Justyn flopped a chunk of fish onto his cutting board as he chimed in. “But didn’t Big Dad have a theory that trauma might activate the Project’s… I mean, Wodan’s change? No matter what Langley did to fuse bone and flesh together, there’s no guarantee any of it would’ve taken hold if Wodan’s body wasn’t doing its part, too.”
“Who can say?” said Matthias.
Wodan remembered when the cave in the Valley had shown him Dove Langley spying on his parents on the night they’d heard their son was to be executed. At the time, he’d been indignant. Now he felt only gratitude for her concern and regret for his thoughtless reaction. He wanted to press Matthias on the issue of Langley, but suppressed the urge. He was desperate for information about the Engels and how they were similar to himself, and he reasoned that Matthias would only shut down if coerced.
“Was trauma used with you guys?” said Wodan. “Is that why, when I met you, you were already…”
“No,” said Matthias. “We were born like this. For all our similarities, we’re different from you. I don’t know how, exactly. Big Dad isn’t one for lengthy explanations and open channels of communication.”
Justyn served up their meals, raw fish with herbs and rice. Though he had eaten something similar when he’d first met the pair, he couldn’t shake the thought that they were playing a joke on him.
“Big Dad was furious when we told him we wouldn’t kill you,” said Matthias. “But-”
“That was just his normal anger-level,” said Justyn. “He wasn’t furious until we explained why we let you live.”
“Which was?” said Wodan.
Justyn shrugged. “We liked you.” Wodan laughed loudly and Justyn cracked a wide, lopsided grin. “What were we, seventeen back then? What did he expect from us?”
“He’s not the kind of man one can easily refuse,” Matthias said loudly, ignoring the laughter. “He spent an entire night trying to break me, which was why I left to kill you myself, Wodan. I swear I never meant to do it, not really, but when I caught you alone... I guess I was still feeling small, from the way Big Dad treated me. About the fact that he picked me and not Justyn or Langley, like he thought I was weak and could be manipulated. So that was why I was an asshole to you. When you turned on me, Wodi, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like a real monster. When I returned, I confronted Big Dad and he was so angry that... that he nearly threw my Switch and killed me.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Who fuckin’ knows with that guy.”
“Hm. But there are twelve of you, right? Why didn’t he send any others?”
“We’re the combat models!” Justyn beamed with a mouth full of fish.
“We’re the grunts,” said Matthias, shaking his head. “Maybe you could say we’re the “action figures” from his collection of toys. Me, Justyn, and Langley, we work with the military, even though technically we’re not a part of the normal chain of command. We go where we’re needed. Two of us are military - Josef and Valeria - but they’re needed to supervise the larger campaigns.”
Wodan felt an unwelcome memory. “Josef, that’s...”
“Warmaster of the Empire. Langley’s husband.”
“Dad could’ve sent Victor,” said Justyn.
Matthias nodded, then said to Wodan, “Victor’s a gladiator. He fights in big sporting events. He’s the strongest... suh, uh, second strongest of us, I mean.”
“He’s got muscle mass, sure,” Justyn added quickly. “He bulks up because that’s what an audience wants to see. But that guy’s not built for military operations, believe me.”
Sensing more than a little resentment in Justyn’s tone, Wodan hid his surprise that anyone could possibly be more powerful than the Empire’s axe-swinging giant.
“Do the others look like,” said Wodan, pausing. “Do they look like… you know…”
“Remarkably handsome?” said Matthias. “Yes. But some more so than others.”
“No, I mean – do any of you look like the people of San Ktari?”
“Of course,” said Matthias, taken aback. “Can’t you tell? Well, that is, we’re a mix, you could say. All of us have genetic markers from the Eastern genotype. It may not be apparent to… well, I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed. I mean, clearly, just look at… well…”
Justyn set his elbow down on the table hard enough to rattle their plates and leaned in toward Matthias.
“Fine,” said Matthias, exhaling. “I guess it’s obvious. The thing about Big Dad is that he’s an outlander. He doesn’t talk about his past, but he’s built up a deep reservoir of racial intolerance toward the people who took him in.”
“He hates them,” said Justyn, nodding.
“When the Emperor gave him the go-ahead to modify a dozen unborn children, Big Dad refused to work with any kids from San Ktari. I don’t know what story he sold to them, but he told me on more than one occasion that it would have been an uphill battle to work with an obviously inferior race. Instead, he picked families from twelve other nations and city-states. Most of which have been, or are in the process of, being rolled over by the so-called inferior race of San Ktari. Big Dad sees our existence as a sort of irony. The spiritual revenge of the conquered.”
As soon as Wodan finished eating, the inactivity gnawed at him. “Alright,” he said. “So where’s Langley? What did you guys need me for?”
Matthias drummed his fingers on the table for a long time. “We’ve only been in Srila for two weeks,” he said. “On our second day, the three of us went into the mountains near the Deepest Vale. It didn’t seem there was anything hostile in the area, so we were taking it easy. We became separated. I don’t know how it happened... but this thing... there was no struggle, none at all, but I saw this humanoid thing rising up into the air with Langley in its arms. She was unconscious. The thing saw me…”
“A demon?”
“No, no. It was metallic, with dead eyes. It had some sort of jet on its back, and it blasted away. I ran to the airstrip with my eyes on it the entire time. We chased it into a storm on the mountains. I told no one why we pursued the thing. But it didn’t matter; we lost it, and we lost Dove.”
“How do you know it came here?” said Wodan.
“Hell if I know,” said Matthias, rubbing his eyes as if digging into his skull. “This is the direction it was heading. For all I know, it doubled back and hid in one of the caves in Srila. But Justyn and I brought a force to the Tower. We fought it...”
“Fought the Tower?” said Wodan, amazed. “How?”
“Just blasted at it, man, what else? But bullets had no effect, and while it seemed that concentrated artillery fire damaged it, it always... it’s hard to describe. The surface shifted. It healed as fast as we could hurt it.”
“It was repairing itself?”
Matthias sighed. “This thing is beyond us, Wodan. We don’t know what it is. Repairing, healing, some other analogue, I don’t know. We didn’t have long to experiment. The Tower emitted some sort of concentrated beam of light, almost like a whip of pure energy. Only I could see the beam; it was too fast for anyone else to make it out. But whatever it touched, it destroyed. Sliced through, incinerated, cauterized, vaporized – a total fucking mess. It even melted sand into strips of glass. We had to pull back.” Matthias stared into Wodan’s eyes. “I’m convinced that Dove Langley is inside that Tower. She’s trapped. But we don’t know what to do.”
“Matthias, have you called for reinforcements from San Ktari?”
Matthias shook his head. “If her husband the Warmaster found out, the first thing he’d do is flip out and have us go on a suicide run against the Tower. Then he’d be stuck in the same position we are: How do you study a thing that doesn’t want to be studied? How do you find a weakness when the people working for you are incompetent or scared or both? And even if you do find a weakness, how do you destroy that thing without killing Dove?”
“You haven’t told anyone else? Only you two know?”
�
��Look Wodan, if Big Dad found out that Langley was trapped inside something we know nothing about, he’d throw her Switch and kill her. I know he would. Who can say just what’s inside that thing, and what it’s doing to Langley? Killing her? Torturing her? Brainwashing her so she can be used against us? Big Dad, the Emperor, the millions of people who worship us... we’re only useful to them as long as we’re under their control. Dove’s life means nothing outside of that context.”
“And you think I can do something to get her out?”
Matthias turned aside and Justyn bore his eyes into the ground. “You’ve got that way about you,” said Matthias. “You tend to get things done. And you owe her. But I… I don’t mean it like that. I know I’m asking a lot.”
“It’s nothing,” said Wodan, rising suddenly. “We’re family.”
The two superbeings worked their mouths lamely. “What are you going to do?” said Justyn.
“Find a door,” said Wodan. “Then knock.”
***
Wodan, Matthias, and Justyn walked out from the camp. The white-hot sun beat down on them and dust dragged across their feet in a slow, burning wind. The Tower loomed in the distance. As they drew nearer, Wodan saw that it was imperfectly shaped, its form curving organically. They came to the charred remains of blasted artillery pieces, an upended jeep seared in half with melted tires hanging in black tatters. Ahead, pieces of an airplane, perhaps two, lay among swirls of sparkling glass like frozen pools.
“This is about as far as we can go,” said Matthias. “Any closer and it inevitably attacks.”
Wodan stood with them for a while and watched. His heart pounded not only with fear but with the strange desire to throw himself into the unknown. He did not fully know what he would do. The ancient obelisk both attracted and repelled him. He was reminded of the cave in the Valley, the forbidden place inhabited by a computer program designed by the Ancients. The program was demented and spoke in the language of nightmares, but it was the very thing that had given him his sword Capricornus.
“Go back,” said Wodan.
The two hesitated. “What are you going to do?” said Justyn.
“Go back!” said Wodan, his eyes locked on the distant strip of darkness.
Matthias turned about. Justyn hesitated. He watched Wodan for a while, then joined Matthias further back.
Wodan took a step forward, put one hand on the hilt of Capricornus at his back, then shouted, “My name is Wodan!”
“I already tried shouting at it,” Matthias called from the distance. “It won’t respond.”
Wodan ignored them. He took another step, then another, then drew Capricornus from its sheathe. Its green glow was pale and raw under the wasteland sun. Wodan felt it throb in his hand as it drank up the harsh light. Power flowed into his arm, then coursed through his body and blood. He forced his feet to take one step after another. “Do you hear me?” he shouted. “I am Wodan! I drew the sword Capricornus from the Cave of the Ancients!”
At once there was a violent blast before him. The earth erupted in a shower of heat and dust. Overwhelmed by fear, he backed away as quickly as he could, sword held before him. The earth shook and he was blinded by red light. The blast ended but heat and dust still washed over him, and when his ears adjusted he realized that Justyn was screaming his name over and over. Wiping dust from his eyes, he turned and saw Justyn stepping forward with short, awkward steps, then saw Matthias holding his legs from behind.
“Back! Stay back!” Wodan shouted. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling sideways. As the dust settled he saw that the ground nearby was molten, baking, the reek of sulfur singeing his nostrils.
A laser, thought Wodan. Of course, it’s some kind of laser weapon! The fabled “sword of fire” that Jarl told me about! It was a wonder to Wodan that Matthias could see the laser at all - to Wodan, it seemed an indescribable blast of violence too fast for the mind to comprehend. He had wondered before that if the weapon was a laser - a weapon based on light - then perhaps Capricornus could deflect or absorb the blast.
No chance of that happening, thought Wodan. It’s too fast!
But if it wanted to kill me, I would be dead already...
Unless that was just a warning shot.
“Come back!” shouted Matthias. Wodan saw Justyn kick Matthias away, then he stopped and signaled to Wodan.
Wodan shook his head, then continued on. He heard Matthias cursing in the distance.
Wodan held Capricornus like a torch guiding him through a labyrinth of fear. A long wisp of smoke curled overhead, steam burned out of the air from the path of the laser. The muscles in his arms were taut and shaking. He was covered in cold sweat in expectation of imminent death, but his legs were cooking and sliding in the sweat trapped in his winter gear.
The Tower grew, and grew, never seeming to draw nearer, only growing wider until the base seemed like a black wall around an otherworldly city. It rose higher and higher. He could see organic bulges rising in black waves to a teetering point far above. He heard the wind singing as it scraped around the dark mass. Wodan wondered how many others, if any, had ever drawn so close to this thing that was considered a god of the wasteland.
He could no longer see anyone behind him. There was nothing but the scraping dust of the tortured desert and the rising Tower. Just when he began to think that he would be allowed to approach without harm, he heard the whine and crackle of static electricity far overhead. He knew that a weapon was charging, and was terrified by the thought that perhaps the Tower had only needed a few minutes to recharge its weapon before he could be swatted like a fly.
At once he took off across the kill zone, feet pumping against clinging sand that pulled him down. The charge far above crackled horribly, a hangman humming as the noose drew taught. Finally he could see the sand ending before a sheer black wall – he cast himself into the air, rolled, hit the burning ground shoulder-first and slid. As he scraped along the ground he heard the charging weapon far above cut off with a sharp krack! It fell silent. With shaking hands Wodan sheathed Capricornus, knelt beside the face of the Tower, and gathered his breath.
Once rested, he studied the base of the Tower. It was smooth and black and made of some kind of non-reflective material. It seemed metallic. He hesitated, then tapped its surface. It was warm, but did not click against his fingernails like any metal he had ever encountered. He rose and walked along its featureless perimeter. After a quarter of an hour he found an opening, about twenty feet overhead, lying between two curving bulges. He looked ahead and saw that the Tower only stretched on, featureless, until it disappeared around its own horizon. He turned back to the opening.
He still had his backpack of food and water with him. He was hungry, but resting and eating beside such a strange edifice seemed unwise. There was no turning back - the laser prevented that – so finding an entrance was his only option. He considered placing a landmark to mark his progress and continuing around the perimeter, but he felt that there would be no obvious, easy entrance. Perhaps any obvious entrance would also conceal a trap.
He studied the hole overhead. He knew that he had jumped similar heights in the past, when in battle, but never at full rest and weighed down. He removed his backpack and tossed it into the opening. It disappeared soundlessly. He drew up into himself, crouched, and leaped. His fingers scraped clumsily against the side of the Tower and he fell to the hard sand, falling back on his ass. Frustrated, he ran back, threw himself forward, then leaped again. His nails scraped just beneath the opening and, wailing in anger, he clawed down the side of the Tower and fell on his back. Blood flowing, angered at the possible loss of his food, he leaped into the air once more, feet pounding against the warm metal, and grasped the opening just as he began to fall again. Sucking in great torrents of air, he heaved himself up and into the opening of the Tower.
The narrow opening was a dark cleft of shadow. His backpack was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Undying, Immortal
&nb
sp; Wodan unsheathed Capricornus and shone its green light on the narrow, dark hallway that led deeper into the Tower. There was only just enough room to stand upright. His boots made hardly any sound as he crept ahead. The sound of empty space and wind was replaced by a low hum that crept on the edge of awareness. The light of day shrank to a point, a dull star, and when he turned a corner in the black hallway the feeble light disappeared entirely. He continued on through black halls and curves that led him deeper into the structure. By the light of his sword he saw more organic bulges in the black metal corridors, and felt as if he was moving through the innards of something ancient, a being dark and vast and as old as the wasteland itself.
He came to a narrow tunnel with an opening in the ceiling. The chute curved gently so that he could not see where it led; his green light showed only bulges, possible footholds, and a few black tubes crossing one another like veins. The tunnel he was in continued on into darkness. Unwilling to find out if the tunnel only led to another opening on the far side of the structure, Wodan braced himself and leaped up into the chute, easily grabbing a handhold and pressing his legs against either side while holding his sword.
Wodan climbed the dark chute using three limbs and the pommel of his sword. During one awkward turn he jammed the blade against the chute and left a long gash in its surface. He could see that the material was not metal after all. While studying the gash, he became convinced that it was shrinking. He crouched and waited. Sure enough, within a few minutes the gash disappeared, leaving only a thin ridge of a scar. He did not know what to make of it. Realizing that Capricornus could run out of power in the darkness, and thus become deadweight, he continued his ascent. He reasoned that he could sheathe the sword and conserve its power, but he did not want to be in absolute darkness in such a forbidding, alien environment.
[Demonworld #6] The Love of Tyrants Page 22
