Evelyn gasped.
“Who is that?”
“You’ve seen him before,” I said, “though in somewhat less chaotic circumstances.”
Before us, the scene appeared thusly: Vorthan stood on a low rise approximately thirty yards from my safe house, hammer clutched in both hands, muscles rippling. On three sides, the demons pressed towards him, thwarted each time by another swing of the hammer, another gout of flame arcing out from it. Each time he struck they fell back, then quickly pushed in again, gaining a little ground each time.
The feeling had come back into my fingers, something I took as a very good sign. I considered a number of options, some more attractive than others. Most, admittedly, involved immediate flight. Finally, I looked at Evelyn. She met my eyes and held them, her gaze solid as steel. No words were needed. My options were closed out instantly.
I could not very well humiliate myself in front of this mortal woman, could I? I had to act. Even considering who it was that needed the help.
Shrugging, I stepped through the doorway.
Vorthan glanced my way, saw me, and seemed unsurprised. He said nothing, preferring to let his hammer speak for him. This time it caved in the skull of one of the dark creatures. The others crowded forward, filling the gap.
“Thanks for the assistance,” I called to him, taking a few steps in his direction. He was quite occupied, and so did not reply. I wondered if that were the only reason he said nothing.
A few seconds ticked by, as I took a couple more steps forward. Did he desire my help? Did I wish to give it?
All the while, the creatures gained more ground on him.
“Lucian,” Evelyn said, concern evident in her voice.
Nodding, I started forward again, despite my decidedly mixed feelings. By this time, Vorthan had almost disappeared from view behind the wave of attackers. Just as I reached the outer periphery of the melee, he fought his way partly free, and I finally heard his gravelly voice calling to me. He sounded remarkably calm, given the situation, revealing only a hint of strain and exhaustion.
“You might consider… returning the favor… at some point,” was all he said.
Frowning, I raised a hand before me and willed the Power to flow. Blue sparks erupted from my fingertips. The numbness was mostly gone; I felt close to normal.
The demons pushed in tighter, to the point that I lost all sight of him in the press of shapes, of bodies.
Vorthan is quite powerful and, from what I have heard over the years, generally unlikely to place himself in extreme jeopardy if it could be avoided. Yet I sensed he had perhaps gotten in over his head this time, figuratively and literally. I had never encountered demons like these; they seemed quite resilient and powerful. Perhaps he had underestimated them, or overestimated himself. I found that this thought somehow pleased me, despite the fact that Evelyn and I surely needed his help if we were to escape these creatures.
I raised both hands to waist level and allowed spheres of energy, weak at first, to drop from my fingertips, spilling to the ground. Even as I willed them to roll over the dull terrain, I fed them more power, increasing their size along with the intensity of their blue light. I could also feel additional power feeding into the spheres from elsewhere—from all around us—though that made no sense. All of these energies coming together, I realized, would allow for quite a powerful effect when I triggered it. Resolving to address my technical questions only after the enemy was defeated, I concentrated on charging the spheres to their utmost levels. When they reached the edge of the demon scrum, they insinuated in among the dark bodies, disappearing within the black and shifting mass. At the same moment, strange ebon energies rippled out from within the pile.
I caught Evelyn’s attention and gestured with my head toward the doorway behind us.
“Get back!”
Raising both fists above my head, I gritted my teeth and exerted the full measure of my power, then brought my fists down hard. In a blinding flash of blue flames, as impressive as anything I had ever managed before, the spheres exploded. The eruption shook the ground and nearly blinded us. Best of all, it hurled shredded bits of demon all about, leaving a mound of unmoving black shapes where Vorthan and our adversaries had stood.
Evelyn whistled in appreciation. “Nice,” she observed, emerging from the building. “How come you’ve never done that before?”
“Rarely do my opponents allow me the time to prepare something like that,” I replied, blinking the spots from my eyes, moving forward rapidly. “I think I was somehow able to tap into the power I expended earlier, too. The trees here siphon it up, and I was able to draw upon it, without even realizing it. A fortunate turn of events.”
I reached the periphery of the blast area and engaged in a quick inspection. Not a single living demon remained. Any that had survived the explosion must have fled. Kneeling, I examined the smooth gray ground for any residue. Nothing. After the unpleasant task of dragging several of the strangely boneless bodies out of the way and climbing over many others, I arrived near the center of the pile.
It was hollow, vacant. The formerly writhing mound of demons that had overwhelmed Vorthan now appeared like a donut, with a perfectly round, empty center. Had my blast annihilated them? Was that possible? And what of Vorthan himself?
“Well?” Evelyn called to me, after waiting for some length of time.
I crawled back out of the heap of carcasses and, grimacing, dusted myself off.
“He is not there. He must have transported himself away. Or else…”
“Or else they took him?”
“Maybe.”
I sighed, pursed my lips. A number of things nagged at the corners of my mind, but they could all wait.
“I think we need to get out of here,” I said.
I led her back to the safe house. She was doubtlessly puzzled. By this point, though, she apparently had come to trust that I knew what I was doing, even if things did not always work out for the best. I’d like to think so, anyway. But, in all honesty, what else could she do?
Entering a small room to the rear of the building, I felt with my right hand along the rough, paneled wall. Now that my body had recovered from its earlier strains, I could once more feel my hands, and thereby feel the texture of spacetime around me. Quickly a sensation developed as of something tugging at me.
“Ah. Here it is.”
I gave the empty air a small twist, as if turning a doorknob. The wall vanished, replaced by a blue, iridescent tunnel. I was somewhat amused to notice that Evelyn exhibited no surprise at this whatsoever. She had already become a veteran of interdimensional travel.
“After you,” I said.
Nodding once, she stepped through the portal, and I followed after her.
# # #
We stood at the edge of a bronze desert, beneath a vivid, purple sky.
I looked out at it, at that desert of my dreams; at its strange, alien, shifting sands, and the depths of its overwhelming emptiness. I felt strongly that it represented a metaphor for… something. For what, I had no idea. Frankly, at the moment, I didn’t much care.
Beside me, Evelyn moved through a series of stretches, extending one leg out, then the other, working out the cramps and kinks. Straightening, she ran her hand back through her hair and gazed out toward the horizon.
“We have to cross this?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I said.
Much to my surprise, Evelyn only nodded.
“Okay,” she said. And then, “I think things will begin falling into place for us on the other side.”
“Oh?” I looked at her, raising one eyebrow. “You know something? Something you’d like to share?”
“Of course not. Just wishful thinking.”
I drew back my lips into a tight smile, shading my eyes with my hand.
“Good enough.”
We started to walk.
As we traveled, I think I came to understand that desert a little better—and, perhaps, to better u
nderstand what Evelyn had meant, as well. I got a sense that if I should succeed in crossing it, and move beyond it, I would also be making some fundamental change within myself. The shape of that change, like that of the desert itself, did not immediately present itself to me. But I knew, at some fundamental, almost instinctual level, that success or failure, death or redemption—or both—lay on the far side of that sparkling expanse.
The sand shifted beneath our feet, despite the absence of wind, as if some vast creature writhed deep below the surface—or as if this world had determined to take my metaphors literally. I had visited this plane a hundred times before, and it always unnerved me, threw me off my game. Gritting my teeth, I pressed on, and Evelyn followed.
Hours passed, with only the whistling of the wind to serve as company for us. I counted the steps we had taken thus far, and worked out how much farther we had to go. Too far for my taste. Still, it beat a snowstorm or a demon horde. Resolute and determined, we pressed on.
We had made relatively good time since leaving the not-so-safe house. A brief stop at an isolated oasis I mercifully remembered revived us somewhat. We located it just as our hunger and thirst, not to mention weariness, truly caught up with us. While hardly able to partake of an ideal meal there, we did enjoy some fruits and cold, clean water, and Evelyn refilled the water bottle that was integrated into her flight suit. Then we stretched out for a brief nap. Afterward, we both felt somewhat better, and capable of continuing our journey.
Evelyn had said little since our departure from the safe house, so that when she finally spoke it startled me.
“So, what’s the goal now?”
I sighed, glancing over at her.
“What?”
“I mean, I know you’re thinking to leave me at an undisclosed location, and then go looking for ways to protect yourself—putting it generously.”
I said nothing.
“But beyond that,” she stubbornly continued, “what is the greater plan? The real goal?”
I was not certain how to answer, how much I should share with her. So:
“My original plan—-if you can call it that, generously—-was to search for evidence that indicated who framed me for the killings. But just avoiding capture—or worse—has become such an all-consuming task that we have hardly had any time to investigate. It is maddening.”
She nodded. “It makes me wonder if someone wanted it that way.”
I looked at her, arching my eyebrows, then nodded once and turned away.
After a few moments, she said, “You do have a plan in mind, though, right?”
I smiled. “Yes. Several, in fact.”
“And they include finding Cassidy and Kim.”
I nodded. “If everything works out, we should both get what we want.”
“Plans with happy endings,” she said. “I like that.”
“Oh, most of my plans feature extremely pleasant endings. Many include Baranak on his knees, begging me not to drop him into the Fountain.”
Evelyn frowned her evident disapproval.
“Oh, relax. However pleasant that scenario might be, I would probably be willing to settle for an abject apology from him. Along with a binding oath of fealty, of course.”
She looked sidewise at me and laughed. I found myself smiling, though why I could not say.
We walked on in silence. The time passed quickly. After a while, she spoke again, her voice startling me again as it broke the still silence of the desert.
“So you have a short-term plan. But what are your long-term goals?”
I blinked.
“Goals?”
“What you want to accomplish. Where you’re going. Does being a god—or whatever—preclude you from having goals?”
She moved to where she could look back at my face.
“Has anyone ever asked you that?”
I looked down, avoiding her gaze.
“Once,” I whispered.
She backed off for a moment, obviously surprised by my response, but I could tell she was not satisfied.
We trudged on for a bit, the broken ends of the conversation hanging like tangible objects between us.
“I’m trying to come to grips with you, with all of this,” she finally said, gesturing to the bronze desert around us, the bright violet sky overhead. “I think it would help if I simply understood you a little better.”
I frowned, uncertain of where she was going with this, and found myself hoping she would change the subject. Instead, inevitably, she seemed to warm to it.
“I’ve been thinking about all of this,” she said. “Does extreme longevity remove the imperative to get anything accomplished?”
I tried to wrap my weary brain around that one.
“Oh,” I finally said. “You’re asking if immortals procrastinate a lot.”
“Right,” she said. “Because there’s always tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and you don’t ever have to be in a hurry.”
I shrugged.
“That depends on the individual, I think. We’re all pretty different.”
She considered that.
“Maybe it seems that way to you,” she said at last, “but, from what I’ve seen, I think there are more similarities among you than you realize.”
I frowned at that, and said nothing more for a time.
The desert passed beneath us, step blending into step, mile into mile. Her voice, when she spoke again, startled me out of a sort of waking dream.
“Hasn’t anyone ever asked you what it is you really want from your immortal life and your immense power?”
I blinked, glancing back at her.
“Yes. But not in a very long time.”
“Well then—what are your goals?”
“To rule. To conquer the Golden City and make it my own.”
She stared at me, blank-faced. Absurdly, I felt somewhat uncomfortable.
“That’s it?” she said.
I stared back at her, feeling at least as bewildered as she seemed.
“The Golden City,” I repeated. Could she not understand that? I hadn’t said I wanted to conquer the Terran Alliance, or carve out my own empire among the Outer Worlds—though those prospects had seemed quite attractive, very recently, now a lifetime ago. I was talking about the Golden City! She had seen it. She had walked its streets, albeit not under the most ideal of conditions for appreciating its beauty, its glory. But still—!
“And,” she continued, “to mete out some sort of revenge against all those you feel have wronged you over the years, right?”
“Exactly!” Now she seemed to be getting it!
But instead she only shook her head.
“You’re a god, you say. You have the power to do so many things. During your exile, when you say you had almost no power aside from longevity, you still managed great things. Have you forgotten all of that so quickly?”
I was overcome with frustration, and became aware that I was grinding my teeth together.
“The Golden City,” I repeated yet again, this time with a weak and halting voice. Did that not answer everything? Why couldn’t she understand?
“And then what?”
I frowned. “Pardon?”
“After the conquering and the vengeance? Then what will you do? I mean, this is an immortal lifespan we’re talking about, right? So—what then?”
I paused, thinking. I did not want to admit to myself that I had not devoted terribly much effort to considering such a time. The pursuit of victory in the City had consumed my thoughts for longer than I cared to remember. Finally, I hit on an answer.
“I reign,” I said, firmly.
“You reign.”
“Yes.”
“That’s it.”
“Yes. I reign in the Golden City, and a new age sweeps across the universes.”
She frowned, bit her lip, and looked away.
For reasons entirely unknown to me, I felt more hurt by that reaction than by anything I had experienced in centuries.
My stomach twisted, turned upside down. I felt nauseous. Had I caught some sort of illness? What illness could possibly affect me? My confusion and my indignation were enormous.
“That’s so sad,” she said then.
My determination, my utter, driving convictions, began to melt away at that precise moment. Had I been deluding myself all this time? Had all my dreams and ambitions truly been so weak and shallow? The Golden City! But as I talked of capturing and ruling that perfect, idyllic place, this woman—this mortal—looked at me as if she were embarrassed for me!
This aggravation could not stand.
“Well,” I said to her then, “what are your goals? What does a mortal woman in the service of a corrupt interstellar empire seek from her life?”
She frowned, and some bit of hope swelled within me that perhaps I had turned the tables on her.
“Personal happiness… Professional fulfillment…” She shrugged. “I suppose I want to rise to the top of the ranks in the Terran Navy.”
“And then you will be satisfied? Merely with the rank, the title? With the uniform on your back and the insignia on your sleeve?”
“What?”
“If you were to achieve the rank of Admiral in your fleet, but then you died before anyone ever saluted you or before you ever commanded a single vessel, would you still feel satisfied, as if you had achieved your goal?”
She gazed off into the distance.
“…No… I suppose not.”
“Then your goal is not to become an admiral. Your goal is to command a fleet, to issue orders to vast numbers of intelligent, well-trained individuals—and to be obeyed. To have power and glory at your fingertips and at your command.”
Her voice was soft. “That’s not quite how I’ve ever thought about it,” she said. “Power and glory have never been that big with me.”
“Then your goal,” I said, “is merely to drive your spacecraft around a brief while, until age and death claim you. How thrilling.”
She glared at me. I looked away quickly, somewhat surprised not to feel the thrill of rhetorical victory I had expected. Far from exposing her self-delusions and conceits, it felt as if I had only rubbed her nose in some deeper truth better left quietly ignored. She could not help that she was not born one of us. What right had I to taunt her with that fact, with the knowledge of what she was being denied? And, given what she had said to me moments earlier, I felt as though I were the bigger fool, perhaps wasting a far greater opportunity on mere vanity. Damn it all, these were not thoughts I needed to be entertaining as I prepared to confront my adversaries! Who had brought this whole topic up, anyhow?
Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (The Above Book 1) Page 13
