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Entropy's Heralds: Pilgrims Path Book 3

Page 33

by Vic Davis


  “Well done! Pilgrim,” greeted Breaker. “There is a large force forming up in that plaza, maybe a hundred so far. Close the gates if you can.”

  Pilgrim hurried back into the gate house, tried to push the lever back but it would not budge. The second lever however gave way to some modest effort: a click, a surge of life in the mechanism. The second lever joined its partner in alignment once again. Pilgrim exited to find the gates swinging shut.

  “What’s the situation on this side?” asked Breaker as it scanned the immediate area with growing displeasure: enemy troops were now exiting one side of the complex of buildings that flanked the long sloping ramp up to the hexagonal building on the mount. Humble and its Omega were already engaged with some of the nearest troops, lunging into a small group then retreating quickly. “Not good I see.”

  “We need to get to the chamber with the prison. Xodd! How far?” bellowed Stinky.

  “Not far. The building up above, through the antechamber into the chamber of the Endarchs then down below. We must be quick. The personal guard of the Endarchs is housed here, five hundred at least.”

  An alarm now sounded in the ether: a pulsing beat as if a giant gong were being struck. The entire group reflexively looked around as if its source might somehow be discerned. “That would be the citadel’s alarm: intruders, a call to arms,” announced Xodd. “We must hurry now, or we will be overwhelmed.”

  The group made it halfway up the ramp to the antechamber before they were confronted on their left flank. The general alarm had now roused the entire garrison: soldiers poured out of one side, curious administrators the other.

  Tencius sprang into action with its remaining Hegemon Commandos. “For the Hegemon!” They fought back the first wave in a brutal exchange of short lances, thrusting and retreating as a rear guard. More enemy soldiers arrived on the scene, once again trying to cut off and surround the assault group as they hurried up the ramp toward the large doors of the building’s antechamber. This time Zuur hovered forward to confront the threat followed by Block and a few of the survivors from Xodd’s company. Even Pipper advanced unarmed but desperate to help its friends.

  Slowly they fought their way up the ramp to the large ornate doors of the antechamber. Comrades began to fall, surrounded, or grappled by a seemingly endless tide of the enemy. The Hegemon Commandos gave ground grudgingly disappearing eventually with Tencius in a sea of enemy. Their sacrifice bought precious time though. Humble mounted on its Omega raged like a berserk monster to clear a path; with a final surge they made it to the mount of the citadel where the Chamber of the Endarchs awaited.

  The doors were barred. Pilgrim could sense the opportunity for its revenge slipping away. It turned to make a charge back down the ramp into the enemy ranks, but a firm tendril latched around one of the plates on its battle form. “No! We must go on!” signaled Xodd grimly. It hovered there beckoning toward the antechamber.

  “You have to go!” shouted Stinky over the din of battle. “We will hold them here. No arguing. Go!”

  “And this one will help you,” signaled Breaker pushing Grivil with a firm shove of a tendril toward Pilgrim.

  “Where are Steadfast and Lacks?” signaled Pilgrim desperately seeking the sight of their familiar ovoid forms.

  “I don’t know,” replied Breaker. “We must have lost them on the climb. They were with Bleaks and Tencius. Zuur was to guard them. They are probably trapped down below with them.”

  “Hurry, they are surging forward. Our line will not hold,” pleaded Stinky. There was a cacophony of source-charge detonations nearby: a truly impressive concentration of destruction that left a large crater where many of the enemy had congregated. The shockwaves buffeted Pilgrim causing a mild ringing sensation in its core. The damage to their own comrades had been slight but a large swath of enemy troops had simple vanished, decohered en masse.

  “That crazy old geezer just blew itself up!” noted Xodd admiringly. “I didn’t think it had such courage.”

  They watched while Mong, now provided with the tools to work its Talent effectively, sprang into action. The flow rubble from the crater rose into the ether and hurled itself at the enemy formations. Dozens were mowed down or grievously wounded in the swarm of enemy soldiers.

  Xodd marveled at the strange Talent’s martial work. A sudden panicked thought occurred. Xodd signaled with a tone of controlled concern, “Where is Groz?”

  “Over there!” replied Breaker pointing to the rear of the enemy formations pressing up the ramp to pin them in. There Groz work its Telzra arts appearing and disappearing, sending off clones, stabbing viciously with its high energy tendrils: a master assassin working its terror alone.

  Malador nearby took notice. It aimed its grenado launcher and fired a bolt on an arc to support Groz’s efforts. Together with Mong they helped distract the enemy from focusing on their friend. But the assistance would not provide comfort for long.

  “You must go now. Gate into the chamber with the prison orb. Destroy it before the last seal is broken,” pleaded Stinky, its battle form walls shaking violently with urgency. “We will hold them here as long as we can. I will see Mistress in the next life, God willing.”

  Words failed; Pilgrim signaled nothing, giving its friend one last look. Breaker had already turned and gone to weigh into the frenzied melee now being waged below. Soon they would all be overrun.

  Pilgrim gestured to Grivil, who looked a strange combination of terrified and fascinated. It no doubt was wondering: how had it all come to this? Pilgrim began the gate calculations; Grivil reluctantly joined in. The work began in earnest. The singleton master was an artist admitted Pilgrim to itself. It passed the energy back with an ease the belayed its present distracted and emotionally disheveled state. The field of the ether, cleansed and ordered by the recent storm, responded immediately: a gate folded into existence between them.

  The placement of the exit point now confronted them: a difficult matter that should have been more carefully considered. Pilgrim could not picture the landing position in its core; The orb supposedly was deposited in a chamber called the holy of holies; Pilgrim had never been there, nor could it get a good sense for where exactly it was located in the nearby hexagonal building: over there but how far? How deep? With what dimensions?

  “You must designate a location,” signaled Grivil growing concerned.

  “I don’t know where it is,” replied Pilgrim with a tone that belayed its growing sense of panic and frustration.

  “No matter, it is a risk but perhaps you will be lucky.”

  “Perhaps, but it is too much. However, the other side of this door is near at hand. There we will go. You will come with me, in case I must gate again. I will need your energy.”

  “How exactly will I hold the gate and traverse it?” croaked Grivil. “Although I am not indisposed to the idea as our end is certainly near.” Grivil motioned with a free tendril to the overwhelming enemy now closing in on three sides.

  “You can go first. I will manage the tricky part.”

  A pair of Council soldiers suddenly broke through their crumbling line; a war club swung in a wide arc felling both. Xodd hovered closer, concerned at the relentless approach of the enemy, whose numbers seemed only to increase as they continued to emerge from their rows of barracks. “What is the matter? You must go or perish. I will be able to purchase you little if any more time here once we are broken.”

  “I don’t know where to place the gate. I’ve never been here before, never seen the prison orb,” shouted Pilgrim.

  Xodd seemed to shudder. “I have. My parasite will convey the information.” Xodd extended a tendril to touch Pilgrim’s battle form; With a jolt a packet of information was somehow transmitted.

  Pilgrim did the recursions, placed the exit point; a flash of infotons announced its stabilization. “Done! I will hold the portal. Grivil, you must go—” A lance pierced the singleton master’s core from behind; two more followed as Council inerts swarmed the gate
in a determined effort to stop anyone from translating.

  Too late. Pilgrim passed through and was instantly transported into a large spherical chamber; hovering in the center of the room was a glowing orb. The ether pulsated with a mesmerizing pattern of informational signals: a hypnotic action that immediately evoked a soothing placidity in Pilgrim’s transom. Pilgrim began to wonder why it was there. A hard jostling from behind broke the onset of the dangerous trance-like spell; Xodd had somehow followed through the portal to bump into Pilgrim. The gate sputtered and disappeared.

  “Why are you here?” was all Pilgrim could think to signal. “What has happened to the others?”

  “They are lost,” signaled Xodd. “At my parasites urging, I ‘decided’ to avoid a glorious end and accompany you through the gate. Urging is perhaps not an apt description: my will was not completely my own. I had decided to exit this existence in battle with a club in my grip, but this abomination dominated me; against my will I hovered into the portal. I must admit though that I am not entirely displeased. I will witness my revenge consummated from a most advantageous position it would seem.”

  The orb seemed to somehow appreciate the danger it was in; cracks now emerged all around its surface. Pilgrim thought to glimpse the movement of tentacles, a grotesque countenance with gleaming eyes. The entities writhing within struggled against the last dissolving vestiges of the third seal. They must be on the brink of release, thought Pilgrim.

  An intellect from deep within Pilgrim now took control; it signaled using Pilgrim’s own facilities in a mirthful, pleased with itself tone, “They will be very unhappy to discover the final failsafe, brother.”

  The Librarian now took partial control of its host. Xodd struggled appalled at the invasion of its sense of self. The Librarian fragment of Radzak formed a guide tendril from Xodd’s battle form and made an odd motion with it in the ether: a once familiar idiosyncrasy that conveyed the message: “Yes, yes, you are most correct, let us move on.” The Librarian now signaled through Xodd, “Time is still of the essence, brother. It will not deter them for long. We should thank our friends here and do what must be done.”

  “You were ever the practical one Radzak, my friend. You will be pleased to know your little unapproved modifications to the plan, were actually quite positive for us. Although, progress has apparently been slow with plenty of regressions or, so I have been told.”

  “I wish I could savor that admission more. This fragment of me is about to end its processing once and for all.”

  “Rest easy my friend. And thank you Pilgrim and Xodd. This outcome was not determinative. It is one of the best possible in the many simulations that I ran. It is sufficient to safeguard the plan and you have both been instrumental in its orchestration. Sadly, the solution that you have achieved will preclude your survival in your present forms.”

  “They both realize this I’m sure Odnir. Execute the program!”

  “Yes, of course. Begin computations. Farewell.”

  The deed was done; there would be no going back. Entropy’s Heralds had been unleashed. Pilgrim shuddered; a small glowing multifaceted crystal painlessly exited its form walls and hovered toward the prison, then detonated.

  Xodd, released from its gentle domination, emitted a final angry rebellious roar. Upon feeling the weapon pass across its form walls, Pilgrim had desperately, instinctively sped up the processing of its core to extend its own experience of existence for a small finite duration of perceived time. The pocket universe, the chamber, stood still from Pilgrim’s point of view. Hovering above its core it looked down on its battle form: a seed of nascent destruction now blossomed next to its own seat of consciousness.

  The orb hovered there fractured and cracked: its prisoners confident in their escape, jubilant and determined to extract their own revenge, perplexed it was taking so long. Xodd hovered nearby its club raised high, arcs of Tesla like energy soaring into the ether and into the prison orb in a gesture of defiance. Pilgrim looked closer at the prodigal son returned home; a presence abided within those fierce battle form walls: a portion of a mighty intellect, a phantom fragment of Radzak the Trembler, Odnir’s friend and co-conspirator. Despite the apparent frozen state of everything surrounding Pilgrim, there was a locking of gazes between their transoms: a wry ironic smile emerged from somewhere deep inside Xodd’s hardened battle form walls. Pilgrim understood.

  Time was up; the inevitable could be delayed no longer. This sense of satisfaction could not endure forever. Pilgrim sighed internally. So be it. Perhaps something of me will abide somewhere within Etheria’s polytope. I have done my part.

  A soft whisper, almost indecipherable crossed Pilgrim’s transom. Impossible, thought pilgrim. There occurred one last, desperate idea as the entropic weapon exploded to consume everything: a suggestion for a different way of looking at things. Odnir’s program worked flawlessly: an engineered mini desolation of disorder unmade everything in Instrumentality.

 

 

 


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