Entropy's Heralds: Pilgrims Path Book 3

by Vic Davis

  Pilgrim felt the pressure of every transom in the room. Trying not to stutter, it signaled, “Uh, not very long, general. Perhaps a sixteenth of a cycle. We should probably start heading over to the vertex barrier soon.”

  “Excellent,” replied Vinks. “Master Sergeant Bleaks is working with what is left of our engineers to clear a way across the defensive pit to bring the storm rider wagons safely into the compound. Then I suppose we must assemble them outside the main gate, what is left of it, and wait to see you on your way.”

  “That is the plan, general,” signaled Breaker. “but I’m worried about those Omegas. We are risking a lot if they hound us through the storm.”

  “Is that possible?” asked Vinks. “We are operating under the assumption, are we not, that the storm is too strong for any source being to navigate effectively without protection or mitigation.”

  “Just so,” signaled Breaker. “But there is a famous expression about assumptions. It worries me.”

  Stinky waved a dismissive guide tendril. “Our options are limited even if we want to do something about the Omegas right now. We could move out in force to hunt them, try to pin them somehow and engage them but I doubt they would sit still. They would evade and then use hit and run tactics to pick off any isolated units. We would be chasing phantoms. And the storm would then come and catch us out in the open.”

  Breaker sighed. “No doubt you are right. We must take the chance that they cannot operate effectively in the storm.”

  “They didn’t seem to do so back at Urta’s Rest, at least as far as we could tell,” offered Pilgrim. “We only saw them after the storm broke when everyone came out. This storm should surely eclipse the other one in magnitude.”

  Breaker was about to offer a worst-case scenario when the door to the room flew opened; Grivil hovered through the opening with a sheepish expression on its form walls followed by a prodding Tencius.

  “I found our Channeler in a deserted room attached to a barracks. Evidently it can sense where contraband is stored, and it found a nice little stash. It was arguing with two of the logistics soldiers assigned to salvage: our former key holder miscreants. They were up to no good. I gave them to the quartermaster’s guard for punishment. Odd, contentious fellows.”

  Grivil hovered forward with a shove from Tencius. “I’m innocent. The victim of a confidence trick I assure you.”

  “Ah, Singleton Master Grivil! How nice of you to join us,” effused Vinks facetiously.

  Grivil sulked making no reply. Vinks seemed to briefly consider publicly punishing the former chief of the Hegemon’s Channeler cadres. Pilgrim was thinking along similar lines, but it was obvious that Grivil now lacked any sense of public shame. If they could get one good gate out of it when they reached Instrumentality, that would be a success.

  Vinks sought to bring the meeting to an end. “While we are waiting, we will put the time to good use. We must make sure there is a clear path for the storm rider wagons to be moved outside the front gate. We will form a protective perimeter there so that they may be assembled. The question then remains: when will you depart? If the storm is not in full force, will you risk the Omegas? What path do you propose?”

  Breaker winced at the prospect of making that decision. “We confront a dilemma general. If we leave before the storm without sufficient forces to protect the wagons, we will be ruined. If we wait and do not reach the citadel inside Instrumentality before the storm abates, then we will most likely be spotted and overwhelmed by the city garrison. We could try to bluff our way in with Codex, but I doubt even it could influence the numbers required. We would be in a tight spot.

  “In either event, we will need to travel via the roads: first back down to the slip point, then down the Pilgrim’s Road to Instrumentality. In doing so we have added some extra time to the journey, and we can only hope the storm will be strong enough to cover us.”

  “Then what do you propose?” signaled Vinks somewhat impatiently.

  “I am of a mind to wait, then leave as soon as the storm has started. But I’m willing to listen to other opinions.”

  There were none. Xodd shifted uneasily as if it agreed but would rather be giving the orders itself. The entire group gathered around it, save for perhaps Groz and Mong, seemed uneasy and skeptical now that the moment of full commitment was upon them. Once they departed in the storm rider vehicle, they would either reach Instrumentality or perish in the storm. Both outcomes were worrisome predicaments.

  “So be it!” concluded Vinks. The meeting was adjourned, and the preparations made in short order. Lacks and Steadfast were right on schedule; an excitation formed at the resonance point allowing them to easily push the four wagons through the opening. The waiting crews received them, then guided them down the hastily constructed ramps of flow rubble without incident.

  Outside the main gate to the compound, the storm rider vehicle was assembled slightly straddling the road. Its design had allowed for a narrow frontage in the form of an elongated rectangle. Xodd had assured them that the terrain along the final leg of the Pilgrim’s Road was mostly flat and clear of serious obstacles but it was deemed unwise to spread the shape out too far. If one of the wagons were to be immobilized, the neutralization of the storm within the confines of the four wagons would be compromised.

  The scouts were pulled back and no further riders went missing. The Omegas were no doubt still lurking out there somewhere. Pilgrim wondered what they were planning. The ether was growing ever more oppressive with each passing moment. This storm would be massive judging by the increasing viscosity of the ether. Would this prompt some desperate response or attack by the Omegas? Could they have a clue as to what their opponents were up to? Had they sent back for reinforcements that would now be caught by the storm on the road? There were too many variables to ponder now.

  Vinks waited with them at the assembly area until the very last moment. The storm seemed to teeter on the edge of manifestation for a while then came on like an avalanche.

  “By the Ancients, this is a storm like no other,” announced Vinks from within the peaceful confines of the storm rider vehicle. I am pleased to see that your theories for the construction of this contraption were proven correct.”

  Breaker looked outside the confines of their island of calm and pointed with a tendril with a motion that verged on the insubordinate. “General, you should go now. Otherwise, you won’t be able to find the gate or shelter pretty soon.”

  Vinks smiled. “It’s been a pleasure fighting with you Commander Breaker, with all of you. May the Ancients bless you and smooth your way. I hope we meet again. Good luck and good hunting.”

  Chapter 22

  We Few

  “It’s there,” signaled Pilgrim crossing back into the safety of the oasis of tranquility formed by the storm rider’s interior space. Pilgrim’s form walls still stung. “At least one of them, following us not far behind, staying on the road.”

  “How can you tell with this storm?” asked Breaker. “We can’t see more than a short lance outside this little bubble.”

  “I just can,” answered Pilgrim. “I can slow things down and then map out my surroundings. The storm masks it well but it’s there. It’s close too. I would assume it knows we are here and moving down the road ahead of it.”

  “The adjutant is correct,” chimed in Grivil hovering nearby. “Just as I warned you. It’s very faint but the concentration of information in its core is potent, scarily powerful even. It would seem that this dead space does not dampen everything. I suppose we should be grateful it keeps the storm out.”

  Grivil had not yet had a turn pushing on one of the bars to move the wagons forward down the road. The luxury had allowed Grivil the freedom to concentrate, which had been fortuitous: it had sensed something lurking nearby. At the last moment, Breaker had reconsidered and ordered a modification to the storm rider vehicle: the addition of draft creatures. It was an idea that had been previously discarded but Breaker was certain that t
hey needed to make up some time.

  Stinky and Malador had quickly overseen the placement of a large harness bar on the front two wagons to allow Drothgar to be used to push them forward. The two source beasts now stolidly did their work packed into the bubble with the rest of the assault group.

  “Why hasn’t it attacked then?” wondered Pilgrim out loud. “What is it waiting for?”

  Xodd could not suppress a chuckle. “You don’t need your master strategist to know the answer. Is it not simple? It’s unsure of what strength we possess. It will attempt to wait until the storm clears. Then it will assess its chances and act.”

  “And if the storm does not clear?” asked Pilgrim.

  Xodd grinned. “It will no doubt be forced to make a decision the closer we get to Instrumentality. I would assume the Alpha that has been integrated into the Omega possesses a reasonable amount of intelligence. At some point it will decide that it must attack regardless of what it will encounter here inside this bubble. Or perhaps it will decide that it can no longer endure the storm. Either way it will come for us.”

  “Xodd is correct, I fear,” signaled Breaker. “We must be prepared. Our best fighters will not be able to use their talents. We need something else, something more conventional.”

  “Or Groz and I could leave the bubble using the road as a guide. Maybe we could ambush it as it followed us,” offered Pilgrim.

  Stinky did not like that plan in the least. It wagged a concerned guide tendril. “That’s an idea with some merit but also great risk. You carry the weapon that we need to use at the end of our journey. If you are separated from the road and lost, the mission fails.”

  “Not to mention the fact that it also fails if the monster devours you,” snickered Zuur’s Little Boss nearby.

  The humor was lost on Voor; it was gravely concerned. “Zuur is correct. Others should go if this is to be done.”

  Block gave a disgruntled glance toward the forward wagons where Humble and its Omega friend hovered. A quick whispering signal to Xodd conveyed its complaint. Xodd seemed amused and conveyed the idea to the group. “We could send our own Omega out to wrestle with it; at the very least they might wander off the road and get lost in the storm; then who knows what could happen?’”

  “Sending source beings out of the bubble should be a last resort,” lectured Breaker. “We are going to need Humble and its friend when we reach the main gate. Besides, I had some other things in mind.”

  “Such as?” asked Xodd.

  “We know the direction from which the beast will attack. It will not leave the road while the storm is raging. It will advance upon those two wagons. If we are lucky, it will not use its tentacles to fling them aside. In that case it will simply come up and over the wagons. This suggests a tactic we might adopt.”

  “We need long lances, reinforced,” announced Xodd as if an epiphany had struck it.

  “Yes, precisely so,” confirmed Breaker.

  “Malador!” signaled Xodd with a booming amplitude that startled the diminutive lieutenant. “Make yourself useful and figure something out. There must be some way to construct a weapon with some reach. We need something to impale or pin this creature.”

  Malador raised a guide tendril to scratch the crown of its ovoid form: a mannerism that it had recently and unknowingly acquired while working with Stinky on the storm rider vehicle. “We already have a modest supply of infantry lances. I suppose we could come up with something. Perhaps the Hegemon’s engineer could help me explore some ideas. We must first conduct an audit on what resources we have available then—”

  “Yes, that’s very interesting Malador,” interrupted Xodd. “Just get to it!”

  Malador’s enthusiastically hovered over to confer with Stinky and exchange ideas.

  “You are going to want something a little more aggressive,” signaled Pilgrim. “I’ve learned that the hard way playing against you. You always have at least one hammer for every anvil in your plan.”

  “I do have an idea. It’s a long shot though. We should leave Malador to work on the lances. Where is that Old Alchemist?”

  “Over here,” came a reply from an ovoid pushing on a nearby bar alongside Block and Pipper.

  The Old Alchemist was replaced on the bar and a plan was formulated. Breaker had stipulated the main requirement: a way to string several of their few remaining grenados or source-charge canisters together so that they could be laid out along the road; a way was needed to then detect and detonate them when the Omega hybrid hovered over them. The second task had been deemed impossible even with a laboratory and a hundred cycles to devise such a trigger mechanism. But a string of explosives with a delayed fuse was easily manufactured with materials on hand. Breaker declared that this would suffice and ordered that the device be assembled but not deployed until the lances were ready. The reasoning being that the Omega might respond aggressively, angered into action, if the attempt failed or it was only wounded by the explosion.

  As they waited for the lances to be assembled, Pilgrim and Grivil tried to determine just how far behind the Omega was. The storm was almost impenetrable. Pilgrim could not make any precise estimates. Grivil seemed more confident: “Perhaps ten or so long lances, maybe more. It surges forward every once in a while, as if to reassure itself that we are still here. The timing will be difficult.”

  “We’ll add some length then, add a few more grenados,” suggested Breaker in a tone that revealed some internal doubt.

  “It’s too close to attempt a void creation with a lash even just using a single grenado,” signaled Pilgrim “And it’s going to take more than one grenado to maim or destroy it; the detonation needs to be concentrated. We would be better off putting them all together and hoping for a direct hit. At least that’s my experience fighting these things.”

  “This is a longshot,” confessed Breaker. “But I feel like we should do something. At the very least the creature will know we are aware of its presence and hopefully be cowed into restraint.”

  “The theory is sound,” signaled Stinky. “I’d prefer to do something rather than nothing as well. Although it might just anger it into action.”

  Breaker decided to stick with the original plan: a string of grenados concentrated in a span a little longer than a short lance. Timing the pull of the fuse and release of the device would be crucial; Stinky did the math based on an estimate of how far behind the Omega normally loitered and their present velocity down the road. The detonation would be close but should not damage the rear wagons.

  The preparations were soon completed; the reinforced long lances, actually groups of two or three lances bundled together, were strapped down on the backs of the trailing wagons arranged at several different angles: a greeting designed to pierce anything that tried to mount them quickly from the rear.

  The Old Alchemist seemed quite pleased with its hasty work. “Nothing fancy about his. Just a belt of one source-charge canister, and four standard grenados, all with the same fuse length and connected to a single pull cord. The length of the fuses is based on the desired timing that General Stinky here has provided. I would still recommend that most of us move to the front of the vehicle just to be sure. I certainly plan to do so.”

  “Of course you do,” laughed Xodd. “I will be at the rear with my club.”

  “Good! Everyone knows their job,” announced Breaker. “Let’s spring our little trap and see what happens.”

  The crew took their positions: nonessentials in the front, the Hegemon Commandos in the middle, the heavy hitters in the back closest to the bristling rear wagons. After some serious pleading Pilgrim finally relented and assumed a position in the middle of the bubble. Stinky had been adamant that explosives were dangerous and should be respected. Pilgrim smiled and placated its friend, knowing that if things went poorly, the safety in the middle was not that much superior to that in the rear.

  Everything was ready; Grivil made another effort to detect the Omega; it followed in its usual position
. They would wait for one of its little surges forward to verify contact, then they would spring the trap. After what seemed an interminable wait, it happened; the creature advanced to close the distance, confirmed its prey’s presence, then decreased speed and settle back into its trailing location. Grivil waited for it to resume its normal place, then announced: “Now, it is there!”

  Breaker gave the order, “Pull the cord, let it go!”

  The fuse was started; the belt was careful lowered to the ground and quickly disappeared out of the bubble and into the swirling opaque darkness of the storm. The entire assault party waited tense with anticipation.

  Pilgrim could detect the Old Alchemist signaling in the lowest of amplitudes: “Four, Three, Two, One.”

  Nothing happened. A jolt of disappointed shook Pilgrim’s transom only to be chased away immediately but the muted disturbance in the ether of what must have been the detonation of the source-charges.

  “That wasn’t very impressive,” signaled Xodd. “I was expecting more.”

  “The storm has dampened it or dampened the shockwave. We did not take the first possibility into account,” signaled the Old Alchemist.

  “I felt the detonation; it was muffled but there,” reported Grivil. Pilgrim was not certain it sensed anything but conceded that Grivil’s perception of the ether was more acute and honed.

  “Did we get it?” asked Breaker.

  Grivil and Pilgrim both attempted to scan the ether outside the bubble where the storm still raged violently; Pilgrim could detect nothing; Grivil drifted back from its position at the front of the vehicle to get closer to the trailing wagons. It resumed hovering forward alongside Breaker. Its form walls displayed a deep state of concentration: an imperturbable dullness that hinted at a strenuous undertaking involving complex inner processing. After an interminable wait while everyone not pushing or pulling the wagon turned their transom upon the singleton master, Grivil reported. “I’m not finding anything. We may have succeeded. I can’t be sure. It is not where it once was. Perhaps we have immobilized it.”