Entropy's Heralds: Pilgrims Path Book 3

by Vic Davis

  As Pilgrim’s sphere of consciousness expanded and rose toward the ceiling of the node, a grim reality was revealed: a disaster in the making. Down below the circle of wagons grew smaller. Zuur’s and Voor’s forms stood out from among all the others: blurred smudges that contrasted with the sharp outlines of their neighboring ovoids. Pilgrim thought to detect some awareness on the Djenirians’ part to its extra-corporal excursion but could not fathom how they might communicate; there seemed to be no way to will a signal of symbols into existence, try as Pilgrim might.

  Higher and higher into the ether, farther than it had ever pushed before, rose Pilgrim’s awareness increasing the breadth and width of its scope of perception. There! Vinks was on the move but not where Pilgrim had expected. A small group of fusiliers with a small bodyguard of short lances was advancing across the rooftops to the center of the outpost. Pilgrim thought to recognize the Alacrity banner among them.

  But the majority of Vinks’ army had left one of the cardinal gates and was assaulting the enemy supply train and camp on the main road. What was left of it at any rate; the storm had dealt significant damage to those who had foolishly sought to ride out the storm within their makeshift shelters.

  The enemy, however, had recognized the threat; even now a detachment of troops was leaving the nearest gate to hurry down the slope to confront Vinks head on. Pilgrim struggled to get a sense of the enemy’s strength. The flow from the many buildings masked much of what was inside. But there could be no misapprehension of the overwhelming advantage that the enemy still possessed; they outnumbered Vinks’ forces at least three or more to one.

  The tactical choice now seemed obvious, but Pilgrim would report to Breaker and let the Master Tactician decide. Pilgrim was just about to return to its core when odd shapes off to the side came into focus: long powerful tentacles, massive spherical bodies, dark auras that might match Pilgrim’s own. Two Omegas of a type that Pilgrim had never before encountered lurked stealthily in ambush on the rooftops ready to spring their trap on the advancing fusiliers of Alacrity.

  Pilgrim snapped hurriedly back into its core. “Breaker! Vinks is on the move to destroy what is left of the enemy supply train. Alacrity is moving to help us, but they are about to be ambushed by two Omegas. We must do something.”

  Breaker had mounted the wagon to get a better view. “The enemy is still flooding this square with troops. Where is Alacrity now?”

  Pilgrim pointed with a guide tendril to a row of buildings near the avenue that they had just taken to arrive at the square. “Over there. On the rooftops. The Omegas are waiting on their left flank.”

  “I see,” signaled Breaker. “I think that it’s time to use that weapon of yours: the ‘rifle’ as you call it.”

  Stinky unslung the artifact and handed it over to Pilgrim. The device seemed to buzz with enthusiasm. If it had done so before, Pilgrim could not recall. The Librarian of Odnir’s weapon once again informed Pilgrim of the artifact’s status: roughly fifty percent charge remaining.

  “I’m going to get up on the barricade and clear everything that I can,” announced Pilgrim.

  The Old Alchemist had been busy selecting another grenado to hurl over the stockade. It caught sight of the artifact weapon. “What in the Unhallowed Nodes is that? I’ve never seen such a thing. It is neither flow nor source at first glance.”

  Pilgrim ignored the Old Alchemist’s intense ogling and hovered down from the central wagon to the side of the circle that faced the enemy’s main direction of advance. It formed Hemple’s paradox in its transom: black ravens, white shoes. Pilgrim rose up into the ether in an astonishing display of levitation. The trigger was activated; a brilliant beam of pure ethereal destruction swept out into the teaming masses of Council inerts disintegrating anything that it touched. All fighting ceased; the enemy panicked and fled. Pilgrim could feel the energy drain from the artifact but did not relent. It swept the beam back and forth to ensure maximum destruction. A final pass across the far side of the square brought the energy into contact with the flow of the buildings. They exploded into thousands of shards inflicting even more decoherence.

  The artifact rifle’s discharge stopped abruptly. An eerie silence settled over the battlefield; a swirling mist of effervescing source was all that was left of the hundreds of Council soldiers who had only moments ago packed the area. A small number of the enemy fighting on the flanks of the defensive circle had been spared from the artifact’s deadly touch, but they now fled in a pell-mell dash to find cover in the nearest buildings.

  Pilgrim dropped the depleted weapon and propelled itself over the barricade toward the area where Alacrity was expected to appear. Stinky signaled a vehement rebuke: “Come back here Pilgrim! It is not wise to take such risks.”

  Zuur gave a mad howl and then followed through the breach in the wagon wall. This brought Humble mounted on its Omega in their wake. Mong and Groz joined in as if called by some undetectable signal in the ether.

  Xodd watched amused as first Pilgrim and then the lumbering ovoid charged forward into the now almost empty main square. The amusement turned to dismay as Groz followed them. “Block! Form our company up! We are attacking.”

  Block for once did not instinctively object. It sent the orders on to what remained of their company and they were soon moving forward back to the main gate from which they had retreated.

  Xodd watched as Groz and Mong caught up with the strange ovoid who had appeared out of nowhere to save them. A glance at their destination turned consternation into dismay; a desperate battle lay ahead. A group of Hegemon fusiliers was now at the edge of the square caught in a close quarter fight with two Council Omegas. These must be some new variants, thought Xodd. They lacked the crisp geometry of the older versions, but they were no doubt even more deadly. Somewhere nearby must be their Alphas. Xodd scanned the area looking for any obvious place from which they could be controlled but could not find any such location. They would need to be close though. “Malador! Take Block and the company to the gate and attack any enemy forces that you come across. We need to hit them hard while they are in shock. I’m going to help Groz with those Omegas.”

  Malador naturally objected. “My lord captain, you should not risk yourself. Let me go in your place.”

  “Do as I order Malador,” rebuked Xodd.

  Malador reluctantly submitted and departed with Block. Xodd hurried to join the fight with its still glowing war club at the ready. On the rooftop ahead the strange alien ovoid, apparently carrying a similar parasite, was already engaged with one of the Omegas; it was performing a series of amazingly fast movements that almost looked like teleportation. Could this creature gate while fighting, wondered Xodd? The parasite within its form walls, still jubilant at the arrival of its “brother”, offered no comment. Xodd signaled to it directly: “If you value this brother, give me your strength again.” The answer was an immediate joyful affirmation.

  Xodd quickly located the ramp up to the rooftops; the Omegas were putting up a fierce resistance. Already several of the fusiliers had been consumed: their empty cracked information cores spit out unceremoniously to float slowly down to the flow of the square below.

  Approaching from behind, Xodd laid into the rearmost Omega with a massive swing of its war club that made solid contact; the hardened surface of the creature’s perpetual battle form yielded with a delightful crunch. The energy from the Librarian flared, channeling from deep within Xodd this time to exit through the tip of the club; the monster roared in pain.

  A tentacle lashed out to punish its tormentor. Xodd braced for the impact but an avalanche of flow hurled through the ether to form a protective barrier blocking the strike. The wall shattered deflecting the force of the strike sufficiently to prevent any serious damage.

  Groz now appeared at Xodd’s side, twin tendrils glowing brilliantly in the ether. “Keep it distracted, captain. Mong and I will finish it off.” The Telzra apprentice then vanished as quickly as it had appeared.


  Xodd surged its energy into its battle form and aura; a glorious burning sensation enveloped its transom as it worked itself up into a rage. Griping its club firmly with the digits on its corded tendrils, it launched itself forward in a mad dash at the Omega to land another firm strike against its perfectly spherical form.

  The monster was still pondering the source of the last pile of flow rubble that had hit it from the flank, when Xodd’s club struck it square in the center again. The force of the blow staggered it sending the four massive tentacles flailing.

  Groz materialized suddenly next to the stunned creature and plunged its high energy tendrils into the Omega: deep penetrating thrusts that seemed to find no resistance whatsoever. Before the wounded beast could even screech, Groz had vanished.

  The Omega lifted itself up onto its four grotesquely thick tentacles to assume the shape of a massive arachnid. It stabbed down madly at its opponents while trying to back up across the rooftops seeking to make a smart retreat.

  Not so fast, thought Xodd launching itself on another run to strike at its supports. As it neared the first long corded tentacle a makeshift stairway of large chunks of flow assembled itself directly in front of Xodd: an invitation from Mong to hit the Omega’s body. Xodd hovered up the ramp and struck a forceful blow straight into the creature’s center; energy from the Librarian once again surged through Xodd and out the tip of the club. The Omega collapsed slowly with a pathetic groan to the rooftop. Groz was waiting to apply the coup de grace.

  The spherical body of the Omega rippled in a death rattle. A cavity opened up, different than the one used to consume its prey, to reveal a strange ovoid nodule attached inside: an integrated entity that nonetheless still possessed its own distinct form walls. It began to whimper: a truly pathetic disturbance in the ether. Groz advanced quickly and plunged its tendrils into the nodule; the noise ceased.

  Xodd swept its transom across the nearby rooftops to locate the second Omega. The sight which greeted it was truly bizarre. Two Omegas were locked in a death struggle: writhing tentacles, gaping maws clamping down on each other. The strangely familiar battle form that the parasite claimed as kin was now atop one of the Omegas plunging four sizzling tendrils down into its opponent’s body in a feat that would make a Telzra envious. The enemy Omega was finished.

  “Is that source being a Telzra?” asked Groz astonished at the display.

  “I do not think so,” replied Xodd finally realizing why the creature was familiar; since their last meeting, its battle form had changed to the point that it was almost unrecognizable. “It is an alien from another world if its claims are to be believed and I think they should be. I did it wrong a long time ago. Hopefully, it will not hold a grudge.” Xodd paused to order its thoughts then continued: “Listen closely Groz. They will not believe that I saved you from certain extinction. They will tell you that I stole you from them. Do not believe them.”

  “Captain, I would follow you anywhere. Nothing could test my loyalty.”

  An odd mixture of emotions played across Xodd’s battle form: relief, pride, perhaps even some shame. The expression of any emotion on such hardened form walls was unusual. If Groz divined anything from their surfacing, it gave no sign.

  Mong now bounded up to them in a joyous series of hovering hops. It had returned to its normal diminutive form; the expression of pure rapture at its reunion with its former boon companion startled even Xodd with its unbridled ferocity. A brief pang of jealousy flittered through Xodd’s transom. Groz had other loyalties. Xodd had repressed or forgotten inconvenient facts; it had repeated the lies that its intentions had only been noble so often, that it now might even believe them. But no matter what happened, Xodd vowed to be true to Groz, the offspring that it could never have.

  “The battle rages on! You two must postpone your celebration until it is finished,” chided Xodd mildly. “We must find Sergeant Block and push to the gate. The enemy is in full retreat and we must take advantage of the opportunity to annihilate them.”

  Groz snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!” Mong squeaked some similar expression into the ether: an unintelligible static that could not possibly have any symbolic meaning.

  They hurried down the ramp returning to the square, then set off in pursuit of what remained of their company and now much diminished little army.

  Chapter 17

  Reconciliation

  “Voor seems to be enjoying this immensely,” observed Breaker dryly. “And your friend, Stinky is quite pleased as well.”

  Pilgrim shrugged its form walls. It had been observing the comings and goings to the ongoing negotiations for some time but had felt no urge to join them or even listen in. Stinky had had no such reservations; the complete victory over the Council army at Imbal had energized the former Chief Engineer of the Hegemon to an enthusiastic state of optimism and action.

  Pilgrim watched a moment longer then signaled: “I know they think we’ve had some breakthrough, but I have a feeling there is something ominous waiting up ahead for us. This is only just the beginning. And that Baloris creature gives me the creeps. It keeps staring at me surreptitiously. It thinks I haven’t noticed but it keeps moving and circling around the group to get a look at me.”

  Breaker sighed. “No doubt you are correct about what lies ahead, Pilgrim,” conceded the newest and most likely last commander of the True Path. “But we must take encouragement from what has happened: good fortune, a positive outcome on the battlefield against nearly hopeless odds, the renewed ability to take the fight directly to our enemies. These things should be leveraged to further increase our chances of success. We must harness this change in circumstance and ride it as far as we can push it; I do not counsel false confidence. But the histories show time and again that a highly motivated force can fight and overcome long odds. We could not ask for better results each time we have flung ourselves at our enemies.”

  “I’ve been your student long enough to trust your competence in these matters. If you believe we have a chance, then I do too. This weapon placed inside me urges the same action. It’s convinced that Xodd over there is a strand of destiny woven into our fates long ago. It insists that we accept it as a flawed carrier of Radzak’s ingenuity and foresight. But still, I have reservations. I can’t explain them.”

  “I wouldn’t trust Xodd as far as I could smash it with my club. But we don’t need to. We need only confirm that our interests align and that Xodd’s options are constrained. Besides, at this point there isn’t much left of Xodd’s mercenary company. And Voor seems to have a handle on motivating or cajoling that group to do its bidding.” Breaker focused its transom on a small group of ovoids clustered off to the side of the main group near the anomalous shape of a lumbering Omega. The Valor clone, Mong and Humble were clearly enjoying themselves enraptured in some private conversation of an amusing nature. They were catching up on recent events perhaps, thought Breaker. “I look at that Groz, and I can only see Valor. Xodd couldn’t have been in Privil’s Landing when that Mesmer stole Valor. There is no telling what actually happened, but at least some part of Valor coheres and continues on. I will need to make my peace with it. It might even serve us in a positive way. Groz and Mong are a bridge between these two groups. The upcoming campaign will test its strength but hopefully it will be enough to keep us together to complete our mission.”

  “I hope you are correct in your analysis,” murmured Pilgrim not entirely convinced.

  “Me too. Let’s go see what they are up to, shall we?”

  Pilgrim and Breaker hovered quietly over to the informal meeting. Pilgrim immediately sensed the close-up scrutiny of Baloris. It was almost as if it was sizing Pilgrim up for some strange purpose known only to Baloris. This is unwarranted. I don’t stand out like I used to do before I mastered controlling my form walls, thought Pilgrim. Something odd was going on. Pilgrim was about to confront the lurking Baloris when Vinks noticed that Breaker and Pilgrim had joined the discussion. “Ah, Commander Breaker, Pilgrim.
Just who we need. Voor here has quite the story to tell. There are explanations for some of our good luck. Master Voor: if you please.”

  Voor’s lead pilgrim hovered forward to introduce itself. “Ah this is Pilgrim. It has been a long time since we met on the Pilgrim’s Road and I freed you from the residual effects of your imprisonment. You most likely do not remember much of it.”

  “I remember only infinite and boundless pain,” replied Pilgrim trying not to visibly shudder as the memories, emerging from some secret hiding place, tried to overwhelm its transom. “But I thank you Pilgrim Voor for your gift. My comrades made it clear that you paid a steep price to heal me.”

  “By no means, Pilgrim. It was trivial although I like to put on a good show. I am Djenirian. Zuur, my intemperate, joined but not joined with me soul piece, has told me of your deeds and bravery. Our meeting on the Pilgrim’s Road was fortuitous. We have set in motion the forces that will sever once and for all the enemy’s last foothold in this realm.”

  Zuur’s familiar if somewhat grating laughter pierced the nearby ether. Pilgrim turned to locate Little Boss, who along with Big Boss was mingled into the cluster of Voor’s Pilgrims: an odd collection of hovering ovoids enjoying some type of tense reunion: the node’s resident Djenirian colony. The only Djenirian colony in all the nodes, thought Pilgrim amused. Pilgrim asked Little Boss: “What’s so funny?”

  “My fellow part of the one-thought, Voor here, is ever the optimist. It has always been such. It could desperately use some of my cynicism but alas the sundering did not see fit to allocate such patterns to it.”

  “Please, dear Zuur, we must stay positive. Can you not feel the forces at work now thrumming powerfully through us, and through the ether? The Ancients have provided for us yet again. They will shield us on our march to Instrumentality. We have the chance to—”

  Stinky raised a small guide tendril and sought to forestall the launching of yet another of Voor’s motivational speeches. “Master Voor, you have the right of it. General Vinks here, has given the orders for us to advance on Urta’s Rest at once. We must work out some command arrangements first though.”