A Shrouded World | Book 8 | Asgard

by Tufo, Mark

  “It’s a little more scientific than that. I was going to read tea leaves first.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Kalandar says.

  “I suppose you have a better idea.”

  “Who said I’m going? I may have much better things to do than tag along on a wild goose chase.”

  “There will be big battles fought, adventures fraught with danger. But if you don’t want to be a part of them, I suppose you can just read about them in the paper,” I state.

  “Ha! My fighting prowess will be sung from the tallest mountains, mortal. My name will strike fear into all who hear it. Don’t want to be a part of it…Ha! It’s what I live for.”

  “Um, okay. It just sounded like you had better things to do.”

  “Nothing is better than battling against impossible odds and emerging victorious. Lead on, mortal.”

  “Yeah, and all that. But first, I need to get some rest,” I say.

  “Rest at the end. I’ll carry you,” Kalandar states.

  “Yeah, um, no thanks. I know where at least one of those hands has been. I’m good.”

  The demon reaches out toward me, his hand open and ready to clench me in his rather large grasp. I backpedal out of reach, saying, “Nope, nope, nope.”

  “Oh very well. Here we will rest a while, but not for long.”

  I find a semi-comfortable spot that’s shaded and hidden from the desert below.

  “If you touch me while I’m sleeping, we’re going to have words,” I tell Kalandar as I lay my head down.

  “If I wanted to touch you, mortal, there would be nothing you could do about it,” Kalandar responds, chuckling.

  While that is entirely true, I don’t reply. Instead, I lie in the shadows of a ravine and ponder my next move. I’ll need to locate the whistler portal, as Trip said back on the whistler planet, but that could lie in any direction. The odds of me randomly choosing correctly are minuscule. With that cheerful thought, I close my eyes.

  As the sun wends its way toward the late afternoon, Kalandar and I set out down the mountain. The direction chosen was done by the scientific method of tossing a stick in the air and heading out whichever way it pointed. At least it’s a direction, and if we’re wrong, we’ll just choose another. Although I will admit, I’m rather tired of all this walking. It seems that’s been the usual method of transport Mike and I have used to cross the surface of the planets we’ve visited. Next time, I’d like the option of calling a taxi or some kind of shuttle service.

  As we stroll out onto the desert floor, heading toward the line of hills to our front, I want to ask the demon about his involvement as an enforcer. However, I’m hesitant, as I don’t know how he’ll react. He might just pound my head into the sand rather than talk about it. The archives at the control point mentioned guilt as a factor for the enforcers walking away. Normally, I’d just blurt out whatever was on my mind; the consequences confirm that I need a better filter between my brain and mouth. However, this is one of the rare instances where I actually listen to the little man inside my head.

  “So, what would you like to talk about to make this hike a little more interesting?” I ask.

  “Is there a reason for us to talk at all?”

  “Usually, no. I’d be more than happy with the silence. Hell, I’d even encourage it. But you know, if you need to get anything off your chest, now’s the time.”

  Kalandar looks down, prodding at his muscular chest. “Why would I need to get something off that isn’t there?”

  “No, ya big oaf. That’s just a saying. It means that if you want to unburden yourself of some type of psychological baggage you’ve been carrying around, the best way to do that is to talk about it.”

  “You mortals are a strange lot,” Kalandar responds. “If something was a burden, I’d merely smash it until it wasn’t.”

  I sigh and shake my head. Not surprisingly, being subtle doesn’t appear to be a demon’s strong suit.

  “Let’s take a different tack. Have you always been a demon?”

  Kalandar pauses for a brief moment, looking down sharply at me. “Of course I have. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “So, you weren’t like, well, you know, an enforcer?” I inquire.

  The demon’s gaze grows more concentrated and fiercer. I may have overstepped my bounds and was about to meet the consequences. At least it’ll be quick.

  “Where did you hear that? Someone has been telling stories,” Kalandar finally replies.

  “No one was telling tales, per se. I read the archives.”

  “I see.”

  I don’t know from the flat tone of his reply whether he’s contemplating getting rid of witnesses to what happened, or he’s merely absorbed in other thoughts.

  “What do you know of the story?” he finally asks.

  “Whatever I could piece together from the small amount of data we were able to access. Basically, the overseers and travelers developed opposing philosophies on how the lifeforms were to be treated and allowed to develop. The whistlers emerged, and the enforcers were sent to quell the incursions. But they lost so many in the battles, they aligned their beliefs more with the overseers, joining their cause of a controlled development for all life in order to prevent such loss of life in the future.

  “Together, the two groups rebelled against the travelers, either destroying them or locking them away like the whistlers did. Then, the enforcers realized they had made a mistake as the overseers took complete control and started resetting timelines, fabricating narrow parameters that every lifeform must follow or be destroyed. So, the enforcers dispersed and fled throughout the universes, treating them like playgrounds and forgetting what their original mission was, forgoing any involvement. How am I doing so far?”

  “You only have bits and pieces, but from a broad perspective, that’s the gist,” Kalandar answers.

  “So, fill me in on what parts I’m missing,” I say.

  “Those days weren’t easy. Many of us didn’t come home from the whistler wars and we’d grown discouraged. Some talked of the overseer philosophy, knowing if we were to survive, then we couldn’t get immersed in a war like that again. If lifeforms were controlled, then we could prevent war. So, we did align with them. But, we didn’t know what they had in mind for the travelers. Had we known what the overseers planned for them, not many of us would have helped with their rebellion. And that’s the true reason for our departure. There are many who have forgotten what they once were, jumping from one world to another in order to fulfill their own desires,” Kalandar states.

  “But, isn’t that what you’re doing? Jumping around and seeking battle for your own glory lust?”

  “What can we do? The overseers have grown too powerful. But, before you get all judgmental, there are still a few pieces you’re missing,” Kalandar says, the sun sinking lower to the horizon.

  “As I said, fill me in.”

  “An important part for us were the creators. The travelers attached lifeforms to the flow of light and the overseers administrated on a day-to-day basis. We made sure the policies were enforced. However, there were times when all three groups required assistance and the creators would step in to give a guiding hand and keep the peace. And I mean keep the peace in a different way than what the enforcers did. The creators ensured that the three governing groups all had the same end goal. That was the protection of lifeforms when they emerged, attaching them to the flow, and then letting them develop. Keep in mind that this was long ago when we all still had the same forms.

  “Now there were times when we had to intervene, but that was rare, and all lifeforms were left to their own, for the most part. Then, the creators vanished. Poof. They were just gone. We searched throughout the worlds for any sign of them, but were unable to find the smallest hint. We continued doing what we were made to do. The travelers attached worlds to the stream, the overseers provided their logistical support, and the enforcers took care of any anomalies that surfaced.

&nbs
p; “All the while, we continued our search. After an eon, some of our philosophies began to diverge. Those differences were magnified as time went on. The travelers and overseers began to see things much differently. And then the whistlers broke free of their prison and the rest you know. In the deep dark shadows of the universes, whispers surface that the creators are merely asleep and that their waking will bring the three groups back together.”

  “And I suppose those whispers don’t mention the location?” I inquire.

  “We have searched high and low without finding the barest hint of their existence.”

  “So all we have to do is find them, somehow bring them out of their nap, and all will be right,” I say.

  “That’s a mighty fine theory you have there.”

  “Yeah, it’s never as easy as it should be.”

  Kalandar chuckles. “No, you only have to ask your other friend about that.”

  “Which other friend? Do you mean Trip?”

  “I believe that’s the one. The one who looks like he’s been stretched a bit thin.”

  “Yep, that’s Trip.”

  “You know he was a traveler,” Kalandar states.

  “Was? What do you mean was?”

  “You’ve seen his mind. He’s not entirely all there.”

  “That’s kind of an understatement,” I reply.

  “You know, the travelers have the power to connect and sever life with their thoughts. Or at least they used to. That’s something the overseers can never hope to accomplish. As I said, we made a mistake in supporting them, but they’ve grown too powerful. The only reason you haven’t tasted the full measure of their power is because they think you and your friends are too far beneath them. They don’t want to waste the energy.”

  “So, were there any theories back in the day as to why the creators went to sleep?”

  “It’s not certain they went to sleep,” Kalandar responds. “The only thing we knew for sure is that they were no longer with us.”

  “Okay, fair enough. Were there any theories about why, and I guess, how, they vanished?”

  “There were plenty, but none that made any sense. They were the most powerful beings in all of creation, so I don’t see any other beings who could have done it,” Kalandar answers.

  “You’re implying they did it to themselves.”

  “It’s the only logical reasoning we could come up with. But we became stuck on the why.”

  “Did someone piss them off?”

  “Not that we are aware of. It was a harmonious time,” Kalandar replies.

  “Could it have been a rift among the creators? After all, the travelers, overseers, and enforcers all had theirs.”

  “We saw nothing like that.”

  “Hmmm…well, we should probably table this conversation for a later time. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s about to get dark. That means we’ll more than likely have visitors,” I say.

  “Ah, wonderful! I haven’t had a good fight in a long while.”

  Purples and reds and oranges flare across the edge of the world, a few high thin clouds catching fire as the last of the sun’s rays stream above the horizon. The light fades quickly from the desert floor with only the tips of the mountains ahead, behind, and those very far in the distance to the right still holding a smattering of light. The air holds barely a whisper of wind as it cools with the sun’s departure, bringing a slight chill where there had only been heat.

  Kalandar and I take positions near enough to each other to give support but far enough away that I’m not clobbered by his long-reaching arms. I suppose if I had been thinking, we would’ve held to the hills for the night as those are more easily defended locations. Of course, that would’ve meant crossing during the day and the heat, but as I watch darkness close upon the land, I’m wondering if that wouldn’t have been the lesser of two evils.

  The lightshow on the horizon fades, becoming just a thin strip of yellow pushing back against the enclosing night. I have a ready supply of ammo, but that never seems to last very long. If the night runners show, I know I’ll be relying more on Kalandar to dispose of them. I’m not sure if he’ll do his ground-pound hulk smash, but I’ll have to watch out for that. I also remember that he has some sort of ring of fire thing he can enact.

  The night finally comes, plunging the land into darkness. Overhead, stars glitter like tiny diamonds, the night so clear and crisp you can almost reach out and touch them. However, the serenity of the open desert at night is shattered by the formation of thin, vertical silver lines. Standing over six feet tall, the lines start to rotate horizontally, creating a portal of white through which the night runners emerge. Shrieks fill the night air, echoing across an empty desert, as the hunters discover our scent.

  As each night runner is deposited, the portals snap closed. The pale forms of these deadly creatures shimmer faintly under the starlight. No matter how many times I’ve heard it, the sound of a night runner on the hunt sends a shiver up my body. Adrenaline courses through me as I bring my M–4 up to my shoulder. Quickly glancing around, I ensure that the creatures are materializing from only one direction.

  Kalandar lets out a roar that drowns out the screams of the night runners, beating his fists against his chest like some primal creature. The sound of footfalls thrumming across the desert floor pound like a drum ritual. The desert in front is swarming with pale figures sprinting toward us. With another roar, Kalandar takes off to meet their charge.

  I take the nearest in my sights, placing my reticule center mass and thanking anyone who might listen that I don’t have to make head shots. It’s difficult enough keeping in line with the bouncing bodies; hitting something running, consistently, in the head is next to impossible. With my thumb, I ensure I’m on semi-auto and pull the trigger. Kicking against my shoulder, the suppressed shot is lost in the din of roars and shrieks.

  The round smacks into the night runner just to the side of the sternum, exiting out of the lower back in a spray of blood. The creature stumbles forward, its feet trying to keep pace with a body that stopped fully functioning. With blood starting to flow from its mouth and nostrils, the night runner pitches forward, sliding across the desert floor like a runner trying to make it home. I don’t know if I killed it, but it’s no longer tearing after us. Right now the goal is just to slow down their onslaught.

  Kalandar meets the rushing line head-on. With a backhanded sweep of his arm, two night runners are hurled away, their ghostly forms disappearing into the night. With his other arm, the demon snags yet a third night runner. Kalandar lifts his victim over his head and slams the squirming creature into the ground, silencing its screams. A ring of dust flies out from the body’s impact.

  Two night runners stumble over the body but quickly regain their balance. Kalandar, unmindful of lanes of fire, has chosen to stand right in the middle of mine. Taking aim off to the side, wary of hitting the big red demon, I quickly locate another target. The night runners seem to have focused their attention on the demon creating havoc in their midst.

  Speeding across the short intervening distance, my second round takes a night runner in the neck. The meaty smack of a bullet finding flesh is more sensed than heard. Dark liquid sprays into the night, the night runner’s life force quickly exiting its body. The creature falls to its knees and then plants face first into the ground, the sand silently absorbing the blood which continues to gush from the wound.

  Kalandar has grabbed a night runner in each of his hands, holding them by the legs. He flails one after the other into those storming around him. The crunch of bone on bone is almost sickening, blood spraying in all directions. Time and time again he beats at the creatures with their own kind, until he’s left holding nothing but bloodied lumps of flesh. Tossing the two corpses aside, he picks up two more from the crowd.

  The demon stands tall as a pillar of red amid a sea of pale white. He continues flailing with the bodies, as night runners are tossed in a circle of destruction. Although I’m shooti
ng in the general direction of Kalandar, with him being surrounded, I at least have safer targets to choose from. In such a killing frenzy, who knows how he’d react to being shot? I certainly wouldn’t want him to turn on me and be hit by one of those broken night runners flopping in his grasp.

  I was standing a ways back from the central fight, very much aware that I’m still in the open. However, the night runners seem very keyed on Kalandar. I don’t imagine that’ll last much longer once they find a new target, one much easier to take down. At that point, at least for me, it will be a fighting retreat. I can only hope that the demon substantially thins their numbers.

  I keep firing into night runners prowling the fringes of the main battle, all shrieking and pushing forward in an attempt to get at Kalandar, as if the battle will be over if only they are the ones to reach him. But I also know night runners are intelligent; they won’t keep up the losing fight for very long. Although I can’t imagine what other strategy they might go to out here in the open.

  Night runner after night runner falls to my rounds and Kalandar’s ministrations. Pressed in on all sides, he discards his latest pair of body hammers and raises his giant fist. I have an idea what’s coming but I don’t know if it’s going to be launched in a specific direction or at the inner ring around him. The ring makes the most sense. I start backpedaling away, still firing into the masses of night runners surrounding the demon.

  He slams his fist into the ground with tremendous force. Dust and chunks of earth fly up from the impact along with several night runners. Holding his fist to the ground, I can see the strain on the demon’s face. The forceful blast expands outward, the ground rolling like a slow wave. Large chunks of earth are thrust up by the miniature earthquake, sending scores of night runners stumbling to their knees while others are flung from the perimeter.

  Raising his fist again, he again plunges it down. This time the eruption is magnified. Night runners and clods of earth explode up and outward. Even though I had backed away, it apparently wasn’t far enough, as night runners and dirt begin to fall around me like rain. Staggering and trying to avoid falling bodies, I take notice of the equally stumbling night runners attempting to gain their feet. And just like that, I’m now inside the perimeter I was hoping to keep clear of.