Entropy's Heralds: Pilgrims Path Book 3

by Vic Davis

  “Dram was it? That traitor has been exposed as well and marked for decoherence,” signaled Xodd wondering whether any of the garrison might have escaped. It seemed unlikely. But there was no reason to take any chances. “You now report only to me. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, we cohere to serve Chief Enforcer.”

  Xodd and Groz returned to the town center to find the work of refurbishing the barracks as a headquarters well underway. Block had rounded up a modest group of farm workers to clear out the rubble from Malador’s grenados and the supply train was already safely ensconced within a protected courtyard.

  Block saluted in its unique manner: a crisp flick of the tendril that one might think veiled some mild mockery. Xodd bristled but had given up on correcting the sergeant. “Captain, you are back. We’ve got the place looking pretty ship shape. Found a work crew and the lookouts are posted as well.”

  “Good. We will be waiting here until the Endarch recovers. We should do some training with the squads so that if we get into a real fight—” Xodd halted mid thought to observe the gaggle now hovering on a beeline toward their position.

  Voor’s group of pilgrims with Codex trailing behind approached in an agitated state. Xodd knew what was coming next. It should have kept the information about Baloris strictly to itself but the shock of encountering the Endarch had been completely unexpected; it had blurted out the revelation without thinking. Swearing the group to secrecy would have been futile. Block could not keep its signal to itself; Grivil and that old coot were completely unreliable. Xodd pushed back against a wave of frustration: so many useless idiots, so many less than completely loyal followers. Only Groz and perhaps Malador were to be trusted.

  The Djenirian approached with an expression of both delight and dismay across the form walls of its normally stolid pilgrims. “We have captured one of the Endarchs!”

  “I have captured the Endarch of War. You have done nothing but annoy me,” corrected Xodd disdainfully.

  “Captain Xodd, our goals are still in perfect alignment. Are they not?” signaled Voor’s lead pilgrim.

  “My goal is to exact revenge on the council. Your goal seems to be to use me as a tool to accomplish your mission: exactly what that is I am not entirely sure.”

  “But you were shown the vision, given the history lesson, were you not? You know the true nature of the enemies that we face,” replied an exasperated Voor. “Please be reasonable, captain. We can all profit by working together.”

  “Profit sounds like a wonderful idea,” interjected Block with an understated enthusiasm. “We might have to start thinking about paying the company members. It’s the normal procedure or so I have heard.”

  “No one solicited your advice, sergeant,” rebuked Xodd. “But your idea is not without some merit. Council soldiers receive little pay and are allowed few personal possessions, and those they gamble away with abandon. However, I suppose our soldiers are not the same. Perhaps we should sell Voor here to some slavers and distribute the profits.”

  “Captain, you should take this all a little more seriously,” interrupted Voor. “We have limited time. We must use the Endarch carefully and there is something strange about it as well.”

  “Strange? How so? It will recover from its intoxication soon enough and we can use your friend there to dominate it. Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. We will stroll through the slip points all the way into the inner sanctum with Baloris clearing the way. And then I will crush each and every one of their cores with my war club and declare myself Emperor or some such thing.”

  “It’s a bold plan to be sure,” signaled Voor with a knowing smirk on the form walls of all of its pilgrims. There is just one problem.”

  “And what is that Djenirian?”

  “Codex has attempted to taste the Endarch. It is as impervious and opaque as you are.”

  Chapter 13

  Fail-Safes

  That Which Sublimates had grown strong. It reposed now within the prison orb certain that its liberation was soon to be realized. Its lieutenants watched with a mixture of glee and fret as the dominant force of their triumvirate regained its vigor.

  The slave creatures were imperfect, inadequate vessels of their will, but still vital tools, nonetheless. Although the second seal had weakened, it continued to dampen the potency of their innate powers sufficiently to require the exigency of external help. It had been this way for a very long time. As the computations on the lock proceeded, a virtual tumbler fell into place and more of the haze lifted.

  “Do you sense that. We are close to freedom,” asserted That Which Sublimates. “We enter a crucial stage.”

  “Surely general,” warned That Which Exfiltrates, “the Heretic Which Trembles did not contrive such a simple prison for us? We must expect—” The construct that encapsulated them within their recursive infinity shuddered. The haze descended once again only to clear a moment later.

  “Not as clever as they thought they were it would seem,” observed That Which Contrives. “The heretics’ designs are constrained by the strange fundamental properties of this pocket universe. We suspected this before our incursion. Once we are free, I expect that we shall encounter no end of consternation from our next prison: an anomalous polytope of which we have very little information.”

  That Which Sublimates gave rise to a low rumble of thought. “Enough, we must focus on more immediate matters. What do we know?”

  That Which Contrives, who now dominated the slave creature Clathis reported: “The Baloris is missing. It was last reported heading toward Urta’s Rest. There was a clash at the slip point into the node. Casualties on both sides were heavy but the Baloris escaped. We are searching the surrounding network of source farms now. The slip point out of the node has been reinforced but resources are apparently scarce. We have sent additional troops to Urta’s Rest: our newest hybrid creations, two thousand fresh inerts from the core nodes as well.

  “Our communication network is working still, but there are difficulties and—” That Which Contrives paused to muster the courage to report the most recent reports.

  “And? There is no need to fear my wrath,” ordered That Which Sublimates. “What does the slave creature Clathis know?”

  “Timathur will fall. The search for the Baloris has interrupted the reinforcement of the node. The traitor attempted to send out false messages before it fled but most of the confusion has been stilled. There is a small army of perhaps a thousand slave creatures on its way down the Pilgrim’s Road. We are preparing to hold Urta’s Rest. With our new hybrids it will be impregnable. We are also martialing another army from the city of Urk, but this will take time.”

  “Hmm, I see. And what of the nomad army in the crater that was once called Indomitable?” inquired That Which Sublimates with a sardonic chuckle.

  That Which Contrives reported: “We have reinforced the slip point with the reconstituted remains of the Grand Army. A cohort of our early Omegas has been rushed there as well. We have had no success in penetrating their camps with infiltration teams. They are immediately spotted by their scouts and chased back to the slip point or destroyed outright. Their mobility on their mounts is impossible for us to counter, even our Omegas are hunted down and eliminated with little loss to their riders.”

  “But they have not moved from the crater?”

  “No, general,” answered That Which Contrives. “At least as far as our limited reconnaissance assets can determine. They have set up an extensive camp and are building something out of the flow debris: some monument or religious shrine. We should focus our efforts on reinforcing against this threat. The army from Timathur is small and we have sufficient forces to deal with it. Ten thousand nomads, however, could push their way to Instrumentality if they set their will to it. Our new army from the forced conversions must be utilized to block this threat until we are free.”

  “These slave creatures are no threat to us,” announced That Which Exfiltrates in a mocking, haughty tone
. “Once we escape this prison, we will collapse their wave functions into states of absolute nothingness. I will feast—” The prison construct shuddered again. The triumvirate watched in detached amusement as the heretics’ expertise in multi-dimensional self-referential computations exerted itself. The construct gave another shudder then came to a new equilibrium.

  “Closer and closer,” exulted That Which Contrives.

  “I wonder what they have in store for us. This is certainly only the first probing of any wards they have placed on their seal,” cautioned That Which Exfiltrates.

  “We shall no doubt see very soon. I expect we will have to push from within when the time comes,” mused That Which Sublimates. “We should not underestimate the heretics. We did that long ago to our great misfortune.”

  “I knew we had been tricked the moment we began our transition and pierced the veil of the polytope,” lamented That Which Exfiltrates. “I could sense some proto-intelligence working withing the primary potential field. It recoils even now despite our sequestration here. We ignored the data that was plainly evident but contrary to our desires in order to punish the heretics. Or should I say: we ignored the lack of data since none of the previous incursions were able to report back.”

  “Perhaps our passions were too high,” admitted That Which Contrives, “But the heretics will be rectified, no matter the cost.”

  “Enough!” ordered That Which Sublimates. “We must first break free of this prison before we entertain such recriminations. We have established what we think we know. Now we must act. Imprint upon your slave creatures our new instructions. The traitor Baloris must be found, the army from Timathur’s node destroyed. The nomads are to be watched carefully and the majority of our strength placed to prevent their approach on Instrumentality.”

  “I will be as you command,” answered the lesser two entities of the triumvirate.

  “Good. Order the slave creature Xinitis to bring us the new hybrid commander,” replied That Which Sublimates. “We will imprint upon it our wills and instructions.”

  The Which Exfiltrates complied. There was a stirring within the holy of holies. A form departed. Some time passed before Xinitis returned making its way slowly down the circular ramp that led up to the six-sided chamber above.

  The hybrid commander could barely pass down the width of the ramp even though the space could normally pass three normal ovoid source-beings. The monster’s form walls were smooth, rounded unlike the trapezoidal shapes of the previous line of Omegas: dozens of small wispy tendrils emerged, then undertook a mesmerizing, seemingly random dance. The creature reached the floor of the circular chamber and approached the glowing orb that hovered within.

  “Hmm. It is an improvement to be sure. But it is a pity we are restrained by these chains and the nature of these fundamental fields,” bemoaned That Which Sublimates. “Still the slave creature Xinitis has done well with our inspirations. We will give this one our guidance and then set it to finding the Baloris fugitive. It might have the knowledge still to do us some harm.”

  “Traitors must be punished,” chimed in That Which Contrives.

  “Yes, precisely so. Let us begin,” instructed That Which Sublimates. As if it innately detected and understood the impetus of the triumvirate’s intent, the Alpha-Omega hybrid opened a large void on the surface of its form walls to reveal a second creature now ensconced within. Unlike the previous version, this entity was not a passenger; it dangled within the maw connected firmly to the back of what might be considered a throat: powerful folds of energized source entwined to outline the opening like the lips on a mouth. These folds however, closed down to cleanly cut both source and flow allowing for efficient absorption and digestion: the hunger remained even if the Alpha had been directly integrated into the Omega.

  The programming was soon complete. That Which Sublimates was pleased. “What is this slave creature called?” inquired That Which Sublimates.

  There was a puzzled silence; That Which Exfiltrates sought the information from the core of Xinitis. “The slave creature Xinitis calls this one Xoxx or something like that. It is the culmination of the program which started with the Enforcer series and led onto the Omega and Alpha pairings. The will to dominate has been refined as best the crude information states will allow.”

  That Which Sublimates fixed its domination upon the hybrid Xoxx. “Go forth now and retrieve or destroy the traitor.”

  The hybrid let out a screeching howl of excitement into the ether: one that was detected throughout the citadel. The construct of the prison shuddered with a vigorous vibration, as if it somehow objected. After a tense moment, the computation to break the second seal resumed its relentless march to completion.

  Chapter 14

  Unintended Consequences

  The slip point exiting Timathur’s node was now well behind them; it had barely required a skirmish to breach. The small group of thirty or so Council inerts guarding it had feebly started to build fortifications: a crude barricade covering only a small portion of the width of the opening. But lacking the tools or resources to accomplish much, their efforts had failed. They were easily overrun and decohered.

  Two cycles passed uneventfully. Vinks kept them moving at a rigorous pace but could not push them too hard: a consequence of relying on slow and capricious Drothgar to pull the supply train. The limited scouts at their disposal reconnoitered forward down the Pilgrim’s Road to determine the strength of the enemy at the next slip point. Occasional patrols on the flanks checked to make sure an improbable ambush was not possible.

  Pilgrim hovered forward at a brisk pace at the vanguard of the column accompanied by almost every surviving friend ever made in this strange world. It felt a peculiar sensation within its core: an inkling that a rendezvous with destiny was approaching. The intelligence that had been crafted to safeguard and activate the entropic weapon, harbored now within its very own form walls, agreed. It possessed knowledge imparted to it from Odnir, the mysterious and powerful former leader of the Exiles. No doubt it also incorporated much of the information from Etheria’s message as well. The weapon counseled caution. The opponents that they must confront were formidable, even chained as they were within their recursive prison.

  They came upon yet another cluster of ruined buildings on the side of the road: the skeleton of a tavern, the demolished walls of a small caravanserai. “This branch of the Pilgrim’s Road used to be quite well traveled,” signaled Breaker. “Timathur was no metropolis but it was a decent resting spot on the way to and from the Free Cities. Merchants and pilgrims both plied this path regularly.”

  “Bandits too,” remarked Master Sergeant Bleaks. “The True Path worked for one of the city states down near Xin’s Hold before my time. It was in the company’s official records, but I heard the old timers talk about it too. Xin’s line was quite tenacious. There was a line of Xin anamorphs holding power there for a very long time.”

  “I think I’ve heard this story from Ziks,” recalled Pilgrim with a sudden stab of regret or perhaps guilt and a concerned thought: what was Ziks doing now? How would they activate the monolith once they returned without a message device from Etheria? That complication to their plan had not even been considered. Pilgrim pushed the matter aside. “Apparently the Endarchs locked the place up, then suddenly burst out with a vengeance to convert all their neighbors to the will of the council.”

  “Something like that,” replied Breaker. “We nearly stopped them at Kish.”

  “It was a close-run thing to be sure,” signaled Stinky. “But looking back, I wonder what chance we really had. We knew so little back then and most of what we thought we knew was pure conjecture. Unfortunately, the worst suppositions all turned out to be true.”

  “The long retreat left its mark upon all of us who were there,” commented Vinks. “But now we will advance upon the enemy in one last heroic charge. It is more than I ever hoped would be possible.”

  “I share your sentiments general,” signaled
Breaker. “But I fear that our good fortune will not hold. We have enjoyed a distinctive absence of any Council forces since we set off down this road. I worry that they will issue forth from Urta’s Rest and overwhelm us.”

  Breaker’s observation hung in the ether like a cloud of flow debris after an explosion. Pilgrim could see that Breaker regretted the comment. “Let us hope they underestimate us then,” announced Pilgrim. “They have no idea what is about to fall down upon them.”

  Vinks chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Onward to Instrumentality!”

  There was a brief cheer; the march down the Pilgrim’s Road continued in silence. After two more cycles at a brisk pace, they reached the slip point to the next node. Just as the scouts had reported, there were neither enemy troops nor fortifications positioned to contest their crossing. They entered the node and sent the scouts ahead further down the Pilgrim’s Road; on the far side of the node the slip point leading into the node of Urta’s Rest awaited.

  Three cycles of arduous marching passed quickly; the scouts returned with news of an enemy presence ahead at the slip point. There had been a skirmish on the road with a detachment of Council runners; all of the enemy had perished but their disappearance would be quickly noted. Vinks ordered the column to increase its pace and made plans for a quick assault before reinforcements could be called up from anywhere nearby.

  Pilgrim now observed the slip point defenses from the center of their assault line: a smooth wall of large flow slabs, two formidable defensive towers surrounding a gate. “How many do you think there are behind that wall? That’s a pretty long stretch to cover?”

  Breaker had been observing the fortifications with a detached air for some time. “Difficult to say. And once again, a scrying isn’t going to help us.”

  Vinks seemed unconcerned. “It doesn’t really matter at this point. We are either going through or not. It’s not like we can turn around.”