Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  His black eyes closed, and without preamble, I was in the stream of his mind.

  Information threatened to overwhelm me, to bury me in an avalanche of memories and thoughts and ideas and musings and dreams. I struggled against it, floundered against it, trying to make sense of the deluge, but it was too much, too fast, and it threatened to sweep me away—to sweep my personality into the rapid stream. “Help me, Bikkir! Think of home!”

  A thought came from the stream like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, and I grabbed it with all my strength. I couldn’t make much sense of it—there seemed to be opposing directions of time, multiple instances of beings, some moving forward, some back, some stationary, and reality seemed transitory at best—but I got a sense of where and when to send a proo.

  “Got it, I think.” I withdrew from the giant slowth and created my particles, linked with a strenkir af krafti, and with a proo strand and spun the terminal particle to the place I thought Bikkir needed.

  He approached the silver beginning of the proo and stared at it. “Where did you learn this?” he murmured.

  “Bikkir, do you agree that I saved you significant headaches here today?”

  “Affirmation.”

  “Do you feel as if you owe me a little gratitude?”

  His slack face twitched with a momentary emotion, and given the speed of his thoughts, I guessed that was all I’d ever see. But he nodded, though with a note of caution in his eye.

  “You must keep this ability a secret. At a future time, you will know why, but for now, do it because you owe me one. There are…” I glanced at Isi and stepped closer to Bikkir. “There are those in your realm with whom you may disagree. If they were to learn of this ability…”

  He stared at me for the longest time, frozen, as if a mannequin that matched him in precise detail had replaced him. Finally, he tipped his head toward me once. “This one will enlist in your machinations until such a time as either you prove yourself contemptible or this one’s cognition alters. How is it you can direct an ormur gat?”

  “Funny thing. You taught me.”

  Bikkir turned and cocked his head at me. “Incongruence.”

  “Yes, it was. Is it in the right place?”

  Again, Bikkir looked at the proo, then he shook his head. The end of the proo moved a little, and I saw where he shifted it. “Gratitude,” he said and touched the proo’s face.

  Isi gasped as the Plauinn disappeared. “How was that done? What is this thing? A conveyance? How marvelous! What was the black version of it? The weaponized version? How does one control it? Where does this lead?” He reached toward the proo.

  “Lokathu proonum!” I snapped.

  Isi jerked back and turned to me with a pouting expression. “You must explain this!”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You must!”

  “Go stand with your scientists, Isi,” I said with a sigh. When he refused, Mothi picked him up and carried him across the room, depositing him none-too-gently amid the scientists.

  “Act as if you are worthy of your descendants!” Mothi snapped.

  Isi looked at him with open wonder, then shook his head and turned to me. “I would come with you, Hank Jensen.”

  I created another proo and spun it to the Herperty af Roostum. “Everyone through,” I said. I watched the others jump back to Osgarthr. I glanced at Isi and shook my head. “I don’t think so, Lord Isi.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I slapped my hand on the proo and slid through time and space.

  Forty-five

  Sif shouted with happiness. “You found him!” She rushed forward and smothered my son with wet kisses.

  I nodded and closed the proo. “Yowtgayrr, Skowvithr,” I said, holding out my hands. “I already owe you more than I can ever repay, but consider my debt increased.”

  “Our oaths—”

  “Shut up and say you’re welcome,” I said with a smile.

  Jane left Sig’s side long enough to hug both Alfar tight, and to be honest, they seemed a little taken aback by the gesture.

  “That goes for the rest of you, too. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you’d risk life and limb for us, but I can say thank you and mean it with every atom in my body.”

  Althyof blew a raspberry and waved it all away, but I knew our gratitude pleased him. Mothi only shrugged and grinned.

  John Calvin Black stood looking at me with an unreadable expression. Finally, he stepped toward me and said, “I told you of my nephew and the dark promise I made to secure his freedom. I’d never leave a child imprisoned.”

  I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “And I thank you for that.”

  He nodded, but something lurked in his gaze.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s…” He waved his hand. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “No, if something is on your mind, say it.” I could feel Krowkr’s eyes crawling over the side of my face visible to him.

  “It seems as though you take great risks with your son’s life.”

  The room fell silent, and Krowkr took a step forward, looking as if he didn’t even know he was doing it.

  I pursed my lips and glanced at Sig, whose gaze was on the pair of us. “It may seem that way,” I said, “but appearances can be deceiving.”

  John nodded and turned away. “I accept that you mean that. The last I will say about it is this: Battle is no place for such a cherished gift.”

  “He’s our son,” said Jane in a quiet voice. “We’d never risk him.”

  John nodded again but didn’t meet either of our gazes.

  “You dare to…to…” said Krowkr, his voice laced with venom.

  “It’s all right, Krowkr. Everyone here is free to think and say as they please.”

  His hands were on his weapons, and his face burned with rage. “Do you insult Lord Hanki? You were here! Luka used trickery and deceit! You witnessed his deeds!”

  John glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “No, lad. I’m the last in a position to insult anyone. You misconstrue my motives.”

  “Krowkr,” I said. “Look at me.” His blazing gaze remained locked on John’s—he didn’t so much as twitch in my direction. “Krowkr,” I said again, keeping my tone even, my voice low.

  He lowered his head, and after a few breaths, turned his gaze to me.

  “I appreciate you defending my honor, but it isn’t necessary. I can fight my own battles. Okay?”

  His gaze darted back to John’s, then to Jane. “But he—”

  “I can fight my own battles,” I repeated.

  “We can,” said Jane.

  He nodded slowly and released his weapons.

  “John, if I could have a moment?” He turned back to me and shrugged. “You’ve been here—on Osgarthr, I mean—for a long time. Centuries, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you ever seen someone who could be my twin?” I asked, thinking of Henry Vasvik’s father. “Either in the dungeons of Helhaym or…” I shrugged. “Or in the queen’s service?”

  He regarded me without emotion and slowly shook his head. “Should I have? What’s this about?”

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing. A promise I made on another Mithgarthr.” I glanced at Jane and shook my head.

  “Well, I’d never seen anyone who looked like you before we met,” said John.

  “Okay, thank you. Haymtatlr, a question.”

  “Yes, Hank.”

  “Before we left, you said it was possible to cut Luka off from the preer and leave them functional for the rest of us.”

  “Yes, I did, but that is not a question, Hank.”

  “I guess it isn’t. Here’s one: If you can deny a single person the use of the preer does it follow that you can track a single person’s use of the preer?”

  “Without question.”

  I shook my head. All we had to do was ask him. Figures. “Good enough.”

  “You’ll never guess where we’ve been,” said Sig, his
gaze darting between my face and John’s.

  “Where, Piglet?” asked Sif.

  “We went into the past. Waaay back, and we met Isi!”

  “Is it so?” asked Sif, her gaze traveling around the room.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What was all that about ‘dream reflections?’” asked Frikka. “About this ‘underverse’ place?

  “Dreamslice reflections,” I said. “I’ll explain all that later.” I glanced up, unable to help thinking I needed to look at Haymtatlr when I spoke to him, and that he lived in the ceiling. “Where is Luka now, Haymtatlr?”

  “Luka is no longer here.”

  “What? Did he go out onto the plain of Pilrust?”

  “No. He disappeared.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jane, waving her hand at me to shush me. “Did he go out into the lava tubes?”

  “He was headed in that direction, and that seemed his destination, but he stopped and disappeared in the same place that Hank appeared last time. I’ve dispatched—”

  “What do you mean where I ‘appeared?’”

  “You appeared out of thin air.”

  “Out of a proo, you mean.”

  “No. You did not travel here by proo.”

  I looked at Jane and shook my head.

  “Haymtatlr, we emerged from a proo a few moments ago, or did we appear out of thin air?”

  “You appeared out of thin air. I’ve dispatched robotic crews to the first site and to the room where you stand. I’ve also dispatched repair crews to my perception processing units to determine if there has been a hardware failure.”

  “Make another one,” Jane said.

  With a shrug, I opened another new proo and moved the other end across the room.

  “Haymtatlr, can you detect this proo that Hank just made?”

  “Is this another interesting question game?”

  “No. Serious question.”

  “Then, as you well know, Hank can’t make preer. No one can, not even me. I find and harness a miniscule set of the existing preer that occur in the universe. I direct those preer to the places I am asked to connect. The process requires a great deal of energy and the Kyatlarhodn, and he possesses neither. The computational power required to target a proo is astounding. One must account for cosmological—”

  “So, you can only sense the preer you create?” I asked. “You can only track people in those preer?”

  “Is this a trick question? I cannot create a proo. No one can.”

  “I can,” I said. “There is an active proo right here in this room.”

  “One moment,” said Haymtatlr in a toneless voice.

  “Hank, you don’t think Luka escaped using one of your preer, do you?”

  A grim smile stretched my lips while I nodded. “I didn’t consider that I needed to close them. Not until I saw Isi reaching for the proo to Bikkir’s realm. Thick-headed me, I’ve been leaving them open.”

  “My self-diagnostic of my primary perceptual recurrent neural network has finished, and I have found no errors,” said Haymtatlr. “I can only assume that the error lies in your perceptions, and as evidenced by the studies of the Isir mind found within my data stores, I—”

  “No,” said Althyof. “He can do it. You can’t perceive it, but everyone else can.”

  “Haymtatlr, can you run an active scan of this room?”

  “Of course,” he said. The air felt charged for a moment, and a rapid clicking sounded from the walls. “No anomalies found.”

  “Can you take my word for it?” asked Jane.

  “I… Yes. Of course, Jane.”

  “Will you lead us to where Luka disappeared? I’m not sure I could find my way back there.”

  “No need,” I said. I spun the end of my demonstration proo to that common room where we’d stayed that first night we’d spent in the Herperty af Roostum. “Everyone through.” My eye turned toward Meuhlnir, and I arched one eyebrow. His color was better, and he was on his feet and dressed in his mail.

  “Yes,” breathed Meuhlnir. “I’ll not stay behind again.” He nodded toward Sif. “She’s worked wonders while you were off visiting Isi.”

  Sif tsked, but that was the extent of her argument. Mothi helped his father gather his weapons and pack and walked arm-in-arm with Meuhlnir to my proo. With a slight pop, they traversed the proo as soon as Meuhlnir touched its mercury surface.

  “Everyone through,” I said. “Haymtatlr, watch what happens to us. Explain how we can move through normal space at such a pace.” I touched the proo.

  A group of robots stood motionless at the edges of the room. They appeared to have been powered down. Another proo—the one I’d used to travel back to the Herperty af Roostum from Iktrasitl—danced on the other side of the room.

  “Yes, I understand,” said Haymtatlr. The robots powered up and left the room. “I had thought those robots defective when they reported the visual perception of a proo I couldn’t detect. It is clear something is happening, but it seems far more likely that I’ve suffered a false negative in my classification system than my previous estimates indicated. I’ve dispatched another team of robots to assess potential damage to my classification system.”

  “Isn’t it possible, Haymtatlr, that you’ve designed your sensor system to detect the preer that occur in nature, and only those preer?” asked Jane. “That since what Hank is doing is outside your experience, and is outside the knowledge imparted to you by your programmers, you haven’t developed the technology to detect those kinds of preer?”

  “It is…possible,” he said. “A self-serving bias…I understand your implication.”

  “Is this where Luka disappeared?” I asked.

  “Four meters to the south, give or take.”

  In other words, he’d taken my proo. “Veethar, how do you and Meuhlnir manipulate the preer? Can you manipulate mine?”

  Veethar stared at the end of the proo we’d taken from the other room. He stretched out his arm as though he wanted to touch the proo and chanted under his breath in the Gamla Toonkumowl. When nothing happened, he tried again, saying, “Proo, hayrthu mik! Ferthast meth timanum ok roomi, tenktu thednan stath vith thadn stath sem yek hef ee huka! Kera ayns ok yek byeth thyer!”

  Simple, I thought. ‘Bridge, hear me! Travel over time and space, associate this place with the place I have in mind! Do as I bid you!’ I’d thought it would be more complicated than that.

  Veethar’s arm shook with his effort, his face knotted with it. Finally, he dropped his hand and sighed. “It will not move. I don’t understand it, but it will not respond to me.”

  Haymtatlr made a noise strangely akin to clearing his throat. “I’d be happy to do as you ask, Veethar, but I detect no preer in your vicinity.”

  Veethar cocked his head to the side. “You hear our kaltrar? You hear it when we control the preer?”

  “I control the preer. You tell me what you want, and I make the changes your requests require.”

  “Interesting,” I breathed. “How can you hear the incantation when someone tries to change a proo?”

  “In part, Isi’s scientists created my systems to monitor the strenkir af krafti for deviances in the expected behavior of the strings. Another part of me, they constructed later to encompass the preer in a similar manner. Once I detect a manipulation of a proo, I listen in through the proo itself.”

  “And you can’t do that with the preer I create?”

  “If they exist, I cannot.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “That means Luka can’t muck around with them either. And since I didn’t take a proo to where this one ends, he’s trapped in that realm.”

  “Good,” said Mothi. “Close this proo and let him rot there.”

  I shook my head. “No. Luka is our problem to deal with.” I looked Meuhlnir in the eye. “And I think we have to help him before we decide what to do with him.”

  “Help him? Have you lost your mind?” demanded Jane.

  I shook my head.
“And we have to help Hel escape from her torment.”

  “Now, I know you’ve gone cuckoo! If you think—‍”

  “Hel is being tortured by Owraythu—one of the Plauinn, one of the darkest ones, too. If Owraythu succeeds in brainwashing Hel, we will face an enemy united with these Plauinn—a slave bent into their service—rather than someone who has let bitterness drive her to evil.”

  “What have you seen?” asked Sif, a tinge of wonder in her voice. “What have you learned that makes you consider them in this different light?”

  “I’ve been in Luka’s memories—I’ve seen what he experienced first-hand. No, we won’t pat him on the back and set him loose on New York when this is all over. He’s got crimes to pay for, there’s no doubt of that, but if we abandon Hel and Luka to the Plauinn, they will become much, much worse than we can imagine right now. And they will have the backing of mighty beings who consider us warts on the ass of the universe. Anything we can do to fight the Plauinn is better than nothing.”

  Jane shook her head, sadness shining in her expression, her eyes. “This sounds an awful lot as though the ends might justify the means.”

  “You know me better than that, Jane,” I said. “Before they can pay for their crimes, we must set them free of the dark path they’ve chosen, or Hel and Luka will never change, never see the errors—the evil—in what they’ve done. And if that’s the case, we might as well kill them and be done with it. Is that what you want?”

  Jane shook her head and blew a breath hard enough to disrupt her bangs. “You know it isn’t.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the room. “Look, I know this isn’t the most popular idea, but these two people were your friends, your family—”

  “Not mine,” grumbled Althyof.

  “—and despite what they’ve done, I know each of you has a soft spot for them. Meuhlnir, how many times have you argued for your brother’s life? Sif, how many times have you rebuked one of us for calling Hel the Black Bitch? Yowrnsaxa, how many tears have you shed during the stories you’ve told?” I sighed and shook my head. “There’s only one way I can conceive of that you will get your friends back—the real Luka, the real Suel. Ever. We have to help them through this, and then deal with rehabilitating them—if we can earn their trust, first.”