“I told you,” I said to him, gesturing towards the cave mouth, “that was not the way back to Victoria.”
“My mistake,” he replied with a nod.
“Very much so.”
Istari was now regarding me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. The surprise was still there, but perhaps some measure of respect, as well. Then again, perhaps I was only imagining that part. Wishful thinking.
“Well,” he said. “The Watcher in the Warp must’ve been quite taken with you.”
“That’s his name? Interesting fellow. We had quite a little conversation.”
“Did you?” He sprang up onto his horse and then looked at me sidelong. “About what, might I ask?”
“Several topics. You, for one.”
This seemed to rattle him, if only for an instant. That was twice in less than a minute that I’d shaken him up. I found it a pleasant feeling.
“And what did the Watcher have to say about me?”
“Good things, good things—for the most part,” I replied.
“Oh?”
“At least, from my perspective.”
I retrieved Comet. He seemed a bit agitated. I stroked his side as I turned back to Istari.
The alien seemed even more agitated than Comet.
“Give me an example,” he said.
I gazed into his dark eyes and grinned. “He said you had the answers I seek.”
Istari darkened. “He is a—”
“A liar?” I interrupted him. “Funny—that’s what he called you.” I chuckled. “You can probably guess which of you I assign greater credibility.”
He made another facial expression I couldn’t read.
As I assumed we were about to travel again, I climbed onto Comet. Then I looked back at Istari. He had turned his gaze to the cave and was frowning.
“Are you a Dyonari?” I asked.
He turned sharply and looked at me, hesitated, then nodded his head once. “The one in the cave used that term, did he?”
“Yes.”
Istari pursed his thin lips, then nodded. “That is what my people are called.”
His dark horse began to move, slowly circling around Comet and me. As he traveled, his expression changed once again—at this point I could practically feel him evaluating and reevaluating me, his opinion morphing continuously.
“Perhaps,” he said after a few seconds of silent inspection. “Perhaps you could be the one I seek, after all.”
“The one you seek?”
His horse halted directly in front of me.
“That is how I came to be in the state in which you found me, restrained and tortured. I did not approve of the plans or actions of my associates, and they did not approve of my objections or my counterproposals.”
“I’m going to need to know a lot more about what you and they were up to before any of that will make sense to me.”
“All in good time,” he replied. “But know this much for now: I had a vision.”
“A vision.”
“Yes. A clear view of a possible future. We of my kind experience these on very rare occasions. And with the vision came a voice.”
“Okay,” I said, waiting, my expression neutral.
“A voice from the aether. It came to me some time ago, back when all was well and I was working quite happily and contentedly alongside my brethren. It told me that, quite simply, I was on the wrong side of history. That the activities that my associates and I were engaged in were wrong. And it instructed me to travel to your moon of Victoria, where all would be laid out for me; all that would happen in the days to come. And all that I must do.”
“And you believed this voice?”
“I did and I do.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my own voice.”
This took me aback. But after everything else I’d experienced of late, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. “I see,” I told him.
“The voice also said that one would come—one whose destiny is written across all time and space. A destiny too great, too large to be contained in a single lifetime. One to whom I would not be worthy to wash his feet.”
“Interesting,” I observed. The wheels in my mind were turning now.
He continued to gaze levelly back at me.
“And you believe I am that person?” I asked.
For a second he didn’t move, didn’t blink. Then he looked away. “I seriously doubt it,” he said. “But the Watcher obviously found you worth leaving alive. That tells me something.” He didn’t look back at me as he added, “You might at least be useful.”
I nodded. I resolved to leave it at that for the moment. “So,” I said. “What now?”
He made a gesture that might’ve been some sort of alien shrug. “Now? Now we storm the Gates.”
FIVE
“A sword?”
I was staring at Istari the Renegade wide-eyed, attempting to process what he had just said.
“We have to retrieve a sword?” I asked again.
“Just so.” He appeared to think for a moment, then, “It will be extremely dangerous. You must be prepared for the possibility of agonizing death.”
I stared back at him and slowly shook my head. “A sword. A sword is the thing we need most. What in the Seven Worlds have I gotten myself into?”
Moments earlier, the alien I had freed from captivity had decreed what our first order of business would be— “That is,” he’d added, “if you do wish to work together to solve both your problems and mine.”
“Yes,” I’d replied. I’d felt it represented the best and perhaps the only opportunity I had left. “We are in agreement. You help me find those responsible for my father’s death, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you against your enemies.”
“Very well,” Istari had said. He’d coaxed his dark horse forward at a canter, and I aboard Comet had followed. “Our first order of business is to retrieve a weapon—the single most important weapon in the galaxy. The one weapon with which we can track down, reach, and if necessary kill our mutual enemies. No matter where in this cosmos they hide—or in any other.”
That had gotten my attention. I’d looked at him. “That sounds impressive. What sort of firearm are we talking about?”
He’d offered the faintest of smiles, then looked away. “Why, it is no firearm at all,” he said.
“Then what—?”
“It is a sword.”
Thus my exclamation previously described, which brings us up to date.
“How,” I asked after I had managed to calm myself a bit, “Can a mere sword do the things you are describing?”
“It is no ‘mere’ sword. It is ancient.” He met my eyes as our two horses carried us along. “Older than your species. Likely older than mine, too. It must go back at least as far into the past as the Machine itself.”
“The Machine?”
He chuckled and looked away again. “Another time,” he said. “This galaxy is a vast and ancient place, filled with wonders and terrors in equal measure—about most of which your kind remains blissfully unaware. Let us not needlessly add to your already formidable list of things you must quickly learn.”
I swallowed that comment without reply, instead considering the larger problem. “If this weapon is as powerful as you say, let us go back to Victoria, so that I might gather a regiment of my family’s troops to help us secure it,” I suggested.
“There is no time and less need,” Istari snapped. “Udasi the Judge, my jailer whom you followed here, made the mistake of speaking aloud in my presence his destination after leaving my prison—as well as the fact that the one he will be meeting, Elendi the Mastermind, is currently in possession of the sword.” He grinned, and the look of it actually sent chills down my spine. “I therefore know the current location of the sword. I also know they and it will be there for but a short time. After they depart that place, it could be anywhere in the multiverse.”
“I see,” I said, though I wasn’t
at all certain I did.
“Let us move with greater alacrity,” he added. “Too much time has been wasted.”
And whose fault is that, I wanted to ask—but I kept my mouth shut and encouraged Comet to pick up the pace.
We rode on without further conversation for a short while; no sounds came to us but the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves. I watched with interest as the terrain around me changed and morphed slowly. Fog drifted in, very similar to what had engulfed me on my journey from Victoria. It enshrouded us and produced a tunnel effect, with the two of us traveling down its center. This reassured me somewhat for I took it to mean we were actually journeying between worlds, rather than this being another case of my companion attempting to trick me, as he had done with the cave.
Crosswinds struck then, whipping into us from right to left. Before I could so much as express my surprise aloud, the temperature plunged. Frost formed on my extremities. Around us, the swirling colors darkened in sinister fashion and lightning strobed on either side.
“Faster,” I could just hear Istari crying, though he was scarcely two lengths ahead. “Faster!”
Comet scarcely needed encouragement on that score. He galloped.
Still the storm around us intensified, sheets of rain like tiny daggers jabbing my face and hands. My golden metal mesh tunic provided little in the way of insulation; I was growing damned cold. My breath was a cloud quickly whooshed behind me, gone.
The black horse was really moving now. We fell behind. I had to be quite persuasive with Comet to keep him close on the black beast’s tail. We moved at breakneck speed, the tunnel of fog streaking by all around. It twisted and turned and rose and fell as we went, to the point that I felt I’d climbed aboard some ancient roller coaster. A mix of bright and dark colors streaked past within the swirling depths. I ignored it all and urged my mount to ever greater speed.
Through gaps in the fog I could just make out images—strange vistas and even stranger inhabitants of those vistas. I believe I saw a wooden windmill, juxtaposed a moment later with a building that floated over a broad, forested plain. A squadron of aircraft flew past on my left hand, and a battalion of tanks rumbled by on my right. Explosions, excursions and all that. Comet flinched repeatedly and I worried that his nerve would fail. Still we pressed on.
And then it was over. The clouds around us parted and dispersed. The lights and colors faded and vanished and I could see solid ground beneath Comet’s feet again. Istari reined in his horse and I did the same. He hopped down and I followed.
We stood on a desolate, wind-swept surface—and quickly I saw that it was a cliff, projecting out over rough seas. There was no sun to speak of, though some sort of pale light just managed to illuminate the surroundings. I turned away from the drop off and the waters and saw another cliff face there, leading up into the dark skies. We therefore stood upon a shelf, a stair step, a horizontal interruption in the diagonal, almost vertical wall, located some indeterminate distance down between one drop and another.
Before the cliff in front of me was a geodesic dome, all of white, perhaps twenty meters high. I was reminded of historical pictures I had seen of igloos, although this was considerably larger. Also, it did not appear to be made of ice.
There was nothing to which we might tether our horses. Istari moved in front of his mount and caught its attention. He looked intensely in its eyes and spoke a few words in a language I could not understand. The horse stood still, not moving a muscle after he was finished. Then he came around to Comet, presumably to repeat the act.
“Wait,” I said, stepping between them. “You aren’t harming them, are you?”
“Certainly not. But we can’t have them wandering over the edge.”
I considered, then nodded and moved to the side. He repeated the same trick and Comet became a statue.
“Hurry now,” he said. “Time is of the essence. Also, we will need the element of surprise.”
I drew my gun and followed his long, lean form toward the dome. Seeing no obvious entrance, I wondered how he planned for us to go inside. My unspoken query was answered a moment later as he reached up and touched his fingertips to the smooth white surface, sliding them slowly across it. Directly in front of us a black rectangle formed. A second later, the section of wall that had filled the rectangle vanished, leaving a doorway leading inside.
“Idiots,” Istari remarked. “They haven’t changed the locks in all this time.” He passed through it without a backward glance. Frowning, I hurried along after him.
Of course he would know how to get inside. He was part of whatever this was—or at least he had been, before his compatriots had kicked him out. The Renegade, indeed. I needed more information from and about him, I knew. More answers. He’d deflected me thus far by pleading urgency, but that excuse was wearing thin.
We had traveled a fair distance into the structure. He wasn’t running, but his stride was so long that I had to almost jog to keep pace with him. We passed along a winding corridor and at last emerged into a broad, circular interior space with a high ceiling.
What I saw there gave me pause, to say the least.
At the center of the big room, massive rectangular-shaped pieces of some sort of very advanced equipment stood in a semicircle, connected to one another by bundles of thousands of thin, translucent cables. At the middle of the semicircle was a low platform or table, and a dozen articulated metal-and-plastic arms sparkling with lights along their angled lengths moved like the legs of some gigantic insect trapped in the ceiling. Bright beams of coherent light stabbed out from the tips of each arm at regular intervals, striking something on the table.
None of this, however, was what startled me.
No, what truly startled me was the strange, humanoid figure that stood next to the equipment, operating its controls.
He appeared to be a man, at least in terms of gender. Not so much in terms of species.
Also, he was utterly bald, wore a skin-tight, shiny red metallic suit that covered him from knees to mid-waist, and stood at least three meters tall. And his skin was all of gray.
Another alien. Another kind of alien. I shook my head. This had been quite a day.
As we entered, the giant looked up and stared directly at us, with eyes so dark and piercing I was certain they looked through my own flesh and scrutinized my soul. I felt my stomach dropping in the general direction of my feet.
Those eyes did not linger upon me for long. They snapped toward Istari and locked on him.
“Dormor, my old friend,” my companion called, raising a hand in greeting.
The gray giant did not respond. He merely continued to stare intently at Istari.
We were now halfway across the open space separating the room’s entrance from the giant and the equipment. Istari had not slowed in the least.
“Where is Udasi?” he added, looking to one side and then the other.
The giant allowed us to approach for a few more steps. He still had not moved. Then his expression soured and he began to stride toward us. It was bizarre and almost surreal; he seemed to move in slow motion, and yet he covered ground very quickly. His massive hands came up, fingers working.
Just as the two of them reached one another, Istari side-stepped, pivoted and swung around beneath the giant’s grasp. Springing back up, he placed a slender foot against the giant’s back and kicked.
Nothing happened. The giant was simply too big, too heavy.
The big creature whirled about and the loglike, meaty arms lashed out again. This time they succeeded in seizing Istari by the upper arm. Still silent, the giant flung my companion across the room. He hit the floor and rolled to a stop; he did not immediately rise again.
I swallowed then, because the big creature was now looking directly at me.
I attempted a smile and nodded his way. “Greetings,” I said, already placing one foot behind the other to prepare for a hasty retreat.
The giant took a step my way and I responded by taking tw
o quick ones in the same direction, preventing the distance between us from shrinking. Sweat trailed down my cheeks and itched my goatee. I was acutely aware of the blast pistol in my right hand but I seriously wondered about its ability to stop or even slow such a creature.
Istari was beside me again, then. I hadn’t heard him rise or approach. He danced into my line of sight and this time he raised both hands as he addressed the giant.
“Dormor,” he began, “hear me out. My conflict is not with you or your kind. You know this. It is with Elendi and the others. They wish to harm the humans, for no reason other than fear. You know this to be the wrong path to follow. Surely you, a former Hand, can see—”
The gray giant had heard enough, I guessed. He charged, this time backhanding Istari and sending him sprawling again. It was a remarkable thing to watch. He seemed to move slowly over all, yet when he finally committed to a movement, his individual motions and gestures were sharp, quick, like lightning. And brutal in their effectiveness.
I wasn’t sure what I should do. Istari wasn’t moving—this time he seemed incapacitated. Should I shoot? Would it matter? Should I flee? Even assuming I could escape this being’s pursuit, how would I get off the ledge?
I scampered over to where Istari lay, figuring he was still the best bet we had, given the circumstances.
He lay still as death, though. His previously pale skin looked positively snow-white now. I grasped him and shook him and said all sorts of vile things, but he didn’t rouse.
Then time ran out. The giant lunged and only by the narrowest of margins did I evade his grasping hands. I brought my gun up to fire but his meaty paw swatted out and knocked the blast pistol from my grasp. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it smack the ground and snap into at least two pieces. I cursed.
Istari must have awoken at that precise moment, assuming he hadn’t been playing dead all along. He leapt to his feet directly between the giant and me and he struck with a lightning chop to the sternum that actually seemed to give the big creature pause.
Baranak: Storming the Gates (The Above Book 2) Page 10
