Fractures

by Olivo, Nicholas

  “Thank you,” I said as I stepped inside. Cather’s lair is the equivalent of a million-dollar townhouse, furnished with exotic sculptures, art, and most important, the wardrobes of famous people. His latest prized piece was the robe Alec Guinness had worn during the filming of Return of the Jedi. Another kobold appeared at Kleep’s side, carrying a single can of Pepsi on a silver tray. He bowed as I cracked open the soda and took a drink. Then he vanished. “I am sorry to say that Master Cather is not home now, Lord Corinthos,” Kleep said.

  “Probably sniffing out some cache of lost Nazi gold,” I said, half to myself.

  Kleep blinked. “How did you know?”

  If I hadn’t known Cather as well as I did, I might have snarfed my Pepsi at that. But ever since he’d gotten his treasure sense restored, he’d been looting lost treasures like gold coins were going out of style. I just winked at Kleep. “Actually, I’m here to see you. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Kleep’s glowing yellow eyes sparkled. “We are doing well, Lord Corinthos,” he said. “Would you like me to show you what Cather has us working on?”

  “That would be great,” I said. The kobolds only started worshipping me a week or so ago. I rescued Kleep’s tribe from a group of vicious redcaps, and shortly thereafter, they began praying to me. I hadn’t spent as much time with them as I would’ve liked, with the way things had been going lately. Still, I took a measure of comfort in knowing that Cather, the dragon who lived here, would look out for them while I couldn’t.

  As I followed Kleep, it was hard not to see the draconic heritage that flowed through every kobold. Kleep was short, just a hair over three feet tall, and covered in scarlet scales. Tiny nodules of horn ran along his snout and over his eyes, giving him the look of a T-Rex that had been miniaturized and then Disney-fied. He wore a black leather vest sporting brass buttons that had been polished until they shone. Cather’s house symbol, a dragon rising over a mountain, was embroidered on its back. On Kleep’s right breast was a patch with a circular red, white, and blue symbol. A phrase in kobold was stitched into it in red thread. I consulted my kobold-pedia and translated “Vincent Corinthos protects us.”

  They’d made my holy symbol look like the Pepsi logo.

  “Master Cather keeps us busy, Lord,” Kleep said, leading me into a room filled with stacks of coins, piles of gems, and piles of gold bars. A handful of kobolds were polishing the precious metals, while others were crafting it into jewelry. “Our metalworking skills are of utmost use to him, as you can see.” The thing about dragons is, just having precious metals and gems isn’t enough. You need those things to look good.

  I nodded. “I’ll bet the other dragons are already coveting his hoard.”

  Kleep beamed with pride as he led me from the metalworking room into Cather’s library. “I do not want you to think that Cather is overly demanding of us, Lord Corinthos. We each work eight hours a day, across three shifts. The shifts rotate, allowing us the opportunity to explore the Undercity and learn more about this realm and its people.”

  Several of the kobolds were reading magazines. Cather’s library is three levels, and while he has volumes of literature that are no doubt worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, the kobolds were reading old issues of Wizard magazine, chattering quietly amongst themselves about X-Men movies that had been released years ago. Another pair of them sat at a table in the corner, playing Magic: The Gathering.

  I smiled. Now these were my people. It was funny, the Urisk hadn’t picked up any of my extracurricular activities. Kleep and company pray to me via drinking songs, feel that playing collectible card games is a sacred activity, believe Commander Courageous comic books are holy texts, and that my favorite soft drink is a sacramental beverage.

  Kleep took me from the library to another room, this one was wall-to-wall television screens displaying maps from around the world. A handful of kobolds sat at computers, pecking out letters with their claws. Kobold hands weren’t exactly made for QWERTY keyboards, and one kobold shook his head as he accidentally tore out a handful of keys. He sighed, set the broken keyboard on a stack of similarly damaged devices, and produced a new keyboard from a desk drawer.

  I rubbed my chin. On the Bright Side, I could easily conjure a keyboard for the kobolds; just wiggle my fingers and the device would form from my will. But Commander Courageous had explained to me that even if I had followers on Earth, I wouldn’t be nigh-omnipotent here; something about it being my home plane prevented that. I made a mental note to talk to Gearstripper about rigging something up so the kobolds would be able to type more easily.

  “In this room, Master Cather has us map out all the rumors we hear about treasure. One of our duties involves scouting the Undercity, listening for conversations of interest, and then cataloging treasure based rumors here. If we detect other opportunities that Master Cather deems lucrative, we document those as well.”

  It’s funny how different paranormals use different terminology for certain activities. When a kobold says scout, what he’s actually saying is spy. Cather had been one of the premier information brokers in the paranormal community before he had the kobolds helping him, but now, I had no doubt he was the top dog. Cather likely had the kobolds turning invisible, eavesdropping on conversations, and then churning out blackmail material. However, knowing Cather as I do, he’d never use that blackmail material unless someone threatened him first. He’d hoard information the same way he hoarded antiques, collectibles, and vintage clothing. But he’d only use it if he absolutely had to.

  “Anything interesting turn up lately?” I asked. While I can know anything my followers do, sometimes it’s just nice to have a conversation with them.

  Kleep nodded. “There have been several reports of new vampires moving into town. They’re keeping to themselves for the time being, but the Blood Runners seem to be worried about them. Master Cather has asked us to stay away from them for now.”

  And that was part of the reason I’d asked Cather to take care of the kobolds. For all his greed, Cather is not reckless. I’m sure that information on a new vampire clan would bring in tons of money from the right parties, but Cather wouldn’t risk the kobolds’ lives for that.

  Kleep continued. “The other story of note is a glowing wraith that has appeared in the Undercity.”

  “Tell me more,” I said.

  Kleep led me over to an unused computer and pecked out a few commands, bringing up a page of text alongside a map on the screen. “The wraith has appeared just one time that we know about.” A dot appeared on the map, denoting where the incident took place. “It only appeared for a few seconds, and then vanished.” Kleep pecked out another command and a small video appeared in the upper right of the screen. It showed a barmaid cleaning a table at the Knobby Broomstick, one of the Undercity’s numerous pubs. A moment later, a burst of yellow and orange light momentarily blinded the camera. When it returned to normal, a glowing wraith was in the pub, reaching for the barmaid. The woman staggered back, tripping over a chair. The wraith reached for her, then faded. The video went dark. “That’s the only footage we have of the creature,” Kleep said.

  I rubbed my chin. I’d want to pass the vampire tidbit on to Megan, and inform Galahad about the wraith. I had Kleep email me a copy of the video, then he signed off from the computer. “There is one more thing I wish to show you, Lord Corinthos,” he said. Kleep led me back into the hall and down three flights of stairs. He paused at the doorway and looked at me. “Please keep your voice down in here,” he said as he opened the door.

  This room was hot compared to the others, and it felt like walking into a humidor. It was staffed by a handful of female kobolds, distinguishable from males in that they have an extra row of bony protrusions running down the center of their snouts. Well, that and I can tell them apart because I know my followers’ souls intimately. The light in this room
was dim, barely enough to see by, but all kobolds are gifted with night vision, which I flipped on now.

  Several clutches of eggs sat in small blanket-wrapped pods. The kobolds moved back and forth, gently stroking the eggs, singing to them, planting tiny kisses against the shells.

  “You look like you have a strong start to the next generation,” I whispered to Kleep.

  Kleep smiled. “We hope so. On the Bright Side, a hatchery such as this wouldn’t have been possible. Predators saw our eggs as a delicacy, and we had to hide them in caves deep underground. Thanks to you and Master Cather, we have our first chance in centuries at more than one clutch hatching.”

  I waved my hand and blessed the eggs. I wanted the next generation of kobolds to be strong and healthy. Kleep and his people had suffered a lot on the Bright Side, and at the hands of the redcaps, but that suffering would pale in comparison to the pain they would feel if their new clutch was sick or stillborn. Purple light, holy light granted to me by my followers, shimmered around the eggs. Hmm. This was the first time I’d used kobold holy light; I hadn’t expected it to be a different color from the Urisk’s. The shimmering faded, and while the eggs didn’t grow or change in any obvious way, they did seem more solid, as if they were all suddenly standing up straighter, saying, “Yeah, I’m an egg right now, but you just wait until I hatch.”

  The kobolds in the room sensed it, too. They chattered excitedly and snuggled their eggs. They began singing a moment later, and I felt my kobold faith reserves fill. Unlike the Urisk, who pray to me with litanies, the kobolds pray to me with drinking songs, like the rousing rendition of “Seven Drunken Kobolds” that I was hearing now. Since I had far fewer kobold followers than Urisk, my kobold reserves were tiny in comparison, but at that moment, they felt huge. A smiling Kleep led me from the room and back into the hallway.

  “Thank you, Lord. We are truly lucky to have you.”

  “My pleasure, Kleep.” Okay, now to address the other reason I’d come. “And now, if you would be so kind, I require two vials of Astral.”

  Kleep’s luminescent eyes widened. “By the scales of Messesrhitha,” he breathed. “You must face a great challenge if you need to consult the wisdom of those from Beyond.”

  I put on my most somber expression and nodded. What the hell had Courageous gotten me into?

  “Come this way, Lord, please,” Kleep said, beckoning for me to follow. “You can make yourself comfortable in one of the guest bedrooms, and I will bring you what you requested.” He wrung his reptilian hands as he looked up at me. “Though are you sure you wish a double dose?”

  “One for now, one for later,” I said, repeating what Courageous had told me.

  Kleep nodded, a relieved look crossing his face. “Very well.” He bowed and left the room.

  All of Cather’s guest rooms were furnished in different motifs. There was a room done up as if it were part of the Emerald Palace from the Wizard of Oz, there was another one dedicated solely to Dragonball Z, and yet another that was made up to look like a cabin from The Love Boat. I’ve never been able to work up the nerve to ask Cather about that one—for some reason, the potential answers frighten me.

  I wasn’t in any of those rooms now. This was the arcade-themed bedroom. The king-sized bed sported a plush Pac Man comforter, the carpet was done in the style of Q*Bert’s pyramids, and the walls sported the girder-like levels of Donkey Kong. There was a sit-down arcade cabinet that offered dozens of classic arcade titles, and I couldn’t help but start up a game of Space Invaders while I waited for Kleep to return.

  I’d just lost my last ship when the door opened and Kleep stepped inside, silver tray in hand. On it was a shot glass filled with a red liquid. A capped vial sat next to the shot glass, filled with the same stuff. Kleep set the tray down on the arcade table and bowed. “We will sing for your success, Lord Corinthos,” he said solemnly.

  I thanked Kleep, who excused himself from the room. As the door closed behind him, I regarded the drink before me. Commander Courageous had said I needed to drink this, but he hadn’t said why. In fact, he’d been acting strangely lately, on edge, like someone had been pursuing him. If he was in trouble, which seemed the case, then I needed to help him. I still wasn’t sure how this drink was supposed to help, but I wasn’t going to find out by just sitting here.

  I knocked back the Astral in one gulp. Fire and ice raged in my throat as it went down. It was like drinking sandpaper and acid and bleach. My stomach felt like it would burst out of me in protest, and my windpipe closed up as if it was trying to strangle me. I fell from the arcade table to my hands and knees, my eyes watering so badly that I couldn’t even see. I collapsed to the floor on my stomach, the Q*Bert carpet scraping against my face. All I could imagine was the sound Q*Bert made as he hopped from tile to tile.

  Kabop, kabop.

  After an eternity, the pain faded and my mind cleared. I managed to get back to my feet.

  At least, that’s what I thought I’d done.

  Instead, as I looked down, I saw my body lying prone on the floor. I was hovering a foot above the ground. I looked down at my hands and found they were translucent. I reached out to touch my body, and my hand passed right through it.

  My spirit had been forcibly ejected from my body.

  Chapter 2

  Brothers,

  An odd spike in tachyon energy has just appeared in Boston, originating from Vincent Corinthos. I have never seen this particular pattern before, but given that Corinthos is involved, it cannot be good. Increase scrutiny on Commander Courageous as well. I do not want him altering the time stream; the consequences of that could be disastrous.

  —Missive from Brother Abraham Webb to the Chronicler Community at Large

  It took me a minute to calm down and catch my breath, if in fact I was actually breathing, which I wasn’t sure I was. I felt solid to myself, but as best as I could tell, I was incorporeal to the rest of the world. Think, Corinthos, think. I was floating above my body, which thankfully still seemed to be working. I could see my back rising and falling, and then my body started to snore. Okay, so I wasn’t dead. That was good. So what was I?

  I slapped my hand against my forehead. Astral. Astral projection. Stupid for not figuring that out ahead of time. So now that I was astrally projected, I was supposed to have a vision. I looked around. Somehow, I doubted this was what Commander Courageous had in mind when he told me to drink the stuff, unless the grand vision was some cheat code intended to let me beat Pac Man. I tried to move forward, but when I tried to walk, I was just walking in place, as if I were on a treadmill. I closed my eyes and concentrated, willing myself to move forward. I glided ahead, my feet still a foot off the ground. I experimented a bit, figuring out how to focus and then move where I wanted to go. With basic navigation done, I felt better about seeking out this vision.

  Of course, I had no idea where I was supposed to find it. I reached for the doorknob and my hand passed right through it. Right. No corporeal form. Could I phase through the door?

  It turned out I could, and I passed through and into the hall beyond. I ghosted through Cather’s home, unseen by the kobolds, though some of them began humming bars of the drinking-song prayers as I passed them. Pretty soon, I was back in the main foyer of the house, and that’s when the thought struck me. I was floating. Could I flat out fly?

  I floated upward, phasing through the roof of Cather’s lair like a ghost, up through the city street and into Boston’s morning sky. Oh, this was so cool. Why hadn’t I ever thought to fly on the Bright Side? I certainly had the power for it. I’d have to remember that for the next time I visited. I hovered in the air for a moment, just staring out at the skyline. The sunlight reflected off the buildings, making the whole world brighter. And while I couldn’t feel the sun’s warmth, if I closed my eyes, it seemed like it should be warm; the kind of perfect warmth
that a cat feels when it naps in a patch of sunlight. The sounds of the city were muted, whether that was due to my altitude or the astral state I wasn’t sure. But it was peaceful. I felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time.

  And then I realized I wasn’t alone.

  To my left, another figure hovered in the air. His high-collared green cape billowed out in a wind I couldn’t feel, and his mask completely blanked out his eyes. The medallion on his chest gleamed in the sunlight, as did his trademark grin. Commander Courageous, my childhood hero, was floating just a few feet away. He put a gloved finger to his lips and beckoned me to follow. As we soared up into a bank of clouds, I felt the fringes of reality shudder, and I realized we’d just crossed some kind of dimensional barrier. The sky shimmered, twisted, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick. Then things stabilized again, though the sun was in a different place from when we’d set out.

  “Do you recognize this place?” Courageous asked.

  I looked around. We were hovering above a rainforest, with a lone mountain just ahead. At this height, I could clearly make out how the trees in the rainforest below had been carefully cultivated, grown in such a way that by looking on them from above, you could see the shapes of animals and odd beings that had never belonged on this earth. The mountain’s walls were unnaturally smooth, and I knew from dozens of Commander Courageous comic books that no one would be able to scale it.

  “Courage Point,” I breathed. The grin on my face was so wide it hurt. This was Commander Courageous’s sanctuary, his Sanctum, his Fortress of Solitude, his Batcave. This was where all his treasures were kept. This was where all his case files were stored, the place he went when he needed time to research, to reflect, or lead a secret meeting of the Defender Society. Fantastic discoveries, clever plans, and dramatic superhero revelations had all been made here. The nine-year-old kid in me was jumping up and down inside, begging me to ask the Commander to take us inside. I played it as cool as I could. “So, mind if I take a look?”