Fractures

by Olivo, Nicholas

  “Of cour—”

  I shot forward, zipping toward the balcony entrance thousands of feet above the ground. I landed softly and stared at the great bronze door, made to look like the amulet that gave Commander Courageous his powers. There have been half a dozen Commander Courageous movies made, and while they did a decent job of capturing the level of detail that this door should have, they all paled in comparison to the real thing. The carvings in the door showed horrible beasts, many of which were also depicted on the ground below, engaged in battle with lone warriors. There must have been hundreds of them, all terrifying, all being challenged by a single individual with the courage to stand up to them. That was what Commander Courageous was all about. Overcoming fear, turning it back as a weapon against itself.

  I touched the door reverently, feeling like I was on holy ground. It was cool, despite the sun’s warmth, and gave off a faint hum of energy. It wasn’t a frightening hum, the hum of millions of volts of electricity waiting to fry you, but a confident hum, one that somehow reminded me of the humming kobolds back home. It was reassuring.

  The door was amazing, but if what was beyond it was anything like what I was expecting, it would be the geekout of a lifetime. I pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge. So I tried to Open it. Imagine my surprise when I, a god with the domain of doors, was unable to make this one obey me. That brought me up short. One of my innate powers is total control over doors. Locks and security systems are nothing to me, and in all my life, there hasn’t been a single one I couldn’t Open. Until now.

  Courageous landed on the balcony, his cape still swirling out behind him despite the lack of wind, and gave me his trademark grin. I regarded him, taking in every detail of his outfit; the crimson shirt and matching boots, the emerald pants and gloves. Commander Courageous was a study in red and green. His eye mask was black, and it stood out against the faint wisps of gray at his temples. The mask blanked out his eyes, but I knew that he didn’t miss a thing.

  He grinned at my attempts to gain entry to his sanctum. “C’mon, Vincent, you know better than that,” he said. Courageous reached out and touched the door, which immediately swung open. In the comics, only someone with the amulet could enter Courage Point. Well, only someone with the amulet or someone Commander Courageous had specifically set parameters to allow in. There was an arc where Courageous had to leave our universe for a time, so he left Courage Point in the care of Ms. Infinity, his on-again off-again love interest, and she—

  “As wonderful as the view is, Vincent, we don’t have time for you to stay on the balcony all day,” Courageous called. I blinked. I hadn’t even realized he’d walked past me and into the chamber beyond. I took three steps and stopped dead as the door quietly snapped shut behind me. I was in Courage Point. Courage Point! The secret lair of one of the world’s greatest superheroes. Any sense of propriety left me as I raced around the room, looking at the various trophies and gadgets. Here was one of Señor Fear’s whips. Here was a petrified dinosaur egg, which Dr. Graymatter had used to recreate an army of T-Rexes. There was the ring Ms. Infinity had given him, still hanging on an unbreakable silver chain. Over here was the broken axe of Sir Deathblow, a madman who’d believed he was descended from King Arthur. On the far wall was—

  Courageous sighed, but he smiled. “Are you done yet? I appreciate this is all fascinating and fun, but the Astral won’t last forever, and you and I have a lot to discuss.”

  “Remaining Astral duration, eighteen minutes, thirty seconds,” a synthesized female voice said.

  “Wow,” I whispered. “Alexis sounds just like I imagined her.” Alexis, Commander Courageous’s AI, often tracked important information and ran computer analysis for him. She wasn’t introduced until the early 1950s, but the writers had made her such an integral part of Courageous’s world that it’s nearly impossible to imagine a story without her. Her voice came from a massive computer screen at the far wall. It was easily nine feet wide and four feet tall. I always wondered how Courageous managed to look at the thing without giving himself a headache.

  “Yes, and Alexis is reminding us that the clock is ticking. I need you to focus.”

  Right, I was here on business. I made an effort to concentrate. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “We need to talk about what happened when Daimin renounced you, why that event suddenly started letting you think clearly. Or at least clearer.”

  “You said that it retroactively deducted faith reserves from me,” I said. “That it not only took away the faith he was then giving me, but all the faith he had ever given me.”

  Courageous nodded and gestured for me to take a seat at the Defender’s Society table. Ten high-backed chairs ringed a circular table, each one bearing the insignia of one of the Society members. Ms. Infinity’s purple and gold infinity symbol was on the chair next to Courageous, and on his other side was a chair with a Colonial American flag emblazoned on it, which belonged to The Patriot. I took a seat kitty-cornered to Courageous, realizing I was in Professor Brymstone’s seat. It was hard to not feel somewhat awed at being in the chair belonging to one of the greatest scientific and magical minds the comic book universe had ever created.

  Courageous was oblivious to my moment of fandom, or perhaps he just chose to ignore it. “Yes, but it’s more than that. When you have worshippers, you receive their strengths. You get all their knowledge, all their experience, all their powers. But there’s a cost to that. You become fixed. Inflexible. Unable to change or grow.”

  I must’ve had a blank look on my face, because Courageous shook his head in frustration. “How your followers see you, what they perceive you to be, is what you have to become. Think about it like this. Aphrodite is a bitch, but she’s beautiful. Hephaestus doesn’t have good people skills, but he can forge anything. Zeus is all about power, but he’s a cheating bastard. When they were being actively worshipped, people tended to gravitate toward gods that they identified with. So while the gods gained power, they also got stuck in their behaviors, because that was how their worshippers expected them to behave.”

  “So you’re saying that Aphrodite can’t stop being a bitch because her worshippers kept her that way? That seems like a stretch. And besides, I’m not aware of any active worship for her today. Nothing significant, anyway.”

  “No significant worship, true,” Courageous said, holding up a finger. “But every student who studies mythology, every child who watches a Disney movie with them as characters, every teenager who plays a video game that involves them reinforces who they are. It’s better than faith, Vincent. In faith, you have to believe a god is capable of something. With knowledge, you don’t have to believe, it just is. That’s the level of power they have, but at the same time, they have to behave that way because people’s faith or knowledge won’t let it be any other way. Most of Zeus’s followers were bastards themselves, and Hephaestus’s followers lacked people skills. Those negative traits were reinforced, and conducted onto the gods. The same thing happened with you and the Urisk.”

  I blinked. “That doesn’t make any sense. If what you’re saying were true, it would imply the Urisk are reckless and act without thinking things through. They’re not like that. They’re a gentle, hospitable people, not an aggressive bone in any of their bodies.”

  “And that’s never struck you as odd?” Courageous shook his head. “No, of course it hasn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at it like this, Vincent. Trolls and hobgoblins evolved to have thick hides and destructive magics; perfect complements for warrior races. Brownies and kobolds developed little tricks like turning invisible and how to work precious metals, skills they used to hide from predators and bribe stronger creatures into protecting them. Now, think about the Urisk. You’re right, they’re a gentle, hospitable people who keep to themselves and never trouble anyone. And yet, they can lift dozens o
f times their weight with telekinesis, immolate matter with pyrokinesis, and are highly telepathic, to the point where they can mentally dominate other creatures. Think hard. Are any of those talents logically in line with what a people like the Urisk should have developed?”

  Well, he had me there. “What are you getting at? People have an appendix, that’s not used for anything.”

  “An organ that has outlived its usefulness is a bit different from being able to crush another being’s heart using only the power of your mind,” Courageous said. “Answer the question. Does it make any sense for the Urisk to have those powers?”

  “Fourteen minutes,” Alexis said.

  “No,” I replied. “It doesn’t. So why do they have them? And what does this have to do with my being unable to think?” Some things weren’t lining up here. “And if gods take on the personality traits of their followers, why aren’t I a meek kitten? If that were true, I wouldn’t be able to fight any better than they can.”

  Courageous’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Excellent, you’re asking the right questions. And we’re getting to it. One at a time. Let’s start with the personality bit. Part of it is that you and the Urisk are different species. Remember how Lotholio couldn’t telepathically communicate with you until he started worshipping you? Something about the human psyche is blocked to the Urisk. As a result, their behaviors don’t directly map to your own. In fact, it’s because the Urisk don’t exhibit aggressive behavior anymore that you do.”

  “Anymore? The Urisk have never exhibited aggressive behavior.”

  “Not while you’ve known them,” Courageous replied. “But before that? Before that, the Urisk were the most feared beings in the universe. They were the boogeymen of so many species your head would explode. Even to this day, in some realms in the very distant corners of reality, parents frighten their children with tales of the Urisk to keep them in line.”

  I snorted. “Sorry, Commander, but I have to call bullshit on that. An entire species just doesn’t go from being feared to passive doormats overnight.”

  Courageous’s face was grim. “They do if they’re lobotomized.”

  “What?”

  “The being that oversaw the Urisk before you. Karlegon. He did that. That and more.”

  “Ten minutes,” Alexis said.

  “Dammit, we don’t have enough time.” Courageous held out his hand. “Grab on. I’m going to trigger your Glimpse so you can see what I’m talking about.”

  I reached for his hand. “How are you going to—” Courageous’s gloved hand grasped mine, and a surge of energy rushed through me. My Glimpse snapped on, vibrant and clear as if I were watching a movie in HD. Unlike normal Glimpses, where I can only see a fraction of the surroundings, this was almost like being there. I could see for miles, could practically feel the warmth of the twin suns on my face. This was a Glimpse cranked up to eleven.

  “We can’t be seen or heard while we’re like this,” Courageous said. “And please don’t make the Christmas Carol reference you’re thinking right now.”

  Damn, how did he know? I’d been so distracted by the geeky goodness that was Courage Point, and then caught off guard by Courageous’s line of questioning that it hadn’t occurred to me to ask him who he really was, how he’d gotten the medallion that belonged to a comic book hero, and how he knew so much about me and how I thought. Once we were out of this overclocked Glimpse, I was going to get some answers.

  “For you to understand who the Urisk are now, you need to appreciate who they once were. We’re on a remote corner of the Bright Side right now.” Courageous pointed to a settlement made up of stone houses. The construction was sturdy, if a bit on the simple side. “This is a village of dwarves. Their leader opposes a warlord who’s trying to impose his will over this realm.”

  That surprised me. “Dwarves? I’ve never seen dwarves on the Bright Side.”

  Courageous’s mouth was a grim line. “And you’re about to see why.”

  A purple-skinned man materialized on the outskirts of the village. He was about six feet tall, and his silver hair hung over his shoulder in a loose braid. He wore dark pants and boots, and a coat that was part trench coat, part cloak—a trenchcloak. The trenchcloak billowed out behind him in a breeze I couldn’t feel. The man held a small bit of crystal up to his mouth, and his voice boomed as he spoke.

  “People of Goldhammer Village,” he called. His voice was familiar. It sounded a lot like the one I’d heard in Ashgate the other day. “I have been patient. This is your final chance. I beg you, reconsider your position. Accept my law. Cast out your criminals and sinners, submit them to my judgment so that you may enjoy the peace and prosperity that I have made possible for many other peoples in many other realms.”

  A small group of dwarves wearing stoles appeared from one of the houses. “Our position is final.” The speaker wore a small golden hammer on a chain around his neck. Some symbol of office, maybe? “What you call law is a mockery of everything we hold dear. You are arrogant for assuming you know what is best for all people. We have done nothing to you or yours, and wish to be left alone. We have no desire for further dealings with you.” The dwarf’s body language had the look of someone who was making a last ditch effort at diplomacy before resorting to violence.

  The purple man shook his head. There was genuine sadness on his face. “You must see how you are wrong,” he said, the crystal amplifying his voice. “Under my law, people are safe. They are cared for. No one suffers at the hands of criminals. I—”

  “Be gone,” the dwarf leader said. “Or else things will get hostile.”

  The purple man regarded the leader. He turned his gaze to the rest of the dwarves. “Does he speak for all of you?” There were somber nods and ‘ayes’ from the other dwarves.

  “I see.” The purple man said, a tinge of regret in his voice. “I see that you are part of the problem. I will remove you, and then your people can be safe.”

  The purple man snapped his fingers. From out of nowhere, Urisk flooded the village. I felt extradimensional energy flare all around me as twenty of them materialized into being. They wore black suits that shimmered as they moved, making me think the suits were more like liquid than cloth. The Urisk strike force, because that was the only thing they could be, immediately set about killing the dwarf diplomats. It took less than a second for three Urisk to immolate them with pyrokinesis, leaving nothing but shadows scorched on the side of a nearby building.

  “Break the village,” the purple-skinned man called out. “It is corrupted. Drive out any who would defy my law.”

  The Urisk began leveling the village. Several of them threw out their arms, palms out toward the buildings, and the structures shook, cracked, and began to collapse. Others wove pyrokinesis, sending blasts of flame corkscrewing through the air to destroy buildings and burn crops. And then, dwarf defenders charged out from the buildings, howling a battle cry.

  It was like watching a scene from a Peter Jackson movie, with dozens of dwarves effortlessly forming into ranks as they ran. Clad in mail and wielding shining metal axes, the dwarves surged forward so fast and hard that it sounded like a rolling wave of thunder charging toward us. They were burly, tough-looking, and moved with the dreadful purpose of people defending their homes, their very lives, from utter destruction. They were prepared for an all out battle.

  And they didn’t stand a chance against the Urisk.

  When the first wave of dwarves was about forty feet from the Urisk, the dwarves jolted, dropped their weapons, and clutched at their chests. I sensed the telekinesis and knew that the Urisk strike team had crushed their hearts. The second wave of dwarves jumped and dashed around their fallen brethren, murder in their eyes. Pyrokinesis immolated them in the blink of an eye. One moment, a group of raging dwarves was charging at the Urisk. In the next moment, there was a fla
sh of intense light and heat, and then armor-clad skeletons staggered forward, momentum carrying them another step or two before they crumbled to ash.

  The final wave charged over the fallen and through the cloud of ash, their faces etched with grim determination. This group was even more heavily armored, elaborate runes carved into their gleaming plate mail. Those first two waves had been cannon fodder and they’d known it. They’d sacrificed their own lives to give the heavy hitters here time to suit up and take a crack at the Urisk.

  The runes flared green and gold as the Urisk telekinesis struck and harmlessly dissipated. Pyrokinetic energy was absorbed, the runes glowing brightly as they channeled the psychic energy away. One Urisk rubbed his chin as he regarded the advancing line of dwarves, who were charging forward, singing a battle hymn. I did a double take when I realized I was looking at Lotholio. My future priest’s eyes were bright and shining with a mixture of excitement and joy. He was actually enjoying the challenge of this battle. Enjoying the killing.

  Lotholio pointed at the dwarf in the center of the line, and he stopped singing. He hefted his axe and spun in a circle, beheading the two dwarves closest to him. The dwarves’ armor was enchanted against fire and force, but not against mental domination. Lotholio had taken control of his mind and was now a homicidal puppet master, willing the dwarf to kill his friends and comrades. The dwarf was aware of what he was doing, and it sounded like he was shouting warnings to his comrades, but other Urisk had taken their cue from Lotholio and took possession of the other dwarves. Soon, they were pitting them against one another, like kids playing with Rock-em Sock-em robots.