Urban Gothic

by Stephen Coghlan

  “What is Lady Veleda’s position, then?”

  “Upper middle-class.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” Alec shrugged as best he could as they rounded the bend and the rhino leapt onto a rather crowded platform. With simultaneous cries of concern, both Veleda and Frederick ran to their wounded companion.

  Alec’s former CO inspected the wound in his side.

  “How much blood have you lost? Is there any poison in the wound? How long have you been injured for?” he asked rapidly.

  “Where were you? What happened?” Veleda asked.

  “One at a time,” Alec coughed. A medical kit arrived, and Fred began to dress the wound. As he did, Alec brought everyone up to speed with a quick recap.

  “I see you three made it out relatively unscathed,” he remarked when he had finished. “I'm glad.”

  “It helps if you listen to my instructions—” Frederick began, but Alec cut him off as M’lanth helped him to his feet.

  “Check for all viable entrance and exit routes, have a backup, and never go into a room if there isn't an alternate escape available,” he parroted the words he had heard from Frederick countless times as he surveyed the crowds of refugees.

  “That's a lot of people,” Alec noted. “Where are they all going? I don't think the glen will hold them all.”

  “It won't,” Veleda admitted. “But it will choose some. They wait in hope, like those on a sinking ship awaiting a chance to sit on a lifeboat.”

  “And us?”

  “Guaranteed passage.” She sighed guiltily. “The glen will protect the rest of them for as long as it can, but there is little hope unless The Scourge can be stopped.”

  “And how do we do that?” Alec wondered. “The upper echelons seem more concerned with protecting their own asses than those of the people, and I haven't seen any real Resistance army.”

  “I…have a plan or two.” Veleda said hesitantly. When she didn't continue, Alec didn't press the issue.

  “The sooner we get going, the sooner we might have a solution,” M’lanth reminded them all.

  They followed the shadow-knight as she parted the crowds. Apparent guilt persuaded Veleda to keep her head bowed, and Frederick mouthed promises and apologies to those he passed, but everyone in the crowd ignored the others as soon as they set eyes upon Alec’s face. He heard them muttering:

  “It's him!

  It must be his Creator!

  How did they capture him?”

  Hands reached out as people begged them for salvation. Children cried, and adults either openly wept or remained stone-faced as the four reached the top of the sand-shrouded stairs.

  The journey to the glen was mercifully short, and the standstorm hid the sounds of despair and desperation they left behind. Falling to his knees in the soft grass of the glen the moment they arrived, Alec closed his eyes and swallowed against the pain.

  “Where to now?” he winced.

  “We need supplies to treat him,” Frederick said to the others, “unless we want to wait two weeks for him to heal. He’s still burdened by flesh and blood, unlike the rest of us.”

  Veleda’s sighed in frustration. “We have less than two days before the Resistance are found and overrun.” She hesitated, as if she wanted to add some other detail. Biting her lower lip, she looked at Frederick. “We need him in prime condition, if possible.”

  “Stenshuvud has what I need,” the commander said quietly. “But we must be quiet; the fortress is occupied by our enemy, and the Giddastuan giant is easily upset.”

  “The what?” Alec asked, but Fred motioned for him to wait.

  “So be it,” Veleda said. As she closed her eyes, the sky shifted from the deep amber of the setting sun to the black pitch of a moonless night. Gone was the hissing of the wind, replaced with a billowing roar that drew all eyes to a grand castle only a short walk away. The structure’s ramparts climbed high into the heavens, its white marble walls gleaming brightly in the darkness. A garrison of soldiers screamed in horror as they fought valiantly against a giant creature that ignored the hail of arrows, stones, and fire that they hurled at it. It reached over the walls with ease, scooping a dozen troops, armor and all, into its enormous maw.

  “So much for needing to be quiet,” Frederick said softly, awe filling his tone. Grabbing his spear, he motioned to M’lanth, who was already cloaked in misty shadows. The two hurried off into the surrounding woods.

  Closing his eyes, Alec fell into a fitful slumber.

  * * *

  “You had many chances to deliver. My patience has worn thin.” Whoever spoke sounded like they were used to being the sole voice of authority. “You could have simply left him for my men to capture if you didn’t have the heart to deliver him yourself.”

  Alec’s stomach knotted as he cracked his eyes open. Veleda was standing by the pool in the glen, speaking to water that had fountained upwards and taken the shape of an armored figure.

  “His escape was not my doing. Rest assured, you shall have him presented to you by next sundown, as promised,” Veleda hissed through clenched teeth.

  The fountain water wavered and dissipated, sinking once more into the placid pool. With a sigh of regret, the Seer looked to where Alec had been lying prone only to see him standing to her left. Gone from his face was any sense of compassion, gone was any sense of mercy, any warmth. He had an almost bored expression, but his anger was apparent.

  “Which of us do you plan to betray?” His voice was flat and emotionless as he requested the facts. “And to whom are you planning to sell them?” His hands balled into fists, knuckles white from the strain. “Is it me? Is that why you brought me here?”

  “This is not what you think,” she said.

  “Oh really?” Alec advanced, ignoring the rustling of the glen as it prepared to defend its friend. “Aren't you planning to sell me off?”

  “Only as a last resort.”

  “To The Scourge?”

  “Yes.” Veleda admitted, the word escaping her blackened lips in a sigh.

  “So they can do what? Kill a creator? Make my death a show of power?” His voice began to rise as fury filled him.

  “No, he wants to kill his creator!”

  “’His creator…’” Alec repeated the words as the weight of them fell upon him. He was the creator of the Scourge? The enemy these people fought against was his own doppelgänger? That was why the people of this world looked upon him with such awe and fear. “Why? I thought a doppelgänger’s mind only warped when its Creator died.”

  “He has already been broken from you.” Veleda’s back pressed against a tree, stopping the slow retreat she had been making as Alec spoke. Raising her arms in front of her face, she turned her head and closed her eyes as if anticipating blows of rage.

  “How is that possible?” Alec whispered through clenched teeth.

  “You stopped dreaming.”

  The weight of the pill dragged at Alec’s side. He paused his advance, and she hurried to explain.

  “He’s holding my family hostage unless I can deliver you by tomorrow night. If I don't, he’s going to kill them. I had hope that your banality would fade enough for you to challenge him. You could save my blood, and unseat him entirely, but only if your mind allows the fantastic within—”

  “You think I’m a lost cause?”

  Veleda cast her eyes to the ground. “Yes,” she answered. “I fear you are. You cannot face him. You built him when you were at your darkest.”

  “So why does he want to kill me?”

  “Those like your friend’s doppelgänger, who are close to their creators, have capabilities beyond the rest of us.” Realizing that he was not going to strike her, she stood straighter. “There is a myth that if a doppelgänger touches their creator, they will be absorbed and returned to their host’s mind. That is not what he wants. The Scourge has researched extensively, consulting many sources, and he is certain that if you die in his presence he can absorb your soul instead. If
he does this, he believes he will ascend to something greater than Ccreator or doppelgänger.”

  “How do you know this?” Alec asked.

  “He forced me to read his mind, to see if you still existed and if you would be a threat.”

  “Am I?” Her guardian laughed sarcastically. “You are a Seer, you pulled me into your land. Why don't you look into the darkest depths of my soul and find out for yourself what I am?”

  Alec spread his arms and leaned forward to offer himself to her. Hesitantly, she reached out one hand and touched two fingers to his eyes, placing another two about his lips. They exhaled as one, and the she recoiled in shock.

  “Are you happy with what you have seen?” Alec asked, “Do you see the darkness within?”

  “There is not just darkness within you.” Veleda clutched at her heart. “I know if that was true, I'd be dead already.”

  “I am a killer,” he confessed as he stepped closer to her, waiting for her to acknowledge his sins. “The darkness is mine to bear. I have repressed it with the restraints of civilized etiquette, but darkness is all I am, and it is my weapon, the dragon within me. Kindness and civility is just my mask.”

  “You have darkness inside of you,” Veleda said quietly. Her hands reached out until her fingers glided over his palms. “But that’s not all.” She brought Alec’s hands up in front of his chest. “These hands have also healed, and this heart,” one hand now rested on her guardian’s breast, “beats for those you’ve saved; and those who’ve saved you. You suggest you kill without regret; but while that’s true, you still bear the scars of your actions.”

  “Even if that’s the case, is there enough light to block out the dark?”

  “There’s enough to find the path,” Veleda smiled, “and by simply finding the path, you are moving forward.”

  Stepping away, Alec’s hand went to the pill bottle in his pocket. “What if I want to pretend this is a dream? What would you do then, now that you have seen something else in me?”

  She sighed and turned away. “If it's not too late, I would let you go. If you still see the shadows of the other world, you can return.”

  “Is there still a chance I can challenge The Scourge?”

  “Only if you allow yourself to dream. There is still hope to sever yourself from Banality.”

  Removing the phial from his pocket, Alec held it up for Veleda to see. “You’ve read my mind, what is this?”

  Her answer was hesitant, nervous. “A stabilizer. You were issued it after the assault.”

  “It was attempted murder, don't sugar-coat it,” he spat. “This is how they ‘helped’ me, and this is how they cursed your land. With this, I can hardly feel. With this, I cannot dream. I haven't taken it for several days, yet I don't feel different. Is dreaming lost to me?”

  The Seer’s tone was soft. “Allowing yourself to love, and to remember, can set you free.”

  “How can I remember to dream?” he pried.

  “Where we are going next may help,” she said.

  “And where's that?”

  “The Library of Dreams,” Veleda smiled softly. “Alexandria.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “It survived after all.” Alec stared in wonder at the building before him. “Here, in the dreamscape.”

  It was a great building of columns and arches, ringed by a modern circle of steel and glass, all built around a central towering ziggurat.

  “What should I expect to find? What am I looking for?” Alec wondered aloud.

  “Yourself,” M’lanth answered. “Every dream ever had by a creator is held within.”

  Dipping into the sand they stood upon with his hand, Alec stared in disbelief. “How? The dreamsands underneath us alone would fill several floors."

  “Unlike the sands, the library only holds the records of creators,” the shadow-knight said flatly. “The rest of us serve it, as is our ‘duty’.” She sneered the last word with naked hostility.

  “We are built upon each other,” Veleda said to M’lanth, who merely sucked her teeth in protest.

  “We’d best hurry,” the Seer continued. “Time is of the essence.” She strode forth, urging the others to follow as she approached the grand steps. Towering pillars, each one bearing styles of disparate cultures and periods, supported the roof. Jogging to keep up, Alec placed his foot upon the first step and paused when neither M’lanth nor Frederick followed.

  The shadow-knight turned her back and scanned for threats. “My place is best served guarding the gates,” she said.

  Frederick also turned away, refusing to look his friend in the eyes. “I dare not enter. There are rumors about that place; about those who refused to leave because they lost themselves. I don't think I could resist the urge to follow in kind. I am already so joined to this world that a single glance will lose me forever, be it at my dream or someone else's.”

  “A valid fear,” M’lanth agreed.

  “I'm sorry,” Frederick said softly, his eyes downcast.

  Alec hesitated, unsure whether or not he should offer comfort to his friend. Indecision rooted him in place for a few moments, but squaring his shoulders, he marched up the steps and grabbed the ornately carved door, holding it open for Veleda and following her inside.

  It was much larger within than without. Countless rows of shelves stretched as far as the eye could see, towering to bewildering heights. Far above, great stained-glass windows depicting mythical beasts let in dazzling displays of colored light that pranced across the infinite shelves. The light danced through the space as each image transformed into something new and equally bizarre.

  All this paled in comparison to the majestic crystalline beasts that stood even higher than the impossibly tall shelves. Egg-shaped bodies, pearlescent as opal, balanced on four multi-jointed legs. Some of the creatures stood patiently in the aisles, while others moved with purpose; roaming amongst the rows of books and organizing the infinite numbers of scrolls and tomes and tablets, or catching grains of floating dreamdust in their silken tentacles to be twisted into fine strands of fiber. These fibers were either woven before becoming a completed book, or were added to the pages of an existing volume. Seemingly weightless, the crystalline creatures moved silently, their bodies casting reflections in the polished granite floors that looked like stars dancing under their feet.

  “What am I looking for?” Alec asked Veleda in hushed tones, afraid that too loud a sound would attract a giant’s attention.

  “Old dreams,” Veleda whispered, “from before your ability to craft was lost. By finding them, maybe you will remember how you once crafted.”

  Facing the giants, the seer spread her arms and spoke in a voice not much louder than before. “Honored Librarians, I—Veleda of Neviah—request permission to view the stories of Crafter Alec LeGuerrier.”

  One of the waiting behemoths sank swiftly to the floor as its long tendrils flattened into a platform, and taking Alec’s hands in hers, Veleda stepped onto the makeshift dais.

  The giant creature moved impossibly fast. One moment, they stood at the entrance, and then there was a burst of colors, and a sudden pressure forced them against its satin appendages. When the pressure ceased, they were deep inside the library—so far in that Alec saw neither entrance nor exit, just endless rows of bookshelves.

  “Look,” Veleda pointed, “it’s you.”

  Alec stared at the volumes stacked on the shelves before him. He had once upon a time written romances filled with desires, charged bravely across lands in search of conquest, and defeated countless foes, and it was all there for him to live again and again in written word.

  “Careful,” Veleda warned. “Many have lost themselves in their past and failed to write their final stories.”

  Reaching over to a shelf tentatively, he pulled down a small children's book titled ’I Can Fly’. Trembling fingers spread the pages, and there he was, flying through oil paintings and pastel sketches. He felt the wind in his face, the softness of his childhood pajam
as, and heard his own child-like laughter as he spun in loops and spirals.

  He slammed the book closed and collapsed to his knees, his head shaking from side to side as tears ran like rivers down his cheeks.

  “I remember. I was five,” he whispered. “Mom and Dad let me stay up late to watch Superman, and I fell asleep on Dad’s chest.”

  Like a thirsty man on the edge of death who had spied a glass of water, he grabbed another book.

  He was a knight in shining armor who rode a dragon. On one arm, he wore a shield, while the other wielded a gargantuan lance. He was fighting for his kingdom, and his betrothed, Minné, who awaited rescue; for which she would reciprocate with…

  He was on a breakaway. Although his skates slipped over the ice and his stick corrected the puck, all he could hear was the crowd chanting his name. If he made the goal, it would be the overtime win that earned he and his team the Stanley Cup…

  “Careful, Alec,” Veleda warned. “You risk losing yourself.”

  He, Sylvain, and Kosi had known each other since college, and had enlisted together for various reasons. Tomorrow they were heading to basic, but for that night,

  they were three Musketeers, the most elite of his Majesty’s guards. They fought valiantly against Cardinal Richelieu’s men with nobility, honor, and panache. Crying out victoriously, Frederick swung himself over the gap between the floating airships. With a grunt, Kosi knocked aside the pistol that had been aimed at Alec’s heart while Sylvain ran their foe through with his rapier. The four had to act fast, because once the enemy airship was over France, it was going to drop chemicals that would make the ground infertile, forcing the French people into starvation…

  “Alec…” Veleda’s voice was distant as he feverishly grabbed another tome.

  Bullets flew through the sky, sounding like angry hornets as they passed by his head. Frederick was calling to him, but Alec didn't pay heed. He was too concerned with trying to stop the bleeding from Kosi’s chest to keep his friend alive.

  “Câlice, Alec. Find some cover.”

  “I got this! I can save him!” Alec knew as a medic that it was best to stay emotionally detached, to function like a machine, but he couldn't block out his feelings. Kosi wasn't just a friend; he was a brother. Their relationship had been forged over their entire lives and tempered in the heat of combat.