“Aurelia,” I shouted into the mic, and heard my voice booming out of speakers throughout the palace. “Stephanie. If you’re still here, get to the dining hall now.” I stood there waiting for a few seconds, but no one responded and no one came running.
I glanced back at the doorway and the last two or three staff members were passing through it. The last one, a woman of about fifty, looked at me and beckoned. “Lord Gaius,” she called. “You must come!”
“I’ll be right there,” I told her. “Go on!”
Reluctantly she followed the other two through the black rectangle of the doorway.
I clicked the PA once again. “Aurelia! Stephanie!”
Nothing.
A glance at the doorway chilled my blood: The opening and the door itself were fading away.
I cursed. All I could do was hope they were no longer in the palace. Even if they’d run outside onto the surrounding grounds, or jumped into a surface transport vehicle, they were about to be dead; that was scarcely enough distance away to avoid the effects of a quantum blast. If for some unknown reason they’d taken a spacecraft away from Victoria, they might survive.
My time was up. I ran for the doorway. It had almost vanished from sight when reached it. Passing through it was like walking through quicksand—like feeling hundreds of grasping hands trying to catch me, to hold me, to shove me back. I gritted my teeth and leaned forward and pushed my way into and through and out the other side—
I tumbled out onto a grassy surface.
“Lord Gaius,” someone shouted, and hands reached down and helped me up.
The others were there. I’d made it through to where they’d gone—wherever that was. I looked up, taking in the sight.
The stables. We were, all of us, on the lawn near the stables. Just outside the palace.
I frowned. This was not what I had expected. I’d been thinking the doorway would lead us to some alternate dimension or pocket universe. Not just a short distance beyond the building.
“We are out of time,” Istari said as I climbed to my feet and saw him mounted on Sneak.
“Just what I was thinking,” I replied, involuntarily gazing up at the sky as if I could make out the warheads bearing down on us. “So why are we standing here—”
“This way,” he said, gesturing ahead. “The Path opens here. We go. Now.”
I nodded, relieved. “By all means.”
One of the guards held the reins of Comet and I took them, then climbed into the saddle. Istari had his horse moving forward across the grass at a slow trot and we followed.
“My lord,” the guard who had handed Comet over to me said. His nametag read CEVELAR and I saw that his expression was frantic, almost wild. “This—what will this accomplish? Dying here instead of in the palace?”
“Trust me,” I told him, offering a confident smile. I nodded toward the other horseman and added, “Trust him.”
And that thought nearly made me sick, because I certainly didn’t. But he was the only chance we had.
“Warhead impact in twenty seconds,” one of the guards shouted.
Istari spurred his horse and I did likewise. The mass of people behind us hurried along in our wake, and the world around us began to change. The last I saw of the environment of Victoria was what looked like the sun rising and the sky turning red. Then that world was behind us and we were elsewhere in the cosmos.
+ + +
Istari raised a hand and brought his horse to a halt. I reined in Comet and looked at him, waiting.
We had traveled over rolling hills with tall green grass and short yellow weeds, over a patch of desert with copper-colored sand, and along the shore of a lake that fairly radiated indigo. In all, our journey had taken a bit more than two hours, as we felt the passage of time, and the surprise and relief of the others had slowly given way to a growing sense of wonder at our strange surroundings. Now we stood on a flat, wind-swept plain with only a few sparse weeds growing here and there. The sun looked much larger and redder than usual, where it hung in the sky directly overhead.
I rode up next to Istari. “Is this the best place to stop?” I asked.
“We do not stop here,” he said. “But it is the best place to make the transition to a higher plane.”
I had no idea what that meant so I merely watched and waited as he climbed down from his horse and unsheathed the golden sword. Behind us, more than a hundred human beings in the livery of my family’s house stood and watched as well. Most of them were still buzzing about the fact that they had somehow avoided death and destruction—that following the strange, pale alien on his black horse as he led us across a bizarre combination of landscapes had somehow resulted in their living through an attack of such magnitude. I could also hear a few of them commenting on the likelihood that the palace and a good portion of Victoria around it were now gone. I assumed they were correct, and that many more people had been vaporized in the areas beyond the palace. There had been nothing I or anyone else could have done—I had saved as many people as was possible for me to save. I did not wish to dwell on that. There would be time later. Time to find those responsible and see that they tasted swift and terrible justice.
For now, our mission was at last clear to me. The family traitor could wait. Even the Verghasites could wait. At the moment, I wanted those ultimately responsible for all of this. And none of them were human.
I climbed down from Comet and stood a short distance away, watching, as Istari raised the golden sword, dropped himself into a fighting stance, and then brought the blade around in a broad, single cut.
The air—and the very fabric of the universe—parted before him, as it had done for me when I fought the gray giant. It split, opening a horizontal rift in reality, and continued to expand until it had formed an oval-shaped portal hovering there in midair, leading someplace else.
“Through here,” he called out to the crowd behind us. “You will be safe enough in this place for now.”
“We aren’t taking them to Majondra?” I asked, surprised.
“There are no Paths that lead directly there,” he replied. “It would be a much longer journey, and time is of the essence now.” He hesitated, then, “Also, given that your world’s enemies have just done what they did to your moon, would you rule out their doing the same to your homeworld?”
I blanched at this. For some reason the attack on the palace and Victoria itself had struck me as a one-off, though now that I considered it directly I couldn’t imagine why. It might very well be the case that the Church, acting through the Verghasites and surely the instigators of the attack, would next assault Majondra itself. If they hadn’t already.
“Fine,” I said, growing more agitated by the moment. “I agree that time is of the essence. Because this entire thing has gotten ratcheted up too many levels now. Too many have died. It has to end. Now.”
Istari nodded. “And there is only one way to effectively end it.”
“The Immortals,” I said. “We have to confront this Cabal of yours directly.”
He nodded again. “Five remain now. One more former Hand of the Machine—Hadog—and four of my kind. Understand, though: they are the strongest, the most treacherous, the most dangerous of all.”
“I never doubted it.”
His wry little smile returned. “One way or another, my human friend, it should make for a rousing tale when it is done.” He paused, then, “If anyone remains alive to tell it.”
I was in no mood to laugh. I moved away from him and gathered up twenty of the best troops that had come through the doorway with us. That seemed adequate. The rest I directed to pass through the portal Istari had just created with the sword. On the other side lay a virtual paradise: waterfalls, fruit trees, grassy slopes, and a beach with gentle waves rolling in. The sun was yellow and not too hot, and I could hear the call of birds from somewhere in the distance. I had to fight the desire to remain there myself. Alas, there was work to be done.
I borrowed a bl
ast pistol from one of the guards that was going through with the others and for the first time in too long I felt that I could adequately defend myself in a fight. Holstering it, I turned back to Istari. Twenty men and women who had little left to lose stood at my back.
“Where do we begin?” I asked him.
He smiled again, and this time it took the form of a predatory leer. It gave me the creeps.
“Most of them are likely gathered in the Great Nexus,” he said. He pursed his lips, thinking. “But not, generally, Orondi. Let us begin with him. Remove him from the board; carve him from the bone, so to speak. So that when we assault their main gathering, there can be no surprises from other quarters.”
I didn’t ask about that new term he’d casually thrown out: “Great Nexus.” I figured I’d find out soon enough—and before it mattered that I knew. I simply nodded. “Fine.”
He turned and leapt into the saddle.
“There may be other advantages, as well, in beginning with that one,” he added.
“Such as?”
“Orondi is the Oracle.” He chuckled. “Perhaps he can share with us the outcome of this endeavor.” He laughed again. “Before we hurl his broken body into the Abyss.”
I didn’t reply to that. In earlier days—or hours—I might have objected to such talk. Not now. At the moment, hurling bodies into some metaphorical or metaphysical abyss sounded perfectly fine to me.
We rode.
+ + +
In retrospect, I probably should have guessed that someone called “the Oracle” would be expecting us.
Fortunately, Istari took that into account. Either that, or he got extremely lucky. Or both.
Orondi was certainly prepared. As we burst through the portal Istari had carved for us, rending the dimensional walls and storming into his dome of a base, the frail Immortal gazed down solemnly from his broad, throne-like seat atop a raised dais of concentric rings and barked orders to the dozens of heavily-armed warriors that surrounded him.
They were human, or at least looked that way from a distance, but upon closer inspection they scarcely resembled any humans I was familiar with. Savage, they were—yet quite competent at wielding the advanced-design energy weapons with which they were armed. It was as if this Orondi had dipped into the ancient past and recruited a tribe of Neanderthals to serve him. They charged at us, firing madly, and several of my troopers went down immediately.
I cursed. In addition to the mere thought of losing more good men and women to these arrogant bastards, the Cabal, I hated seeing our ranks cut down so soon, with four more “Immortals” still at large. I was sure we’d need every fighter at our disposal before the job was done.
Istari didn’t waste any time, though. The golden sword held high, he shouted something in a language I didn’t understand and then he charged directly into the mass of Orondi’s protectors. The sword sang its deadly song and the Oracle’s savage guardsmen fell before him.
Gun in hand, I followed him in and blasted away, and the rest of our band came behind us.
We fought on two sides of a circular pool that occupied the center of the chamber, directly in front of the Oracle’s dais and at the foot of the stairs that led up to its top. Istari and I and some of our men fought our way around it on the left side, while others of our number curved around to the right. We converged again at the base of the steps once the enemy had been beaten back and laid low. As we passed by the pool, I couldn’t help but look down at it and my stomach turned upside down, my equilibrium for a moment lost.
What upon first glance had seemed to me a basin of water now revealed itself as a window unto the greater universe. Stars and constellations sparkled across a black velvet background, glowing nebulae of purple and red and blue streaking diagonally from left to right. It took my breath away and it very nearly got me killed.
As I gawked, one of the enemy warriors screamed a bloodthirsty cry and lunged for me. He probably would’ve had me, as well, but Istari saw what was happening, swung the long blade around behind himself, and took the savage’s head off.
I exhaled and realized once again that I was in the alien’s debt. I didn’t feel any better about that now than I had before, because I still did not trust him and still suspected his motives. There comes a time after someone has repeatedly saved your life, though, that you have to give them at least a tiny break.
We fought on.
I will not bore you with the grim details. We battled and we battled and no small number of our own ranks were killed or wounded. Of the enemy, though, we left none alive save the Immortal himself, the one called Orondi.
Istari bounded up the steps, extended his right arm and directed the sword at him. Its gleaming tip almost touched the alien’s scrawny neck. Frail Orondi was indeed; frail and small and quite ancient. Obviously he was of the same race as Istari—the Dyonari, I believe he called his kind—but he appeared older, smaller, and very frail. He hadn’t risen from the big vertical bowl of a seat he occupied, and as we drew near I began to wonder if he even could. Then I saw the multitude of tubes and wires that led from the sides of the clamshell seat to his body, where they plugged into sockets set into his flesh. Here was one so aged in appearance that I could imagine him having lived for centuries, for millennia before. But “Immortal” implied he’d go on living, and nothing about his appearance now suggested he’d be around for another week, much less another millennium.
“So,” the elderly alien croaked, ignoring the blade that hovered in the air before him. “You have come, as I knew you would.”
“If you knew we would defeat your guards,” Istari hissed, “why did you bother sending them against us? Or recruit them at all, for that matter?”
Orondi laughed; a painful-sounding, wheezing laugh. “I still believe in the mission of our Cabal,” he managed once his breathing had returned to normal. “I want them to succeed, even if I won’t be there with them at the end.”
“What does that have to do with—?”
“Your ranks needed thinning,” he continued. “My role, as I foresaw it, was to remove as many of your pawns from the board as possible, before I met my own fate. That I have now done.”
Istari and I both glared at him.
“You have always carried with you an overinflated sense of your own importance, and of the significance of your visions,” Istari growled. “Seeing the future is not interpreting the future. Glimpsing isolated moments as you do is not comprehending the full course of time and destiny. Context is everything.”
Orondi leaned forward such that the point of the sword was now actually jabbing him in the neck. A thin trickle of blood ran down from the puncture. “Spare me your lectures, Renegade,” he said, spittle flying from his wrinkled mouth. “Do what you have come to do and begone.” He sneered. “Your own reckoning draws near as well.”
Istari glanced at me; I exhibited no reaction. This, as far as I was concerned, was all his show.
“What do you see of me in times to come?” he asked the one whose title was Oracle.
“What do you care? You don’t believe it.”
“Call it an academic interest.”
The old Immortal glared back at him for several seconds, then brushed with his clawed hands at the sword blade. “Then let me up from here and I will show you,” he said.
Istari moved the blade away but kept it ready. He backed up a step and I did as well.
Orondi rose from his seat and slowly and carefully made his way down the steps until he stood before that circular pool. The tubes and wires pulled loose from him as he moved, spilling oily-looking fluids across the dais, but he ignored them. We followed him, while our troops all trained their weapons on him, in case he tried anything.
A comet, blazing bright orange, was burning its way across the face of the basin as we looked down at it. The stars behind it had faded somewhat, washed out by the magnificent manifestation.
“Look into the Well of Eternity,” Orondi intoned, “and witness yo
ur fate.”
Was it some sort of trap? I couldn’t imagine so. In a way, however, I sort of hoped it was. Because if he actually could show us our own futures, and what we saw revealed there turned out to be horrifically negative... I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about it. Call me an optimist, but I’d always believed that seeing the future would reveal to me the best possible outcome for my life and my work. I doubt that I’m alone in thinking that. Being able to show someone a dismal, depressing future—whether true or not—would therefore be a powerful weapon in this being’s hands. It could potentially undermine one’s entire self-confidence and belief system. The more I thought about these things, the less I wanted to look into the Well.
Istari seemed to have no such compunctions. He leaned over the edge, gazing into the cosmic waters.
Orondi sneered as he watched Istari looking into the Well. Then he turned to me and instantly he frowned.
“Who are you?” he asked, his bravado melting away. “How did you come to be here?”
This puzzled me; I’d gotten the impression he had seen me, and had been addressing me, since we’d entered. But now it was as if he were encountering me for the first time. I started to ask what he was talking about when his clawlike hand darted out and grasped my own.
“Hey—” I began.
He gasped, released me and staggered back a step. His bloodshot eyes stared back into my own. His mouth opened as if to speak but no sound came forth save a series of short gasps. Then he stared down at the floor, mumbling something unintelligible.
Istari had been staring into the Well during the entirety of this exchange and caught none of it. Now he looked up, grunted, nodded to himself, and looked away for a moment. Then he turned to me.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
Baranak: Storming the Gates (The Above Book 2) Page 16
