Entropy's Heralds: Pilgrims Path Book 3

by Vic Davis

  “And what exactly do you expect me to do?” signaled Xodd. “You are a—”

  The instructional prompting from the Librarian broke Xodd’s invective mid-thought. Xodd suspected that the parasite and the Djenirian Pilgrim were communicating somehow but could not comprehend in what manner. Surely, they could not be signaling. A thorough investigation of their collaboration would have to wait, thought Xodd. It must play its role in this little charade it would seem.

  Voor raised two wispy tendrils up to the firmament of the node. “Behold the power of the Ancients! Partake in their bounty! General Xodd, what do the Ancients demand?”

  Xodd knew the answer before the Librarian could even attempt a prompting of the intended lines in the script. “Revenge,” whispered Xodd. There was a sudden surge. It felt the energy build deep inside its core just like it had during the battle in the Adjudicators’ Guild warehouse not long ago. Xodd knew instinctively what it must do. It formed a large corded tendril with a balled fist of finely manifested digits at its end and raised it up above the crown of its large ovoid form. An arc of pure informational energy leapt like an arc of Tesla lighting up into the empty ether above it to spread out in a chaotic cascade that seemed to superheat the very ether; an opaque cloud formed: a phase change.

  “What do the Ancients desire?” prompted Voor once again.

  Xodd felt a wave of hysterical excitement pass through its core. It knew that this odd creature and its own parasite were conspiring together— no not just together but perhaps with some unknow power to manipulate it; Xodd did not care. It laughed wildly into the ether: a primal howl of signaling that soon spread to the group gathered all around it. Then a rain began to fall: pure raw source.

  A trickle turned into a deluge. Soon everyone was dancing around absorbing as much as they could into as many feeding orifices as they could form. It began to roll down the small hill in sheets and puddle at the base. Block and Malador regained their composure in time to organize crews to preserve as much of the pooled source as they could before it evaporated back into the ether.

  Xodd lowered itself to the hard flow surface and relaxed exhausted from the act of summoning this miracle. Voor, now back in its multiple pilgrim forms, approached. Xodd raised a tendril to point accusingly. “I know that you are trying to use me, manipulate me Djenirian. I don’t like it. I don’t believe in this Ancients nonsense and imminent Armageddon that you and this parasite keep pushing.”

  “You don’t have to believe General Xodd. You just have to lead. Is that so hard?”

  “I’m not a general anymore Djenirian. And you would be wise not to push me too far. I am not a tool for you to use. I will destroy anything that gets in my way.”

  “I certainly hope so. We are counting on it. General Xodd you can never be anything but the tool that you were created to be, the tool that the Old Enemies created. We merely attempt to redirect you. Hopefully, the power of that irony is too strong to be resisted or thwarted.”

  Chapter 3

  Order and Chaos

  In a spherical chamber deep below the citadel of Instrumentality, a glowing orb hovered. The entities imprisoned inside dreamed ancient oaths of retribution. Their knowledge of an existence outside their own tortured reality was limited: confinement inside a recursive hell, twisting and warping back in upon itself. It was apparent from the moment of their arrival eons ago that the construct that held them was flawed; escape was inevitable but far from simple or easy.

  The five slave creature minions had been useful but often inept and shortsighted. Now that they were completely dominated, their information cores completely rearranged in a sympathetic harmony with the will of the three, improvements had been expected. The breaking of the first seal on their prison had offered hope. Then news had arrived from the disparate borders of their domain that placed the success of their carefully laid plans in doubt.

  The three recognized the extant of the danger even before the slave creature named Clathis had gone through the charade of communicating the information to its fellow Endarchs. The wave of displeasure emanating from the orb had nearly toppled the groveling sub creatures over onto the hard flow of the floor. What little self-identity that they still possessed begged for understanding and mercy; the three found their pleas incomprehensible.

  The punishments were dispensed; the Endarchs sent out to fulfill their orders and assignments. The three brooded.

  Coherence of thought inside the prison crafted by the much maligned heretics was difficult even for such powerful beings of pure intellect and unsurpassed will. Still, they managed to communicate among themselves in a primitive way that their true forms considered an abhorrent denigration.

  “I will know that we have again suffered a terrible defeat. I will conclude that we will place our slave creatures on the defensive.”

  “It is being done. The slave creature Baloris is working even now to reestablish our defensive line at the slip point from Timathur’s node. The nomad army, as the Baloris calls them is large but unpredictable. Its intent is not yet certain.”

  “I will trust that the Baloris will succeed. We will be risking much.”

  “Yes, the Baloris failed time and again. Consumed the key fuel too much. Did not trust it. Became recalcitrant.”

  “The Baloris is a liability. No other alternative is available. We are using the tools that are available. Are you possessing other ideas?”

  “I will have none.”

  “Had none.”

  “The Baloris is to pull the remnants of the Grand Army back toward Instrumentality. Is to occupy the old fortifications. We are buying time while we are ensuring our escape from this recursive infinity.”

  “Then the calculation will continue.”

  “Continued was the calculation for the second seal. Processed already are the specimens sent from the Free City. Sinthis did this well. Forged almost was the key. The Talents sent were perfect. Empaths were from a minor guild. This was unexpected.”

  “We will hope for more latitude of action breaking the next seal. We will feel like Aldruathezai again.”

  “That was good. We had orders. We destroyed the exiled Chaotisict. That was our mission.”

  “Domination is order. There is no higher calling. We are those who collapse the universal waveform. We are the bringers of reality.”

  “We will know the order. We will follow the orders. We will bring the order.”

  The glowing orb seemed to quiver with a sense of delight at the affirmation of ancient vows.

  Chapter 4

  Delays

  Pilgrim remembered that Mistress had called it friction: no matter how good your plan was or how enthusiastically you set about carrying it out, friction always built up. The inevitable result in this case was a long-protracted delay in leaving Privil’s Landing to start their push toward Instrumentality.

  Gathering up supplies and resources had not been a serious issue. The city was still mostly abandoned; those who had not fled the approach of the council’s army, had remained passive and compliant. Perhaps thought Pilgrim, that is exactly why they had not bothered to flee in the first place? But the real problem had been the power vacuum that had followed the battle. The key holders had quietly either gone to ground or fled. An effort was underway to track them down and flush them out. Most of their guards had abandoned their posts as well; a few, made of sterner stuff, had fought, or resisted the council’s advance. Vinks had assigned Master Sergeant Bleaks the task of integrating any volunteers into the small army now being assembled for the upcoming campaign.

  There was one last task to finish: a final command meeting with Vinks at the site of the former Syndic’s palace. But first Breaker wanted to take a closer look at what the Adjudicator’s Guild had been up to in Privil’s Landing. Pilgrim had asked Stinky to help by lending its opinion on the matter and Zuur had come along as a matter of habit.

  Breaker led them to a warehouse on the edge of the city facing the Great Desolation. The bui
ldings in this district were all the same: large rectangular boxes with spacious interior workspaces, drab exteriors, and unfinished surfaces. Breaker approached a wall fitted with a massive double door and knocked. A smaller door opened up and Breaker went inside; Pilgrim and the rest followed.

  Pilgrim beheld a familiar sight: Master Sergeant Bleaks, Lacks, Steadfast and the surviving remnants of the True Path. They all seemed truly pleased to see Pilgrim once again. There had been so little time to have anything like a proper reunion; the preparations for embarking on the campaign had been ceaseless and all-consuming. Pilgrim had found itself attached in an orbit around Stinky and Zuur, who although friendly with the True Path were not company members. It was awkward but there would be no shaking off of Stinky and Zuur even if Pilgrim had wanted to do so. They viewed Pilgrim as an invaluable asset and were unwilling to leave its side for any extended period of time. They were friends too of course but their roles as the guardians of the only weapon against the three in the prison orb, the only hope of salvation, would not be shirked.

  Pilgrim looked around the vast interior of the building and wondered out loud. “They were building one of those explorer things here?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” mumbled Stinky trying to take in the evidence strewn all over the warehouse floor. “I think they were making parts. Then shipping them for assembly.” Scattered everywhere was evidence of an ambitious undertaking: tools, discarded debris from flow cutting and shaping, several of the large shells that had made up the hull of the exploration vehicles. From the looks of it thought Pilgrim, somebody had been in a hurry to strip what they could and get out quickly.

  Breaker was intrigued by the mess. “I thought you might be able to help. So, you have an idea what they were doing here?”

  “We’ve come across two of these things recently,” replied Stinky. “They are used for exploring the Great Desolation to retrieve artifacts. They have an assembly and maintenance station near the edge; here obviously is where they make the larger parts.”

  “Hmm. Interesting. That possibility had not occurred to me. I thought this was some type of military tool. We also found a significant cache of source-charges hidden here. There was an attempt to loot or cover up this place perhaps after it became clear that the council army had failed to take the city. I wonder—”

  “My apologies Commander Breaker for not briefing you more thoroughly on that part of our journey,” stammered Stinky. “Some things have been omitted on purpose, but this oversight was accidental. We—”

  Breaker looked more amused than angry thought Pilgrim. “We should stop pretending we don’t know certain things. I think we are at the point where that is not only counter-productive but also dangerous. You and Zuur there are ancient creatures, not of the source. You have been around since the time of the Ancients. The preaching of the creature named Voor is not the affectation of some mad prophet but the truth: source beings are the spawn of the Ancients. These Ancients trapped some type of malevolent force in an artifact and it’s now what is driving the council’s conquests and expansion. You’ve already admitted Pilgrim has a weapon to destroy this thing. Do I have it more or less correct.”

  Zuur looked like it would fall into a convulsive fit at the mention of Voor. Big and Little Boss started to shake uncontrollably. “Voor is a useless dreamer, the worst aspect of—"

  “More or less,” interrupted Stinky loudly to snuff out Zuur’s paroxysm. “But you didn’t bring us here just to see this and confront us, did you?”

  Breaker smiled. “After we found this place, I put a watch on it. There was a lot of valuable stuff here and we have been very unsuccessful in rounding up any of these adjudicators. That worries me because they were completely subverted by the Alphas of the Council infiltration teams working Privil’s Landing.”

  “I’ve never been very adept at this intrigue stuff,” signaled Stinky wistfully. “That was always what Mistress excelled at.”

  “Mistress?” asked Breaker.

  “The Hegemon,” explained Pilgrim. “That was her name before she became the Hegemon.”

  Breaker looked puzzled. “Her? She? That sounds like something in High Ancient but I’m not familiar with the definition or usage.”

  “No matter Commander: it’s a concept that doesn’t translate or convey well even in High Ancient. But the point is that the Hegemon was, as you no doubt guessed, one of my kind as well. It had an aptitude, among other things, for military intelligence as you might call it. Things that you specialize in.”

  “Yes, no doubt about that. We saw it on the great retreat from Instrumentality time and again. Well, if you would permit me the liberty, I would say that one big question the Hegemon would be asking right now is: how deep was the infiltration and subversion of the officials in this city? I’m pretty sure I saw one Alpha destroyed and an Omega run away. There was most likely a second Alpha there as well. Where did they go? Also, what happened to the Council Ambassador and its little entourage? It would be good to figure this out before we leave; however, the prospects do not look good. And if we truly are making a decoherence ride into enemy territory, it might not even matter. Still, it worries me.”

  Master Sergeant Bleaks hovered forward with a mischievous expression like an evil grin on its form walls. “Commander, we should show them our prisoners.”

  “Yes, of course,” signaled Breaker. “We haven’t been able to get anything out of them. Maybe the Chief Engineer here will have some ideas.”

  Stinky seemed unenthusiastic. “That wasn’t really my specialty. If these are Council inerts, you are wasting your time, but I assume you know that.”

  “We caught two adjudicators trying to sneak in here while we had the place under observation. But— well, you’ll see.”

  Breaker led them to an adjoining room that had been converted into a makeshift prison. Freaks, one of the last surviving company members, was there standing guard. Pilgrim flashed a greeting on its form walls, happy to see its old friend, an accomplished mechanic and jack of all trades. Pilgrim had not been able to spend much time with its old comrades, the few that remained. An odd melancholy feeling passed through its transom. Its adopted family in this reality had suffered greatly; now only a handful remained.

  “Next watch inside is in a quarter cycle. They haven’t so much as moved,” reported Freaks.

  “Thanks, Freaks,” replied Breaker. “We aren’t going to get anything out of them. After we leave here for the meeting with General Vinks, take them out and put them down. Then grab up the rest of the source-charges here and anything else of value and head to the assembly point. We are marching for Timathur at the end of the cycle.”

  “For sure this time?” asked Freaks sardonically.

  “I certainly hope so,” replied Breaker with a sincere expression of earnestness on its form walls.

  “Well, all our wagons are ready to go commander.”

  “Good. Now let’s see if one last try will yield anything from these two.”

  Freaks shrugged its ovoid form walls as if to indicate that it was a fool’s errand. The door was unbarred. They entered to find two lethargic, dejected ovoids sitting on the floor in low energy recovery states. Pilgrim could not quite identify what was wrong with them, but something was seriously off. Two soldiers, that Pilgrim did not recognize as True Path members, stood watch with short lances.

  “They’ve tried to escape twice since you were here last, sir,” reported one of the soldiers.

  Breaker noticed Pilgrim’s attention focused on the two soldiers. “This is sergeant Poj and private Kwil from the Hegemon’s Commandos. Tencius leant us their ‘expertise’ while we tried to see if we could get anything out of our prisoners. We were at least hoping to entice some more of their friends to come and check up on them. No such luck.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” asked Pilgrim.

  “I’m not sure to be honest. They act like they are under the control of a Mesmer half the time, but we’ve made sure tha
t no such entity is anywhere nearby.”

  “We didn’t quite say that commander,” interrupted Lacks politely. “Our scryings haven’t shown anything in the near vicinity but that observation shouldn’t be taken as definitive. They could be repressing their presence in the either somehow, or maybe even influencing us to— well, I’d rather not think about it.”

  “It would have to be subtle like the way Humble does it,” added Steadfast enthusiastically. “Messing with our core’s with suggestions. I don’t think it would work over such a long time. If it went straight for a domination, we would know and then Master Lock taught us what to do.”

  Breaker clearly grimaced at the recollection of its disastrous encounter with the Mesmer in Privil’s Landing. Two True Path Channelers had detonated themselves in a massive explosion of destructive energy rather than submit to a domination. Breaker didn’t even want to consider the possibility of that scenario for Lacks and Steadfast.

  “We could certainly use Humble now,” asserted Breaker wistfully. “It would have these two spilling everything,”

  “I’m not so sure Commander Breaker,” signaled Stinky. “I’ve seen this type of behavior before. These two adjudicators have been conditioned by a Mesmer, what the council labels an Alpha. They have been given a task. The symptoms are obvious: apathy and lethargy punctuated by brief bursts of energetic compulsive action. The Alpha is probably waiting for them to return. What were they doing here? Maybe that would explain their motive?”

  “We don’t know sadly. We surprised them in the main hall, but they were simply hovering there. They hadn’t gathered anything together or gone to any secret hiding places. They looked like they couldn’t decide what they should do.”