by Vic Davis
“That works just as well,” signaled Breaker betraying a lingering sense of doubt. “But we will keep a watch up on these rear wagons, and I want you to try to scan for the thing every once in a while. We must not become complacent.”
“A wise attitude, and a commendable display of caution,” replied Grivil. “I will need to conserve myself then. Pushing those bars would be taxing and distracting as well. Might I suggest that I ride in one of the forward wagons. That would be the best way for me to ensure that I am fresh and rested.”
Xodd laughed sardonically. “I have a better idea. We shall play you out on a line and see if the Omega devours you. Thus, we will know definitively whether it is still trailing us. Such a tactic would conserve your energies equally as well.”
Grivil was less than enthusiastic at the proposition and returned to the front of the storm rider vehicle assuming a vacated spot on one of the push bars. Breaker continued to scan the swirling wall of the storm that abutted the bubble at the back of the trailing wagons. The reinforced lances bristled with a menacing threat to anyone or anything that might attempt to surmount them; the effect was not entirely reassuring, and Breaker looked less than confident that it would do much to dissuade a determined Omega from ravaging their fragile conveyance and only means of protection from the violence of the storm.
Pilgrim and Breaker hovered close together. “It’s probably still there,” signaled Pilgrim quietly. “Murphy’s Law and all.”
“Yes, I think you are correct,” replied Breaker with a grim smile. “How long will it wait? If it thinks this is a typical storm, it might expect it to lift rather soon. What will it do when it does not, and we approach Instrumentality?”
“If an Alpha has been fused into the Omega, then it should figure things out rather quickly. At some point the uncertainty of what it faces here will be overwhelmed by the fact that we threaten Instrumentality.”
Breaker seemed doubtful. “Do we really threaten a city state protected by ten thousand Praetorian Guards? I wonder how worried it will be. With some more luck, it will think us harmless and desperate or simply suicidal inconveniences, long enough to let us reach our objective. Once we arrive at the main gate, things will change quickly. It will reevaluate its assumptions.”
“How much farther then?”
“Xodd said two cycles at a standard march. We must be nearly there.”
They arrived at the outskirts of Instrumentality a mere quarter cycle later. The storm had reached its zenith and now was diminishing at an alarming rate. As they approached the main gate, the outlines of source-farming hovels and small administrative and storage buildings began to materialize on either side: a minor settlement of significant size just outside the main entrance; luckily, there were no signs of any council troops or peasants venturing outside yet.
They reached the gate and avoided a collusion; the storm was ebbing quickly sputtering to a conclusion: the ether becoming ever more transparent. Pilgrim and Breaker hurried up and on top of the forward wagon. Breaker turned to Humble and gave an order. “Take Pilgrim up and over that gate, dispatch any guards and open the mechanism.”
Pilgrim hovered across the gap and onto the crown of the Omega to join Humble extending two tendrils awkwardly trying to latch on to its friend. “Hang on! Up we go,” announced Humble suddenly; the Omega unfolded its long powerful tentacles, raised them up high to find purchase on the flow of the main gate fortifications, then climbed quickly to the top of what was a protected enclosure for firing down on attackers.
The descent was just as quick and abrupt. Pilgrim dismounted and shivered across its form walls: the ether was viscous and abrasive. Everything felt slow and even thinking felt unusually taxing. What would happen if you endured the entire storm unprotected? wondered Pilgrim. Thoughts began to drift uncontrollably.
Humble seemed unaffected on top of its massive mount. Its Mesmer Talent provided a protective bulwark against the mental fogging of the storm. Clearing its transom Pilgrim redoubled its efforts to concentrate on the mission: the opening of the gate. It examined the locking mechanism on the back of the large armored double doors: a pair of simple thick flow bars withdrawn by machinery in the interior of one of the rooms extending off to either side via closed entries.
There was no time to waste, decided Pilgrim. It formed a thick high energy tendril and set to work cutting through both bars exactly where the doors should part. The flow materials were dense and initially resisted the cutting, but a surge of energy from Pilgrim’s information core accomplished the work. “Done!”
Pilgrim tried to pull on one of the doors, but it would not budge. A second more intense effort yielded similar disappointing results. “Humble! Would you mind doing the honors? It’s stuck somehow.”
“Hover back if you don’t mind,” signaled Humble with a grin. “We will have those doors open in no time.”
The Omega unfurled its large tentacles to find a purchase point, but no easy spot presented itself. It tried to grip one of the bars that had formed the locking mechanism, but they were rectangular and smooth, offering no ideal way to place a secure grip. “Pilgrim, we might need some help. We need a way to latch on to it.”
“Hmm. Okay. I’ll try to make a hole,” replied Pilgrim hovering back to the gate. It energized one of its tendrils and plunged it slowly into the surface of the gate. The flow slowly gave way dissipating into tiny droplets wafting onto the ether or running down in small rivulets. The flow material was tough, thought Pilgrim, very tough.
It took an agonizingly inordinate amount of time, but a hole big enough for the Omega’s tentacle was finally formed. Pilgrim hovered away once again and let Humble do its job. The Omega inserted the tip of its corded appendage into the newly created orifice and pulled. Nothing happened. “No. There must be another locking mechanism,” shouted Humble from its perch up on the Omega.
Pilgrim examined the frame of the massive gateway once again trying not to become alarmed by the steady clearing of the ether as the storm abated; time was running out. There were two irregularities up high on the top beam on either side of the split where the gates opened: a square pattern as if a cube of flow material had been cut out and replaced with something else. Locking mechanisms? There was only one way to find out. Pilgrim powered up into battle form and focused all its energy into a mighty Fibonacci lash. It traveled up and into the area between both suspicious locations. Flow splintered and a huge gouge was created revealing pinions locking the top of the gate firmly in place.
“Ugh. I should have just opened one of the doors and tried to operate the mechanisms within,” lamented Pilgrim.
Humble laughed. “You would probably have needed an instruction manual.”
“No doubt. Lift me up, I’ll cut them both,” ordered Pilgrim almost at the point of complete exasperation. “We are running out of time!”
Humble’s Omega suddenly enclosed a tentacle around Pilgrim; the feeling brought back an odd sense of déjà vu. Soon the mechanisms were on an equal level and Pilgrim wasted no time. A high energy tendril cut across one, then the other. Whoever had designed the gate had used a different type of flow for the locking pinions than that used for the external bars. They were parted with much less effort.
Pilgrim was placed down, and the Omega tried once again. This time the door came off with a creaking pop and was flung aside; the second followed nearly striking Pilgrim.
Humble shouted down from the top of the Omega. “Sorry, the hinges weren’t very strong it would seem.”
Pilgrim was about to reply with a humorous jibe when it beheld the front two wagons of the storm rider; the ether had now cleared sufficiently to reveal some type of commotion at the rear two wagons. There was a battle in progress: long lances thrusting forward, tentacles flailing; an ovoid form hoisted into the ether, then flung out into the storm. The Council Omega had decided that it could wait no longer.
Pilgrim ordered Humble to hold the gate, then hurried back to join the fray; the scene w
ithin the null space in the center of the vehicle was a chaotic jumble. Some of the Hegemon Commandos had risked exiting the side of the vehicle to brave the storm and were clustered on both flanks of the rear wagons; one of the wagons, with its protective lances flattened in a large swath, had been crushed, as if a large hammer had come down squarely upon its bed. Four wheels lay useless on the ground broken from their axels.
Xodd had mounted the other wagon and now swung its war club at some unseen phantoms that made occasional forays from the cover of the storm. Pilgrim could feel the power bleeding from the turmoil in the ether; indeed, the outline of the Council Omega crisscrossing the road in some mad dance, became clearer by the moment.
Breaker hovered slightly behind Xodd still on the road, hefting a long lance in an effort to offer some protection. If the fate of the disabled wagon were anything to judge by, there would be little to stop the Omega if it decided to crush this one as well.
“The storm is breaking. We need to get to the citadel now!” shouted Pilgrim with a tone of desperation.
Breaker turned to focus on the source of the signal pleased to see Pilgrim and the open gate. “We will hold the beast here. Take everyone else, go straight up the main avenue to a large plaza. There you will find a gate to the citadel. Xodd will guide you! Xodd get down from there!”
Voor’s five pilgrims now bustled forward causing a tangled knot of ovoids packed into an already chaotic crucible. They crowded around Breaker jostling the cluster of Hegemon Commandos that formed its bodyguard. “There is no need for that, Commander Breaker. The Codex and I will hold the creature here. The Alpha within will not profit in a duel with the Codex. You may rest assured: it will not pass.”
Zuur’s now combined form, guarding a flank nearby, let out a bellicose howl of laughter. “I feel that we will be reunited soon, not in the way in which we would prefer, but a measure of peace will be achieved, nonetheless. You should know that I never liked you. You are not what is best in the Djenirian collective.”
Voor’s lead pilgrim seemed to smile on its form walls: a melancholy display of sad affection. It turned to Pilgrim and signaled: “Go, we will hold this gate. Save our future!” Pilgrim reluctantly turned to leave. Breaker, Xodd and the rest of the assault group had already reached the gate leaving Pilgrim to watch the bitter farewell.
Zuur collided gently with Pilgrim ushering it toward the gate. Breaker was motioning desperately for them to follow. The storm was rattling its last death throes in the ether; already Pilgrim could see a great distance down the main way as it rose gently up an incline to the citadel.
The group hovered at a high energy sprint: Humble riding the Omega led the way, followed by a line of Hegemon Commandos; Breaker, Stinky, Pilgrim, Xodd and Malador were close behind; in the middle was a mix of Xodd’s company led by Block, including the Old Alchemist, Grivil and any remaining commandos; Groz and Mong seemed to have disappeared as was their wont; Zuur loitered in the back as a rear guard.
Suddenly there was an all-pervasive disturbance in the ether, as if a drain had been opened somewhere, perhaps everywhere; a strange phase transition took place: the roiling, blistering vortex and blinding chaos vanished in a flash. An eerie stillness now pervaded the ether, as if some grand cleansing had been completed.
Pilgrim now felt naked. They were making the final dash to their objective in plain sight of anyone and everyone who would now venture out of their shelters. How quickly would the multitudes of soldiers protecting this city emerge to notice and then confront them?
Breaker was thinking similar thoughts. “This is going to be tight. That building up there. That’s where we need to go. The tall shimmering hexagonal structure.”
Xodd concurred. “The holy of holies supposedly contains the prison orb. First, we must cross the Plaza of Domination, then take or breach the gate into the citadel. Once inside I will lead you. There is a long climb up a graded ramp flanked on both sides by a line of barracks and administrative offices. It will be well defended.”
Pilgrim kept a steady focus on the hexagonal building as they advanced. Something was wrong. Something seemed out of place, but Pilgrim could not put a tendril on it. There was an ominous presence disrupting and distorting the ether: the three powerful entities within their prison orb no doubt. Pilgrim could feel it as soon as the storm had completely dissipated. But there was something else odd about the citadel. Something was missing. Suddenly it was clear: there was no barrier up. Had the storm somehow disrupted and removed it? Had there been no barrier in Urta’s Rest either and they had simply not paid attention?
Pilgrim’s reverie was interrupted by an exclamation from Xodd. “The Plaza of Domination!”
The plaza opened up suddenly in front of them. It was nearly deserted; only a trickle of the city’s denizens had left their homes or quarters to explore the aftermath of the storm. They located the gate to the citadel on the far side and made a beeline for it. As they crossed the open space, they drew the attention of those now mulling around; pointed tendrils, cries of surprise, and a reverberating alarm in the ether were all signs that their long run of luck had finally ended.
Council inert soldiers seemed to pour out of every entrance and doorway that emptied into the plaza. The only saving grace was their disorganization and lack of leadership. A general state of confusion caused them to first attempt to form up into groups rather than identify and pursue the intruders immediately. The party used this brief respite to reach the main gate into the citadel.
“We need to blow this gate now!” ordered Breaker. “Who has the source-charges?”
A commando hovered forward carrying a satchel with two canisters. “This is all we could get from the front wagons in time, sir.”
“I’m not sure we even have that much time commander,” signaled Stinky. “Look! Here they come.”
“Form a defensive line!” ordered Breaker. The Hegemon Commandos hovered toward the threat and lined up in close order with shield and short lance at the ready. Xodd took up a position just behind them with the remainder of its company. Malador cradled its unusual grenado launcher in its tendrils assisted by the Old Alchemist once again wearing a vest with all the grenados that remained. Pilgrim could not restrain a smile at the odd sense of déjà vu that once again manifested itself.
The enemy now appeared up on the battlements above the gate as well: scurrying shapes peering out through the fusiliers’ slits but not in significant numbers. “We have company up above,” announced Humble. “Shall I go up there and clear them out?”
“I’ll go with you,” signaled Pilgrim. “We can’t blow this gate huddled all next to it. Let’s open it from the other side again. This time more efficiently.”
“You had better hurry,” signaled Stinky. “They just brought forward some fusiliers.”
The enemy had not yet charged at the vastly outnumbered assault group huddling in the lee of the gate. The sight of Humble mounted on the Omega must have given them cause for concern. Pilgrim hovered up an extended tentacle finding a perch next to Humble. The distance up the wall was not far: a stretch of one of the long powerful limbs, a hoist over the crenellations, and a landing. On top Pilgrim discovered a semi-open platform and two connecting walkways. A half dozen Council inerts of a kind Pilgrim had not seen before were readying a release of grenados: large ovoid shapes boasting an energetic vigor, possessing imposing martial battle forms. Down below on the inside of the gate at least two platoons of these brutes were forming up.
“Go down the wall a bit and get behind them! I’ll clear the platform.” Without waiting for a response from Humble, Pilgrim charged along the walkway straight into the nearest group taking them completely by surprise; two were knocked off to fall slowly down into the mass of their assembling comrades below. High energy tendrils darted in and out of two more enemy battle forms forcing them to drop two grenados that had been mere moments away from activation. Both inerts were pierced through their cores and began to decohere. The remaining two
drew their short lances but were unprepared for the horizontal flick of the Fibonacci lash the rolled out to meet them; sundered in half they rolled over the side to join their fellows.
Pilgrim hefted both dropped grenados and, forming two more guide tendrils, pulled on the fuses. With a snapping action it flung them both down into the crowd below. As Pilgrim started back for the spot where Humble had deposited it on the gate wall, it now noticed that the Council troops below were still milling about in some state of confusion. They had observed Humble’s Omega traverse the parapet a short distance to drop down onto the courtyard below. They were intently focused on forming up a battle line to confront the new threat, disregarding or perhaps discounting the demise of their comrades in the semi-enclosure above.
The grenados detonated with good effect: battle forms buckled, information cores shattered, ovoid shapes simply dissolved. Pilgrim had been close but shook off the destructive vibrations from the shockwave in the ether; its solid battle form had absorbed or channeled most of the energy; its aura quickly repaired any minor damage. Pilgrim dropped down to the surface below, falling slowly to touch down gently among the shredded, decohering remains.
The gate was similar if not identical to the one at the city’s outer walls. The large double doors were unharmed by the grenados but a nearby door had been blown ajar. Pilgrim hovered across its threshold to find a way to open the gate. Inside was a large mechanism made of a complex combination of flow parts: gears, levers, pulleys. Pilgrim immediately wished it had brought Stinky up and over the wall as well. Just as that thought crossed its transom, a tremendous volley of charge lances erupted on the other side of the gate. Pilgrim felt the ping of the deflections from Stinky’s shield in the ether. Time was running out.
There were two obvious levers to pull. Pilgrim formed a tendril, then another on second thought and wrapped them both around one of the levers; a hard pull met serious resistance; it budged just a little. A second stronger pull elicited a result: a click followed by the rapid movement of dozens of wheels and gears. Pilgrim fled the room to discover the gates swinging inwardly open and its comrades hovering inside quickly under the cover of Stinky’s protective shield: a half circle of impermeable, mesmerizing distortions in the fabric of the ether.
