Clockwork Asylum

by Jak Koke

Then it would all have been for nothing.

  Ryan felt the Dragon Heart's power wane inside him. With it, his desire to possess the artifact faded as well.

  Ryan looked out the window at the beautiful sunshine.

  "Don't worry, Dunkelzahn, you're going to get your way, as usual. Even dead, you're still going to get your way. But there's a difference this time, you bastard. I'm not doing this for you anymore. I'm not doing this for some holy crusade to save the fragging world either. I'm doing this for me, Dunkelzahn. You hear me? I'm going to finish this thing for me, and for everything and everyone I hold dear."

  Ryan smiled to himself. "But you knew that, didn't you, old wyrm? You knew this would be the only way I'd take on the mission. By making it my own."

  Ryan carefully set the Dragon Heart back on its velvet bed, and watched the breeze gently rock the blinds. "Be at peace, you old lizard."

  Ryan smiled, as a single tear fell from his eye to be quickly absorbed in the bandages on his face. "I miss you."

  42

  The steady drizzle of rain spread a glossy sheen over the mirrored glass skyscrapers of Wonderland City. Alice brooded, her head bent as she watched the ground, seeing the reflection of the buildings in the shiny black of the street.

  She stopped suddenly, taking a long drag from her cigarette. She gave up, admitting to herself that she didn't know what to do. I need outside counsel.

  Wonderland placed the call for her.

  "Hello?" came the man's voice, remarkably alert considering what he had been through. And his image came on-line. White bandages covered his head and face, though his silver-flecked blue eyes shone like glittering jewels.

  "Ryan," Alice said. "Are you all right?"

  "I've seen better days."

  "I need your advice."

  "You need my advice?"

  "I don't know what to do with Rox."

  "What have you done already?"

  Alice told him about locking Roxborough in Wonderland, about torturing him with his own disease, and when she was finished, Ryan sank back into the pillows of the bed he was in.

  "I know exactly what to do," he said. "The only thing worse than anything you've already done.

  "What?"

  "Let him go," he said.

  "What? Ryan, are you insane?"

  "Send him back to his miserable life."

  "But. . ." Alice couldn't believe that Ryan of all people would want Rox released.

  "Think about it, Alice. He hates his life, hates being trapped in the Matrix. It's his clockwork asylum. A mechanical prison of his own creation. All I want is to make sure he doesn't continue his spirit-transfer experiments, and you've already wiped that data."

  "I also had his head scientist transferred to Saeder-Krupp."

  Ryan laughed. "Perfect."

  Alice was silent for a few minutes. She took a drag from her cigarette as she thought about it. Maybe Ryan was right. Roxborough would never be happy unless he was in a physical body, and Alice had taken away his ability to do that. At least for many years.

  She looked at Ryan. "All right, I'll let him go. I know his system inside and out now, and I've riddled it with back doors for myself. He'll never be able to lock me out unless he isolates himself so completely that he's totally alone."

  "He hates being alone more than anything."

  "Exactly."

  "Glad I could be of help," Ryan said.

  "Perhaps I can return the favor."

  "What do you mean?"

  Alice had not meant to share her knowledge of Ryan's mission, but she owed him, and Alice made a point of repaying her debts generously. She had accidentally misled him with the bogus Damien Knight information, and she wanted to make up for that. From what Alice knew, which was almost everything, Ryan's mission was far from over, and it was going to get a lot more dan-gerous very soon. He could use all the help he could get.

  "Just be cautious, Ryan. There is data to indicate that Dunkelzahn and Harlequin were long-time associates, perhaps friends, perhaps enemies. Going way back.

  "Alice, how do you know this?"

  "Ryan, come on, I have access to nearly every source of information in the cybersphere. Harlequin is very powerful and quite possibly a long-time enemy of the dragon. He's high on my current list of assassination suspects."

  Ryan shuddered. "Thanks for the warning, Alice, but I need to ask his help. Dunkelzahn specified it."

  "I know," Alice said. "I just wanted you to go in with your eyes open."

  "I appreciate it."

  "Get some rest, Ryan Mercury. You'll need it."

  Ryan leaned back in his bed. "I'll do that," he said, "Give my best to Roxborough. I just wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes you've wiped all his data."

  "I'll record it for you," Alice said. Then she disconnected and felt a thrill of excitement race over her skin as she thought about Rox's reaction. She was anticipating the joy Rox would feel when he found himself back in his own system. Home. And then the severe disappointment that followed when he realized that his hopes for escape from the Matrix were crushed.

  Alice smiled the Cheshire grin of the Cat, jumping up and down in excitement. This is going to be so much fun.

  MEMO

  FROM: JANE-IN-THE-BOX TO: NADJA DAVIAR DATE: 20 AUGUST 2057 RE:

  THE LEGEND OF THAYLA

  Dunkelzahn's histitute of Magical Research just unearthed this document. Thought you'd be interested.

  Text follows:

  Ages ago, before written memory began, lived a queen of great beauty and even greater heart. Thayla reigned over a rich green valley nestled between two mountain ranges that rose like spikes into the heavens.

  Under her rule, the land she loved prospered, and her people lived their days in joy.

  Each morning Thayla greeted the rising sun with a Song. She sang in a voice as clear as the air and as bright as the great burning orb itself. Nothing foul or dark could prosper in her land, for her voice was too pure for such abominations to bear.

  One night an army of dark creatures made to enter the valley, seeking to overrun the prosperous land and cor-rupt it with their vile presence. Thayla rose that morning as she always did, and upon seeing the black army, sang. Her voice filled the valley with power and hope.

  The evil horde, shown the depravity of their existence by her voice, had no choice but to flee. And as they did—running and flying with wild abandon for refuge beyond the valley—one black soldier slowed and, for the briefest of moments, listened to Thayla's Song.

  Days passed, and the terrible army remained beyond the valley, fearful of the Song. Finally, driven by their dark mas-ters, they surged forward again. And again Thayla sang.

  As before the foul creatures fell back blindly, unable to stand even a few pure notes of her voice. But again the lone, tall warrior with hair and eyes of dark fire lin-gered and listened, if only for a few moments, before fleeing the valley.

  The next time the creatures approached Thayla's domain, less of the army came. The rest were unable to marshal the will needed to enter the valley. But again, the lone dark soldier fell back last, so that he could hear her Song.

  Finally, not one of the black army would come. Not even the terrible threats of their vile masters could push them forward. But still a single warrior in ebony and red armor would slip into the valley before each dawn and listen, and after a time, watch as well.

  The black figure advanced to where he could see Thayla standing high upon the terraces of the great sprawling city that surrounded her palace. And he would watch her every morning as she rose and greeted the new day with the Song. And as he listened, blood flowed from his ears and his skin blistered from the powerful purity of her voice, but he would not turn aside. He would not flee from her Song. And so he stood, listened, and watched.

  Then one night, the dark warrior slipped into the city as Thayla slept. He crept into her citadel, sat at the foot of her bed and watched her.

  When she woke and fou
nd him there, she called for her guards, but none were strong enough to move the dark warrior. She called her sorcerers, but none were wise enough to banish him. She sang to drive him away, but though his body and spirit were wracked with pain, he stood strong and firm, enraptured by her beauty.

  Unable to drive him away, the great Queen Thayla decided to ignore him. Though he stood at her side, she ate without speaking to him. Though he ran along-side as she took her horses out for exercise, she did not look at him. And though he stood silently nearby as she slept, she did not acknowledge his presence.

  Each morning she would rise and greet the sun, singing loud and strong so that the dark army waiting beyond the valley could not enter. And each morning he stood beside her and cried tears of blood and fire at the pain and joy her voice gave him.

  And so this went on for some time. Thayla slept, sang, and performed her royal duties. But the black warrior stayed at her side, and slowly the land began to darken from his presence. The animals of the field sick-ened, as did the people. The crops would not grow, and dark and terrible clouds filled the sky over the valley.

  Thayla knew the black soldier was the cause of all these things, and so she asked him to leave. He did not even answer her. She tried to trick him into leaving, but he would not be fooled. Then she tried to force him away, but he could not be broken. Finally, she begged him to leave.

  "But I do not wish to leave," he replied. These were the first words he had ever spoken to her, and his voice was like dried leaves blown on the autumn wind. "Your beauty is like none I have ever seen."

  "But you cannot stay," she told him. "Your presence is destroying my land and my people."

  "I care not for your land or its people," the warrior told her. "I care only for you."

  Faced with his determination, Thayla wept. Slowly her people died. Finally, she called her greatest advi-sors together and told them what they must do.

  "As you know, the presence of the dark warrior is destroying our land and our people," she said.

  "However, he will not leave my side. We cannot make him leave, and so I must leave the land and take him with me."

  Her advisors wailed at her words. "But you cannot! It is only your voice that holds the black army at bay! If you leave, we will certainly die!"

  Thayla nodded, for she knew this to be true, but said, "I will leave, but my voice will remain." And with that she charged her most powerful sorcerers with the task of placing her voice in a songbird that would greet the rising sun each morning as she had.

  They searched the land and found the finest song-bird of all. And as the sun rose, they performed the ritual.

  When the first light appeared the next morn, the bird sang with Thayla's Voice, and the Song held the dark army at bay.

  The sorcerers rejoiced at this, but when they turned to congratulate Thayla, she and her dark shadow had gone. They searched the land but could find neither of them.

  But the Songbird rose each morning. And with a voice as pure as the clear air itself, it sang the Song, and the black army trembled in its tracks, unable to enter the valley.

  COPYRIGHT

  ROC

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England First published by Roc, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.

  First Printing, November, 1997

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  Series Editor: Donna Ippolito Legend of Thayla: Tom Dowd Cover art: Doug Anderson p|?3 REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

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