one, the book. You will find others. We will leave a guide for you . . . and you will have allies. One, we will push for you. He will be your most powerful ally, but your fate lies in your own hands.”
Triad looked at her evenly for a moment before continuing.
“What is coming is not something that can be faced by mortals. The darkness that is approaching cannot be faced by mortal minds . . . By all rights, you have no chance at victory,” Triad said intently. “Yet the future is in flux. Somehow, someway, there is a path to victory.”
“Then I will find it,” Elan swore.
Triad stared for a moment before nodding slowly. “Very well. I wish you good fortune in your quest, and the light at your back, Elanthielle of Atlantis. Remember what I said, however. Your fate lies in your own hands.”
Elan snapped upright, now in her bed with her heart in her throat as she looked around her small sleeping area for any sign of the thing that called himself Triad. Finally, after several panicked moments, she slumped back down and tried to calm herself as his last words echoed in her mind.
Your own hands.
*****
“Is it done?”
The second looked amused at the question, while the third merely seemed bored.
“Of course it is,” the second said. “The boy’s mind was simplistic. Amazing that he had the potential, assuming he did indeed have it to begin with.”
“We know he had it,” the third grumbled, irritated.
“No, we know he has it,” the second stressed. “Something, some force, has changed the universe. It may have touched him as well.”
The first of the three gestured impatiently. “You gave him the push?”
“We did,” the second confirmed. “You offered her the choice?”
“I did.”
“And?” the third asked, intently pushing its presence forward.
“She refused. She chose to fight.”
“Humans,” the third muttered. “The ones worth saving are so intent on suicide as to be impossible to save. The rest squander their gifts.”
“We’ve done what we can,” the second advised. “We must withdraw before we’re noticed. Its presence is growing stronger, despite the new flux in the future.”
The other two agreed quickly, and the Triad vanished from the earthly locality, leaving behind two small changes.
Chapter 4
“Lot of tension in the air these days,” Sindri grumbled as the three friends watched the rank and file of the lady’s army bustle around from one place to another in a constant attempt to look busy.
“Aye.” Brokkr spat out the dried weed he was chewing. “Something has Her Worshipfulness all fired up. She say anything while you were around her, Jol?”
The towering man just shrugged, not meeting the laughing eyes of his fellows as they looked to him for a response. “You know I don’t like to talk about . . . that.”
“I don’t care for stories of how you satisfy Her Worshipfulness or her peculiarities in . . . private, shall we say.” Brokkr chuckled. “I mean about this nonsense.”
Jol glanced out to where another squad of demons, these from Her Lady’s personal guard and visibly more disciplined than almost any other one was likely to see or meet, rushed by in a triple-time march.
He sighed. “Just something about a wave to the southlands.”
“A wave?” Brokkr frowned. “As in water, or something more fanciful?”
“No, nothing fancy. A massive ocean wave wiped out a lord’s division,” Jol said, gesturing uncertainly. “Seems it took out the last free human city in his area too, so I’m not sure why she’d care. Demons are easy to replace, or that’s how they act.”
“They act like that ’cause it’s true.” Sindri shrugged. “Oh, lower-circle demons are rare enough and powerful such that losing one would be a blow . . . but anything above the Fourth Circle? Fodder for the most part, no matter how competent or powerful.”
Brokkr nodded. “Still, losing a division would be a black mark on a lord; there’s no question of that. A wave? Huh, that would be an oddity, I suppose, but it does happen.”
“It does?” Jol asked. “Truly?”
“Oh, of a certainty,” Brokkr said. “Not normally in that region, but it’s far from insane or impossible. Did anyone say how large?”
“I thought they were exaggerating,” Jol said, “but they said hundreds of feet high, and swept inland for miles.”
The two stocky men whistled and exchanged glances.
“That’s a bit more unusual,” Brokkr admitted.
“Aye.” Sindri snorted with laughter. “That would require . . . a rock from the heavens, you suppose, Brokkr?”
Brokkr nodded. “That, or perhaps a good-size island collapsing across the way. It�
��s happened before, not often, but enough.”
“Last time I recall was during the height of the war, when the humans were getting desperate.” Sindri chuckled. “Those were fun times. More demons died in the last few years of open fighting than in centuries before that. Was a bad idea to corner the humans that way. They got creative when they knew they were going to die anyway.”
Jol couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Humans created such waves? How?”
“We told you how, Jol,” Brokkr said, rolling his eyes. “Dropped big honkin’ rocks from above the sky, or collapsed entire islands to push the water around. Killed damn near as many humans as demons, I expect, but at that point, death was probably a mercy for the poor buggers.”
Jol liked it best when the two brothers were willing to talk about the war, about the humans that used to be. He knew, had always known, deep down that humans had once stood tall. It was hard to see in the beaten wretches he saw daily, but he’d never been able to even fake the cringes that those poor bastards showed at the slightest provocation.
It was one of the things that had brought him to Her Lady’s attention and would likely have caused his rather painful death if she hadn’t decided she liked his visage and form.
“How do you lose a war if you can do such things?” he asked finally.
“Destruction on that level will not win you a war, Jol. Not when you’re sitting on the battlefield you want to unleash it upon, at least. There’s a reason the humans held it back as long as they could,” Sindri said. “Once they used that level of weaponry, it was already over.”
Brokkr sighed. “The ways of war are curious ones, lad. A true artist of war understands when to use certain tactics and when not to. Humans were artists of war, but they were outplayed by the circles. Anyone can be beat, Jol, remember that. It’s especially easy to take even a massively powerful foe if you can strike them before they even know they’re in danger.”
“A knife in the back, you mean,” Jol said flatly, displeased by the notion.
Sindri laughed. “Nothing so honorable as that. A poison needle works better.”
“Enough of this,” Brokkr said, getting to his feet. “We’ve work to do. Jol, keep your ears open when you’re around Her Ladyship. Might be important.”
