But now, heavy though his body felt, his mind was light, for at his feet lay the object he sought.
A black cube, manufactured from some hard, metallic substance. A device he knew well, having been subjected to its power back in the world of the Orange Witch. Perhaps fate would grant him one more chance to take his revenge on the girl. He looked down at the machine, blinking its steady orange signal. Either his life would ebb away to nothing, or an opportunity to control more power than he could imagine was within his grasp. He snorted at his choice of words. Grasp. Something he could no longer do. When he had reached the device, his first instinct was to lift it in his arms and stow it in a secure place, hidden from view.
But although he was able to perceive its surface by touch, his grip had become so insubstantial, the device was immune to his efforts, no matter how he tried. Now he stood astride it, and forced his anger to abate in order to use his mind. How would he unlock the potential of the device, a treasure so close, yet so out of reach?
He only knew one possibility, and that one was faint. His Master had suffered at the hands of the Orange Witch too, more than just physically. His drive and power had diminished; to almost a mere shadow. But perhaps there was still a buried spark of desire waiting to be fanned. One that would ignite once his Lord knew Valkrog had located the strangers’ device.
Could he reach him from here? He looked again at his ethereal form. He would dedicate whatever reserves remained for this task. Possibly his last.
He reached deep inside, gathered up the last of his energy, and cast out one desperate silent call from his mind.
“Master? My Lord—if it would please you, I have the other world’s device at my feet, but my Lord, it requires your spells to unlock its power. Come quickly, my Lord, I have need of you.”
The last of his energy ebbed away from him, and he fell to his knees and waited, conserving what little life remained while the wind wailed.
~ 43 ~
A Sorcerer's Trick
Andreas raised his hand, and signalled his question to Tomas, who had stopped further up the rocky path. Each of them clung to protruding stones and rocks against the relentless wind. Tomas cupped his hands to his mouth and called back down, his voice almost drowned out by the roaring gale. “There is a more sheltered ravine. we can rest awhile.”
Andreas could only nod, conserving his strength for the remaining climb. He forced his legs to march onward through the wind. Behind him, Makthryg staggered, somehow managing to prevail against the immense air-pressure blasting him. Andreas knew not how the man managed to continue. There was something driving him, of that he had no doubt.
Paolo followed Makthryg, his eyes glued to his adversary. The boy was tired, that much was obvious from his posture, but youth and his stocky stature provided stamina to magnify his loathing and strengthen his determination. Once again, Andreas was glad he had insisted Lucio remain at the township—this trek was an ambitious one for adults, let alone a young boy. But there was another reason: Lucio had an uncanny ability to know the location of his older brother, and Andreas thought it to be a prudent part of their plan to have a means to pinpoint their whereabouts should anyone become lost ... or worse.
Andreas struggled over the rocks and joined Tomas looking into the lee of the next ravine. He leaned in close to his friend. “Have you ever witnessed the likes of this, Tomas?”
The shorter man shook his head.
Andreas first watched Makthryg, then Paolo top the rise and descend to meet them. They were but a few steps away when Makthryg crumpled to his knees, holding his head. Tomas jumped up, but Andreas held his arm. “Careful, my friend. I know you believe he speaks true, but that does not mean he is incapable of a ruse. Let him find his own recovery.”
Paolo had stopped a few paces back from the sorcerer. He stood braced against the wind and surveyed the rocky outcrops.
Moments passed, then Makthryg released his hands from his head, pushed himself to his feet, and stumbled to the two men, seating himself with the help of a steadying hand.
Paolo joined Andreas and Tomas, with one eye on their frail prisoner. “Do you suppose he is play-acting?”
“I think not,” Andreas said.
“Then we might all profit from taking shelter. These outcrops look to have been long eroded, and I would guess several of them harbour caves where we can find some rest from this weather.”
“Perhaps. But first, I would have his report.” He stood and moved next to the slumped man. “Makthryg. What is your condition? What was this thing that took hold of you?”
Makthryg looked up, pale and haggard. “No need to take shelter. We are close now. But Valkrog has reached the device. We must make haste: I believe it to be on the very next peak. As for my problem”—he paused, his wild eyes searching—“it was a small fit. I am prone to them when weak.” He looked up at Andreas. “And as you may observe, I am more than weak. I know not what is happening to me. But we must reach the device.”
Andreas watched the man for a few moments, then returned to his friends.
“What is it?” Paolo said. “Another trick?”
“I suspect he is partially correct. He claims Valkrog has the device, and he would have us believe it is atop the next rise. On this I think he speaks the truth, since we may easily verify it.”
“But?” Tomas looked at his friend.
“But there is something he is withholding. We must be on guard. We are three strong and fully fit; he is frail and seems close to perishing, though I know not why, and neither does he. Tomas. Have these at the ready”—he pointed to the coil of rope slung over Tomas’s shoulder—“just in case. Either way, we must push on after recovering our breath.”
“Then what? We find the device—and then?” Paolo looked at them both squarely.
Andreas scratched his cheek. “I can only tell you what I feel: which is that I sense the answer will be found when we arrive.”
Tomas clapped Andreas on the back. “Now you sound like a soothsayer, my friend. Let us not waste an instant. I must know your predictions as to how we may rid ourselves of this.” He indicated the ominous clouds brooding in the distance. He stood and pulled Paolo up. “Come Paolo. Just a few more steps to salvation.” He threw Andreas a quizzical look and stepped back out into the fierce wind, followed by Paolo.
Andreas looked back at Makthryg, who matched his gaze, took a deep breath and with difficulty, brought himself to standing. He nodded at Andreas, and Andreas motioned him past. Truth-speaker or not, he would not put his whole party in front of the sorcerer.
They struggled up the next path, and threaded their way between large boulders. The brief respites from the wind were welcome, but all too short. Soon they were back to struggling through its full shrieking blast, the four of them now spaced apart.
Andreas glanced up and saw that Tomas, who had been leading the way, had come to a halt. He was holding his arm up behind him, bidding them to stop when they reached him. He was staring further up the path. Andreas made his way forward, and motioned for Paolo to manhandle the sorcerer between them.
They all stopped at the sight.
A gleaming black cube of a metallic-like appearance, no larger than a child’s footstool, rested to the side of the pathway, fifteen or so steps ahead of them. Slumped by its side was Valkrog, his stare fixated on his frail superior.
Tomas started forward, but was restrained again by Andreas. “Let us move together.”
Step-by-step they advanced, hunched against the whipping wind toward the bird-man. To their surprise, he did not make any attempt to move. As they moved closer, Paolo gasped. “Do you see that? I see the rocks through his body.”
Andreas nodded, leaning into the strong gusts. He felt a touch on his arm and turned. Makthryg. The sorcerer moved in close, unable to shout. “He is discorporating.” Andreas shrugged. He had no idea what the sorcerer meant by the word. Makthryg leaned in again. “Let me approach him.”
Paolo shook his head and
grabbed Andreas’s shoulder. “We must all go together.” Andreas acknowledged with a brief dip of his head, and pulled the sorcerer along with him toward the creature.
Valkrog appeared confused. They reached him unchallenged, and the creature still made no attempt to move. Instead he spoke in a weakened tone. “Master, you came. Why did you bring ... ?” He slumped further.
“How else will we transport this device, my servant?” Makthryg said.
Andreas sensed a strength in the sorcerer’s voice not apparent so far during the journey and stiffened, but Makthryg had already stepped forward. “Approach me now and sustain energy from my embrace.”
Tomas whipped the rope from his shoulder and Andreas moved to restrain the sorcerer as he advanced, but both were taken by surprise as his previous fragility vanished. Makthryg struck Tomas and Andreas to the ground, at the same time extending his arms to his creature. Paolo jumped on Makthryg’s back to no avail, and the sorcerer moved to Valkrog despite the extra load, oblivious to the wind.
He reached the bird-man as Andreas and Tomas scrambled to their feet and battled the wind to catch him, but he already had his arms around the creature, ignoring Paolo tearing at his hair and shoulders. He muttered strange words while he held Valkrog tight, then flung his arms open and cast Paolo to the ground. He stood for a moment with his arms held wide, then brought his hands back in a resounding smack to both sides of the creature’s head.
A violent crack tore through the air, and both the sorcerer and his creation fell to the ground unmoving.
Tomas reached them first and threw himself across them. “Help me. While they are unconscious, we will bind them.”
“It will do you no good.” Makthryg was conscious again. “Get off me and I will help you restrain him. The rope will need a little incantation to prevent his insubstantial nature crossing through them as if the bindings were non-existent. I am no threat to you—I expended almost the last of my magical energy subduing him.”
“He lies.” Paolo got back up, panting and rubbing himself down.
Makthryg looked back at the boy. “Then you kneel on my chest and your friends will attempt to rope off Valkrog. You will see for yourself I do not lie.”
Paolo shrugged; grabbed the sorcerer by the shoulders and dragged him away from the bird-man, laying him on his back. He kicked both the man’s arms underneath him, then sat on his chest, leaving the sorcerer trapped. “I need no invitation from tricksters.”
Makthryg eyed the boy. “You will find I am no trickster—least no longer. Why else would I deliberately cripple us both?”
Paolo curled his lip, and turned to watch Andreas and Tomas attempt to manhandle the creature.
“He speaks the truth once again,” Tomas said, watching as the ropes fell through the unconscious creature again. “To my eyes this creature is becoming less substantial—perhaps even dying. What say we leave it here and use the ropes on him instead?” He flicked his gaze at the sorcerer, who made no attempt to struggle under Paolo. “We have the device, we can move it safely, though perhaps not with ease”—he glanced at the sky—“and—”
“And then?” the sorcerer said, fixing his gaze on Tomas. His words were barely audible over the gale that whipped at their clothes.
Tomas looked at Andreas for help, but he shook his head.
Makthryg turned his attention to Paolo. “Boy—please listen. I cannot shout over this gale.” Paolo leaned closer and the man continued.
“What is he saying?” Andreas looked at Tomas, but the man just shrugged. Paolo finished listening, then released himself from the sorcerer’s chest, and helped him up. They stumbled across, their hair wild in the wind.
“Give him the rope. He will do as he says.”
Tomas handed over the rope, bemused. Makthryg nodded, took the rope and held it for a while, chanting. No change was visible, but he threw one end of the rope over the supine creature and this time it stayed. He looked at Andreas briefly, then his eyes rolled up into his head and he crumpled to the ground.
“Take him some water, Paolo. Tomas and I will finish securing this beast while you speak. Tell us. What magic did he share to turn your mind?”
“He told me he did not know why, but he suspects if Valkrog is killed, or if he tries to use the machine or destroy it, then our world dies. He believes the device must be returned to the other world and Valkrog is crucial to fixing the problem.”
Tomas frowned. “His story is consistent, if nothing else. Though he only now tells us of the creature’s involvement. But I still do not understand. I would have placed money on him attempting to trick us once he led us to the device, but not his own creation. It is a nice story, but hardly persuasive. Particularly since he knows how much you despise him. What else did he say?”
Paolo nodded. “You are correct, Tomas, though I believe he speaks the truth.” He gave a deep sigh. “He told me the other world is also in trouble—perhaps worse than ours.”
“How does he know this?” Andreas looked puzzled.
“The young girl again. She is persistent in his dreams. But hear this, for this is what had me convinced: he told me we must summon the Orange Witch—to use his words—to our world. That only she would have the power to save both us and her own world.”
“It could still be a trick, Paolo.” Andreas finished trussing the bird-man, and stood, steadying himself against the constant buffeting.
“He said he had promised the young girl he would help. He told her to find Sarina, and that we needed her help.”
“Pah!” Tomas moved across to the prone sorcerer. “I believed him enough to bring us this far, but now I am not so sure. He would have us bring Sarina for some underhand reason. Why do we not tie him up too? No matter what his story is, once they are bound, we have them both safely under control. What say you, Andreas?”
Paolo held up his hand. “No, Tomas. Listen to me please. The young girl. Lena.” He looked flustered. “Before I stood, he concentrated on something, and the girl appeared in my mind too—and before you say, ‘another mind-trick, Paolo,’ she told me she could prove their message to me was true. She referred to something that happened to me in their world—when Nathan had made me out to be a wrestling champion. Something Makthryg would have no knowledge of. Makthryg is correct, Andreas. We must summon Sarina, and return this ... thing.”
Tomas raised his eyebrows. “A wrestling champion, eh? Perhaps when we are rid of this—”
“Hold your thoughts for another time, Tomas.” Andreas had turned against the wind, shielding his eyes, and pointed into the distance. “Whatever we must do, we must do it before we run out of time and the world ends.”
All three looked towards the gathering black cloud, which had formed one immense bank across the sky. From one end to the other, menacing dark spouts snaked down to the ground.
“What nightmare is this?” Tomas cried.
Andreas shook his head slowly.
~ 44 ~
Running On Nerves
“You’re sure he understood?” Sarina knelt next to Lena after the young girl came out of her trance. She’d had some difficulty convincing Lena she could reach Makthryg that way, but when the time came, she sat in the ‘sleepy chair’ and closed her eyes. She’d listened to Sarina’s vivid description of Paolo’s world, and slipped into the daydream easily enough.
Lena nodded. “I made him repeat it: Paolo had pretended to be a Bulgarian wrestling champion when he was in our world. I told him it would prove to Paolo he really had made contact with me—and with you, of course,” she added.
Sarina pursed her lips. “Now we must hurry.” She looked over at Agent Blanchard, who nodded.
“Everything is ready to go, Miss.”
Sarina, Nathan, and Lena left, along with the Professor and Agent Blanchard, whom she noticed still walked with a slight limp from his previous altercation with Valkrog. The Agent had recommended they keep on the move until the publicity about Minister Denning had saturated the news, at which
point he expected The Consortium to back away. Temporarily.
Now they were in another blacked-out minibus and on their way to a secure private airfield near Swindon. Agent Blanchard had also suggested the airstrip would provide a swift exit if needed, as well as a convenient location for Rona to rejoin them.
No one spoke for most of the journey. Sarina guessed they were all too exhausted from the recent rapid-fire events. Not that it was going to get any easier. Now she was preparing for another journey to Paolo’s world, to take the Professor with her this time, and he would shut down and destroy the machine. Lena had caught wind of this conversation, and claimed Makthryg—or ‘Daddy’, as she insisted on calling him—would not be happy. The message was garbled, but according to him, the collider was best returned to their own world. After her conversations with the Professor and Agent Blanchard, Sarina now thought differently. Placing the horrible device within reach of the dratted weapons dealers would not be a smart idea at all. No. She had decided that the machine had to be destroyed the instant she set eyes on it. Then those stupid boys and their experts would have nothing left to fight over. Lena had also told her that ‘Daddy’ needed Sarina’s help. Yeah, right. As if she would fall for that old trick.
She sighed. All of these scenarios assumed she could even make another portal. She understood the logic behind an ‘emotional blockage’, but in practice, she had no idea how that was supposed to play out. All she knew was the gnawing in her stomach was louder than ever, and that wasn’t a good thing.
Her thoughts were swept away as the minibus drove up to a gated security area, and they were let through once the guard identified Agent Blanchard. They sped across the tarmac to a large, standalone aircraft hangar. Two black-suited men guarding the sliding entrance stood to one side to let the vehicle through, and closed the hangar entrance behind them.
The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults) Page 84
