by John Corwin
"Master," the Nazdal said, and bowed its head. Long strings of drool hung from the cluster of sharp teeth jutting from its lower jaw.
"I'm not your master," I said, and backed away a step.
"Then, you are food?"
"No, I'm not that either," I said, backing away several more steps.
It said nothing, but continued to look at me, as if curious. Finally, it spoke. "You are not like the others the master's servants feed to the brain." It spoke slowly, its voice slurred as if it had great difficulty speaking English, or maybe just because it needed some serious dental work.
I didn't know what to say. "Why do you let her command you?"
"She works for the gods," he said, as if that should answer everything.
"The Seraphim?" I asked.
"That is what she also calls them," he said. A puddle of red-tinted drool formed on the floor beneath his jaw.
"They aren't gods," I said. "They just like to pretend they are."
The Nazdal sniffed. "I sense the god in you. Why do you not command the small one called Serena?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Must be my body spray," I said. "It's god-scented."
The Nazdal tilted its head, shifting the string of saliva to the other side of its mouth. "Your insides reek of the god."
I decided he must be sniffing my Mom's genetic contribution to little old me. "Will your people follow me?" I asked, wondering if I might be able to use this army.
"If you are mightier than the bright one."
I raised an eyebrow. "Daelissa?"
"The very same."
Beat up Daelissa, rule an army. I didn't need a therapist to tell me how crazy it sounded. I had a better chance of defeating an army of Nazdal than I did beating Daelissa's punk ass. But I didn't let that stop me from lying to this guy. "Sure. Next time she comes around, I'll kick her ass and show you who's boss."
"That will be acceptable," the creature said.
"Do you speak for your people?" I asked. "Are you their leader?"
A sound like air bubbling through phlegm came from its throat. I wondered if it was a laugh, or if the thing had contracted pneumonia. "I am a low one of the upper ranks. I gather information for the leader."
"Do you have a name?"
It made a horrendous noise, like a man hawking up a goober the size of an Olympic ice skating champion's left buttock. It looked at me for a moment then made the bubbling laugh noise again. "You cannot say my name with your words. Call me Maloreck."
"Ooh, that's a cool name," I said. "Is that how in translates from your language to mine?"
"No. It was the name of a man they threw in the pit." The creature gurgled. "I was the one who life drained him. I absorbed his knowledge and power."
I gulped. "Is that how you feed?"
Maloreck nodded. "When you wound the prey, its life drains with the blood. It is an honor to drain mighty prey."
"At least his name wasn't Bob."
Maloreck tilted his head. "Is that a glorious name in your tongue?"
"Yeah, it means 'slayer of gods'."
"Then I am not yet worthy of the name Bob."
I stifled a snort.
Maloreck tilted his head slightly. "I will return to"—he made a god-awful rasping noise—"and inform him you plan to dethrone the bright one. If your powers are greater than hers, we will follow you." He crawled away.
Pressure squeezed my chest as I thought about what I'd told Maloreck. Beat Daelissa? That's crazy talk!
Unless I figured out how to open my Seraphim abilities, Daelissa would tear me to shreds.
Chapter 23
I walked back to the minder and stared at it for a while. The thought of using it sent cold shivers down my spine. Unfortunately, I had little choice in the matter. The only question remaining was how to use it. When I'd been in a lucid dream state, the minder hadn't been able to control my thoughts. Earlier, when my father and I had been touched by the minders, memories had surfaced. With everything that happened between then and now, I hadn't given much thought to the dreams.
The part about my father telling Mom that I would serve and die had kind of overwhelmed everything else. As I remembered it now, I also recalled the song Mom sang to me. I'd heard that melody before, or at least part of it when Mom was explaining how she attuned the Cyrinthian Rune with her gift of perfect musical pitch. Considering the arches were created by sirens who sang them into being, it made perfect sense.
If Serena wanted me to serenade the rune, though, she was in for a huge disappointment. Mom had a beautiful, unearthly voice. In short, she sang like an angel. My singing voice flat out sucked. Elyssa would turn off the radio if I started belting out my favorite power ballads. She told me I must be studying necromancy because my voice could wake the dead.
Why did Serena have so much faith in me? Maybe my post-pubescent singing voice will improve.
"La, la la," I sang in an off-key croak. "Hey, baby, baby. It's Friday." Even I could hear how out of tune my voice was. I was likely to create another Desecration just by singing. I looked at the minder. "Let's do this, but let me have the controls, okay?"
Its tentacles swung toward me.
"Whoa, hold up!" I said.
The tentacles froze in place.
"Let me lie down first." I lay down on my back. Took a deep breath. "Okay, now let's—"
The world blinked away.
I stood in a void. "You don't waste any time."
What is free will? The whispery voice sounded like the one that had spoken to me the last time.
"It means you choose to do what you want. Other beings don't tell you what to do."
This is possible?
"Yes." I waited for another response, but none came. "Can you identify other minders?"
Yes.
"Do you have names?"
Not names. Associations. Feelings.
"Can you identify my personal minder?"
At first there was no answer. It is possible. The notion will be put forth into the thought stream.
I didn't bother asking for clarification since that sounded like a yes to me. "If you find him, can you send him to me?"
If the idea carries, so it will be.
Sounded like another affirmative, so I didn't pepper the thing with questions. I wondered if Serena carried on conversations with the minders.
She does, in a fashion.
Obviously, the minder could read my, um, mind. Creepy.
Agreed, in the context provided.
I tried to stop thinking about how unsettling its response was, and forced my thoughts to the matter at hand. "I need to remember the song my mother sang." I concentrated on the tune.
I look up at Mom as she sings to me. The song delights my little body. I open my mouth and coo at her.
I'm older. Mom is singing to a newborn baby. I peek into the room. She looks at me and smiles. The baby stares at Mom. It's too young to be able to see yet, but it seems to understand everything.
Several months have passed since seeing the newborn. Mom sings to my sister, Ivy, every day, and lets me listen. Though the song is simple, there are some parts I can't hear, as if my ears are incapable of detecting the notes.
"Mom, why do you sing the same song?" I ask.
"You might need it someday," she says, brushing a hand through my hair.
"They're coming," my father says from the doorway.
Tears run down Mom's face. "I hate this idea. What if he perverts the mind of our little girl?"
David takes Mom in his arms. She buries her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, my love. This is the only chance we have for her to attain her full abilities." My father looks at me. "Go to your room, son. I don't want you in here when they arrive."
I do as asked. As I play in my room, I hear Mom singing the song over and over again. I hear other voices. I look down the hall and see the man in the top hat. Jeremiah Conroy sees me. His eyes tighten, but he says nothing. Eliza Conroy exits Ivy's room, a bundle in her arm
s. Mom is sobbing. David holds her tight, his own eyes filled with tears.
"She will be mighty," Jeremiah says.
"Be careful with our daughter," David replies. "Are you sure there's no other way?"
Jeremiah shakes his head. "I am sorry, but no. The girl shows all the signs she is the one. The boy has no powers. He is useless to me."
After Jeremiah leaves, Mom comes to me, eyes red from crying. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll protect you." She presses a hand to my head, and everything blurs away.
I sucked in a breath and looked around. I was back in the void. Pain swelled in my chest, and tears gathered in my eyes. Mom had blurred many memories from my mind. I'd had some recollections of the Conroys taking away my sister before, but nothing like that.
Sadness. Grief. Pain. If you have free will, why do you allow the pain?
"We don't always have a choice in what we feel," I said. "Free will doesn't mean you can control every aspect of your life, but you can make choices that will make you happy sometimes, and sad others."
A great burden.
"Tell me about it," I said.
You feel responsible for that which is beyond your control.
"What do you mean?"
Other entities. Loved ones. You wish to prevent harm to them.
"Yeah. That's why I want to stop Daelissa," I said.
Great responsibility.
"I know, I know." A sigh burst from my lips. "I've got to stop her though."
The minder didn't respond.
I took the time to hum the tune Mom had sung. The tune itself was simple except for the missing notes. I understood immediately why I hadn't heard those notes. Until just before my eighteenth birthday, my hearing was as normal as a human's. There was no way I'd know those frequencies because I'd never heard them. It meant without her, I'd never know the tune.
"You can let me out," I said. "End the dream."
I awoke on the floor of the arch room, and pushed myself up to a sitting position. We're so screwed. How was I supposed to figure out the tune if I didn't know all the notes? Maybe I could convince Serena to send me back to Eden so I could talk to Mom. Then I'd return with the cavalry, rescue Dad, and beat the snot out of Serena.
Except, there was no chance in hell Serena would let me go. More than likely, she'd somehow use me to trick Mom into entering this hellhole. If I discovered the song, what then? I'd have to attune the arch and possibly unleash Armageddon. There had to be a way out of this mess. I wondered if anyone could do the singing ritual, or if it required someone specific. Lornicus, the most lifelike golem Mr. Gray had made, told me my mother was the only one who could perform the ritual since she'd been the first to attune the Grand Nexus and the rune.
When I'd asked her about it, she told me she was able to do it because she had perfect pitch. I wondered if Ivy had the same control over her voice or if she was still too young.
Unfortunately, all the speculation in the world wasn't going to teach me the song. I paced back and forth, thinking furiously. Mom once told me she could feel the tuning of the Cyrinthian Rune, and it allowed her to feel what lay on the other side of the portal. She'd discovered the mortal realm that way. If that were true, it meant the Grand Nexus could conceivably lead to other realms besides Seraphina. This Shadow Nexus had obviously led to the realm with the Nazdal. Could I possibly attune it so it would take us back to Eden instead of Seraphina?
We could escape.
I knew what my goal was. I would learn how to change the destination of this arch. Another problem occurred to me. The song Mom sang in my memory might unlock the way to only one destination. Or it might be the song to remove the rune from the nexus. Why would Mom have taught us the song to open the gate to Seraphina? It didn't make sense, because the last thing she'd want was to reopen the gateway to her home world. It made a lot more sense to teach us how to remove the rune.
"Ugh, I'm never going to figure this out." I paced some more, trying to figure a way out. No one except Mom knew the songs. Nobody but me and Ivy had heard her—I suddenly realized that wasn't true at all. Someone else had heard her sing. That someone else might know more about the tuning.
Dad.
I walked to the minder and said, "I need my father. He has information I need."
The phantom creature didn't so much as twitch.
"I'll also need some way to tune my voice." I had no idea what device could actually hit all the notes I needed, but at least it would make Serena think I was doing something.
The minder still made no move to indicate it heard or cared about my requests.
"Look, I really need my father. Ask Serena for permission if you need to." With that, I spun on my heel and walked to the arch.
The rune gave off a benign glow, but I didn't dare touch the thing. I also saw no way to activate the arch. Alabaster Arches had a symbol in the arch control runes. Pressing it would activate the arch, which would then open a portal. There were no buttons in this room. The Obsidian Arches had a modulus for choosing destinations on the map. Admittedly, I'd never used the Grand Nexus. The only Alabaster Arches I'd activated had malfunctioned since the nexus didn't have the rune.
I examined the rune again. Hoping I didn't blow off my hand, I held it toward the rune. The glowing patterns brightened. Gritting my teeth, and offering up prayers, I reached my palm toward the small sphere.
It sprang from the socket and hovered an inch from the surface. I yelped and jumped backward. The tiny orb reset itself back into the slot. I took deep breaths and waited for my heart to stop pounding.
Maybe it's supposed to do that.
I sure hoped so. I paced back and forth for several minutes, working up the courage to try again. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I reached my palm toward it, as if activating a modulus. The orb sprang free. I willed it to activate.
The silver ring around the arch flared bright. I felt a sudden rush of magical energy building around me, washing past like static electricity. The arch hummed. Black and white sheets of light flickered between the columns. The thrumming grew louder and louder. The alternating light pulses quickened. With a bright flash, the portal opened and a window to another world appeared.
A great open plain of red sand and craggy rocks ran into the distance. A blood red sun hovered low on the horizon. Scrub brush with shimmering thorns grew in scattered clumps, and something that looked a lot like a huge, horned coyote streaked past.
I saw movement. Heard the susurrus of gravelly voices and the gurgling of gullets with too much phlegm. The sand moved. No, it wasn't the sand moving, but creatures—Nazdal—their skin camouflaged perfectly to match the environment. Jaws open and drooling, they lunged, intercepted the coyote, and brought it down. The creature yipped.
More and more of the sub-human crawlers phased into view until the plain was dotted with what had to be thousands upon thousands. I felt my eyes go wide at the sight, and my heart went tight as skinny jeans. The Nazdal swarmed toward the portal, their voices gurgling in excitement.
"Close!" I shouted, and willed the portal to shut.
The gateway flicked off, and the only other sound besides my beating heart was the throbbing hum of the arch winding down. I backed away a few steps. My knees felt weak. I turned, and saw my father standing outside the ring. A sentinel held him. He looked as pale as the guardian.
"This is not good," he said.
I couldn't agree more.
Chapter 24
I looked at the minder. "Can you make the sentinel release my father? It's not like we can escape."
The pale guardian's hand opened, and David stepped away from it.
"Thank you," I said, wondering if good manners made a difference to the ghostly brain creature. "Let me show you something." I motioned my father toward the arch. As we walked, I noticed the sentinel didn't follow. I wasn't sure if the minder could hear me. The thing didn't have ears, but it obviously knew what I wanted when I spoke to it. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to relay my the
ories to David.
I told him what I needed.
"You want to pick my brain using the minder to find out if I remember any songs your mother sang?" he said.
I nodded. "Look, here's the deal. From what Mom told me, I think the arch can be attuned to open into different realms. The Cyrinthian Rune adjusts the destination, but it requires a ritual." I explained how the siren-like beings had grown an arch from solid rock. Shelton, some others and I had accidentally caused a glitch by opening two portals right next to each other and briefly ended up witnessing the sirens building an arch.
"And your mother's songs are like the ones the sirens used to grow the arches?" he said.
"Exactly. So, it makes sense the Cyrinthian Rune responds to those musical frequencies."
"Why don't all the arches work that way then?" he asked.
I shrugged. "I think the Seraphim were able to build their own versions of the Obsidian Arches, or at least modify them. Or, maybe the builders specifically made them simple to use."
He nodded. "All except for the Grand Nexus, in case a hostile race decided to use it to take over a few worlds."
"Hmm." I pursed my lips. "I hadn't thought about it that way, but you could be right." While the builders might be fine with beings using the Obsidian Arches for travel across their own realm, they might have issues with a race like the Seraphim using the Grand Nexus as a means of invasion.
David tapped his temple. "It might just work."
"I hope so. We activate the arch, dash through, stick out our tongues at Serena, and run for the hills."
"If we do escape, we can't just leave her here to build an army of Nazdal."
I felt my eyebrows rise. "Aww, you do care."
"Of course I care about an invasion," he said with a sigh. "I didn't go through centuries of grief and longing to give up the ghost now."
"Then why did you act so nonchalantly when we met in the graveyard?" I folded my arms across my chest. "And you were such an asshole to me after the Exorcists banished us here."
