Courageous

by Nicholas Olivo

  I looked at the fallen Mentem, and rubbed my face. The problem now, of course, was what to do with him. I thought back to the Glimpse I’d seen shortly after defeating him the first time. Well, that decided that.

  Just after I’d first manipulated time with tachyon, the Tempus given me a chronometer, told me it was so I could learn to work with time safely, when in reality it had been so that I wouldn’t be able to stop Carmilla from killing Galahad. I understood why now, and wasn’t angry with him anymore. Well, not much, anyway.

  But during that conversation, he’d said that I’d learn how to time travel. So that seemed as good a point as any for what I had in mind. I created a time portal like the one I’d used at the swamp, and popped into the Tempus’s office, mere seconds after a past me had just left.

  The Tempus merely arched an eyebrow at me. “Back again so soon, Corinthos?” He glanced at the unconscious form slung over my shoulder. “And who’s your friend?”

  “Friend would be a stretch,” I said. “This is the Mentem. He’s a synthetic being who was designed to destroy me. Back when La Place’s demon corrupted time, you delivered me to him, with the intent of him killing me.” I dumped the Mentem onto the floor.

  The Tempus’s face had gone stony. “And?”

  “I saw a Glimpse of his life back then. He said he’d spent thirty years out in the world, getting overloaded from psychic feedback. You found him, somehow, and you brought him to a little desert pocket dimension outside time, where he could live in peace. Except for those times when someone with psychic powers tried to interfere with time. Then you dropped those people into the desert and let him kill them.”

  “I see.” The Tempus’s voice was still neutral, but his face was searching mine. “And why have you brought him here, now? Why not simply kill him?”

  “Because I don’t want the past to get screwed up,” I said. “You’re right, I could’ve just killed him. Or, I could’ve left him in that pocket dimension myself. But then anyone you had him kill would still be alive, and I don’t know what that would do to the timestream. It also means that you wouldn’t have known about him back when La Place’s demon took over, and so I wouldn’t have fought him.”

  What I didn’t say out loud was that I’d barely won that fight against the Mentem. If time were changed, and the Tempus found himself a different, even heavier hitter, then that would ruin my future. Mostly because I’d be dead.

  “So, I’m trying to keep time and history intact. I figure you can look into his future and know when he’s supposed to go to that desert, and who you’re supposed to send to him for execution. I don’t like it, but I also know the ramifications of changing time.”

  The Tempus gave me a considering look. “The event with La Place’s demon is in your past,” he said. “Yet you bring him to me for what you say is the first time, now. Why?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because you’re a Chronicler. Because we’re outside time here. Because you guys don’t treat time as linear. Because the Tempus I fought back during the La Place’s demon incident may well be you from the future. Will you just take this idiot off my hands before I start to get a migraine from all this fourth dimensional thinking?”

  The Tempus gave me a grin just then. “Corinthos, I must say, I am impressed. And, truth be told, a bit proud of you.” He gestured to the spot in the room where he’d once created a rift to send me back to the office. “That version of you would not have been able to do what you’re doing now.” His smile brightened. “Perhaps this time will be the last time. Perhaps, this time, you will not jeopardize time, and you and I can finally get out of the infinite loop in history.”

  And that stopped me cold. The next thing I’d been planning on telling him was that Treggen was coming for him, that time was still in danger. Could I? What if the Tempus had taken that particular time as holiday because I warned him? What if I told him, and it altered the future in a bad way? No, screw it. Marty McFly had written a warning to Doc Brown, Doc had read it, despite knowing the potential consequences, and the universe hadn’t collapsed in on itself.

  “One other thing,” I said. “Treggen is coming back. I think you can sense when I’m from. You’ll want to take your holiday around then.”

  The Tempus’s face darkened. “If Treggen has returned, then I will bring the full power of the Chroniclers to bear on him.”

  “No, you won’t. And I know you won’t because you don’t when I’m from. You’re on holiday. I’m still looking for you, but so is Treggen. Stay off the grid when the time comes. We’ll get the bastard together.”

  The Tempus looked pissed, but then it cleared and he gave me a wry grin. “You have grown much, godling. I think that yes, this will be the last time we go around like this.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “You’ll take care of him?” I asked, nodding at the Mentem.

  “I will,” he replied.

  “Good. See you around, Tempus.”

  I took one last look at the Mentem, lying there on the floor, knowing that while I’d never see him again, he’d see me.

  Chapter 17

  I returned to the cloning facility in the Undercity via portal a few moments later. I found my companions in a room full of inert Treggens, all of them as limp and lifeless as rag dolls. Megan was sitting with her back to the wall, leaning on Herb’s shoulder. Her face was regenerating as I watched, the horrific burns simply fading away, leaving perfect new skin in their place. She touched her cheek gingerly and smiled. “You know, I always was a bit jealous of Vincent’s healing abilities. I’m not happy I’m undead,” she said to Herb, “but I could get used to this.” He smiled back at her and gave her a squeeze around the shoulders.

  “Everyone okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Gears replied. He was out of the mech, Billy’s legs twisted at unnatural angles. “Um, we won, I guess,” he said, nudging the closest clone with his toe. “They all just collapsed when you and that other guy vanished.”

  “Huh. I wonder if he was controlling them telepathically.” I shrugged. “Let’s destroy these guys before Treggen decides to reanimate them.”

  “But where is Treggen?” Gears asked. “I figured we were walking in to a boss fight.”

  “He must’ve come here, created the clones and freed the Mentem, and then taken off,” Megan said. “And now we’ve got no way to track him.”

  “There has to be another way,” I said. “Gears, have a look at the Mentem’s genetic makeup. Maybe there’s something in there.”

  “That was detailed in the file, Vinnie,” Gears said. “Treggen based the Mentem off of your genome.”

  “What? Mine?”

  “Yours back when you were worshipped by the Urisk, yes. They figured the psychic powers were somehow linked to your genetic code. There was DNA from a few other psychic critters, too, to give him a boost. The thought was that by mashing up a whole bunch of creatures with similar powers, they’d make a super being that could stop you.”

  “That’s total crap,” I said. “And they thought the powers the Urisk gave me were linked to my genes? That’s just ridiculous.”

  “Maybe,” Petra said, “but the Urisk’s faith did influence your behavior, cause you to act less rationally, and make bad decisions.”

  “I don’t think that affected my genome, Petra. This is bullshit pseudoscience, like when Warden Garside thought that Ulysses Pendleton’s shadow powers would somehow allow him to alter the future.” A thought occurred to me. Well, two. The first was that if the Mentem was based off of my DNA, then he would’ve inherited the powers my caul gave me, most importantly, my immunity to mental domination. But the ramifications of the other thought were what I was caught up in.

  “Wait. Wait. When La Place’s demon corrupted the timestream, Wheatson told me that dragons and deities with ties to time wouldn’t be affected, which was
why I could help Wheatson out. What if Treggen knew that, too? What if he created the Mentem with the intent of having a soldier who would be unaffected by the changes in time? He intended to have the demons from the church, too, since celestial and infernal beings aren’t affected by temporal manipulation, either.” I’d learned that rather painfully during my time in the Pit. “So Treggen gets himself a squad that won’t be affected by time, and he can use them against the Chroniclers, the Caulborn, anyone he wants.”

  “That’s all well and good, Vincent,” Megan said. “But it doesn’t solve the problem of where he is now.”

  “Right, right,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “Hang on. Meg, Carmilla told me that when she fed on different paranormal creatures, she was able to absorb some of their traits, so they would consider her one of them. Could you do that with Treggen’s clones? Feed off of them and learn more?”

  “Not a bad thought,” Megan said, “but I already drained two of them and didn’t get anything.”

  “Damn.”

  “You know, Corinthos, it’s almost amusing to watch you flounder about, but it gets so wearisome. I think it’s about time we just did away with you once and for all.” Drago stood in a doorway to my right, a chronopistol in his hand. He took in the deceased Treggen clones, then tapped the face of his watch. No, not a watch. A chronometer. Shit. The tachyon swirled around the clones and I watched them un-die. Their flesh reformed, their wounds closed, and in the amount of time it took me to realize what was happening, the Treggen clones popped back up, apparently ready for round two.

  “Oh, come on,” Gears groaned as he scrambled back into Billy’s cockpit. Even though the mech couldn’t walk, its weapons systems were still online, as evidenced by the blaster barrel that bloomed from his wrist. “How many times do we have to do this?”

  “Infinitely,” Drago responded, and pressed another button on his chronometer. I felt time shift around me. My friends were moving in slow motion, the Treggen clones engaged in combat, but likewise slowed. Drago grinned at me. “So, Corinthos, you’re not affected. Well, no matter.” And he fired. The last few times someone’s shot at me, I innately slowed time down, giving myself a chance to dodge or do something I thought was clever. But whatever Drago had done with his chronometer dampened my ability to do this, and the bullet ripped through my jacket and tore a chunk out of my right biceps. My enchanted suede jacket could stop regular bullets, but chronobullets were something else altogether. I snarled against the pain, and waited for my healing factor to kick in.

  I kept waiting.

  In the meantime, Drago seemed a bit confused. “That should’ve completely erased you from existence,” he said.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I growled. “Tell me something, Drago. Why? If you’re Caulborn, you know that Treggen is bad news.”

  Drago snorted. “Caulborn? No. I was a Chronicler. The Tempus exiled me when I removed my brother from time so I could sleep with his wife. He took my chronometer and banished me. Treggen was a friend of mine, one who understood what I’d done. He gave me my chronometer back. I have used it as I saw fit, removed my brother once again, and taken that which I desire. And now I will use it to finish you.”

  I blinked. “Wait. Are you telling me that you just missed our fight with the Mentem and the Treggen clones because you were going for a booty call? Dude, how happy do you think Treggen’s going to be with you for that?” I was trying to keep Drago talking to give my arm a chance to heal, but something was wrong. Why hadn’t the wound closed yet? Once the tachyon veil the Tempus had placed around me had been removed, my healing had cranked up to eleven. But now…

  Now, stupid, you’re in a Chronicler-made tachyon field. What did you think was going to happen?

  My right arm hung uselessly at my side, blood running down my arm and into my hand. Drago simply shrugged at me. “I think that so long as I bring Treggen your head, there will be no hard feelings.” Drago lined up and fired again, but I managed to stick a portal onto the end of the chronopistol. Drago dropped the weapon, charged forward, and slugged me in the stomach, something I hadn’t seen coming, and I doubled over. He started mucking around with his chronometer again, and I couldn’t do much beyond awkwardly stumble into him, hoping that my clumsy bull rush attack would put him off balance. I got lucky and we went down in a heap, but he was already rolling away from me.

  My switchblade slid from its hidden sheath into my fingers, but the pain in my arm made it impossible for me to grip the knife. It clattered to the floor, and Drago was already moving in for another blow. And then I remembered what I was carrying in my back pocket. With speed born of pure terror, and perhaps helped along by my amulet, I pulled out a second switchblade, this one opening as I thought of the action, and its edge gleamed in the light.

  I still had the Rosario.

  Drago obviously hadn’t expected me to have a second weapon, because he’d gotten too close, and there was no way he could disengage in time to avoid being stabbed. I punched the blade into his midsection and then pulled it out. He gasped and sprayed me with blood from his mouth. But I had to give it to the guy, he had focus, because his trembling hand started to move for his chronometer.

  “No, screw that,” I said, and stabbed down, driving the point of the Rosario through the chronometer and into Drago’s wrist. A high-pitched keening split the air, and time seemed to speed up and slow down at once. In the room beyond, Megan and a pair of Treggens were engaged in combat so fast that it was like watching an episode of Dragon Ball Z. Punches, kicks, slashes and bites all happened in a blur of blonde hair and cloned fists. Just a few feet away, Petra and Gears were moving in slow motion as a Treggen lunged at them, the charge seeming to take an eternity. The one that got me was Herb and the Treggen he was fighting. Each of them was trading off the super speed/super slowness. Treggen would throw a punch at Herb lightning fast, and Herb would be going so slow that he couldn’t dodge it. But once Treggen’s blow connected, the speed switched, and then Herb was accelerated and Treggen seemed to be moving through molasses.

  “What have you—” was all Drago got to say before a shockwave of blue energy slammed into me, sending me sailing across the room. I hit the far wall and my head rebounded against one of the clone tanks. Drago was screaming, and his legs and arms becoming translucent, then returning to normal, and then his head and torso underwent the same thing. I realized that he was being transported somewhen else, molecule by molecule. The chronometer was trying to transport him away, but it had been so badly damaged that it could only do it a tiny piece of him at a time. It must have been excruciating, but I wasn’t sure I felt bad for the guy.

  The Rosario was still buried in his wrist, and it too faded from view. Then Drago’s scream faded, and finally ceased all together as the Chronicler flickered from my time. A piece clicked into place in my head as I realized exactly where and when he’d gone.

  Time came back to normal for my friends, and again the Treggen puppets had gone limp. “Okay,” Gears said. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but why did they stop fighting?”

  “Drago can’t control them when he is now,” I said, wincing as my healing factor kicked in and began closing the wound I’d taken.

  “When he is?” Megan asked. “Don’t you mean where he is?”

  “Let’s have this conversation back at Courage Point,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Gears said, “And can we take Billy right to the shop? I’m not sure what that guy did, but I can barely walk.”

  Back at the Defenders’ table, I waved a hand and restored Billy back to full, working condition. That done, I filled my friends in on what had happened. “So, where do you think he ended up?” Megan asked.

  “If my guess is right, about 990 AD or so. Paracelsus forged the Rosario back in the 1500s. But I found it in a Viking chest that had been sealed since 997. Right afte
r I recovered the Rosario for the Keepers, the Loremaster told me its history. He said that there was a battle where the Rosario struck a Chronicler’s chronometer, and it transported them both back to the 990s.”

  I thought back to that night. The Loremaster had been hesitant to tell me how the Rosario had wound up with the Vikings, and now I understood why. He’d been afraid that he might give away something in my future. I shook my head. Time travel was a bitch. Returning my focus to the present, I said, “I’m willing to bet that Drago’s chronometer is totally out of commission now, and he’s probably just encountered some rather unpleasant Vikings.”

  “So, they’ll seal the Rosario away so you can find it again in a thousand years?” Megan asked.

  “Give or take a few,” I said.

  “Wait a sec, Vinnie,” Gears said. “You just sent the Rosario back in time to 997. I get that. That Rosario is going to stay in a treasure chest. But what about the original one? There’d be a Rosario from the 1500s, right? Is there another one still out there?”

  “No. The original Rosario was used in Cynthia’s creation. The paranormal killing enchantments on it were suppressed, and it, along with a few other celestial metal objects, were melted down to make Cynthia’s body. Fast-forward to the other day, when Cynthia absorbed the Rosario I’d found in the chest. It reawakened all those malicious enchantments and turned Cynthia evil. I brought Psyke in to help Cynthia, and she removed a piece of Cynthia, a piece containing the malicious presence, and gave it to me. That piece is what I just used to stab Drago’s chronometer and send him, and the Rosario, back in time.”