Beyond the Pale (26 page)
The only hitch,
Lethe thought as Billy continued to climb,
is that Thayla was wrong.
Dead wrong.
The night air clung to Ryan like a wet blanket, causing sweat to prickle on his brow and run down his face as he climbed the metal ladder of the ancient amusement park tower. He tried not to remember the last time he had been on this tower.
The fall down the ladder was still a vivid memory, the sense of flying through the air just before crashing through the hard branches into the trees below. He had nearly made it out alive, and ironically it had been Burnout who had stopped Ryan then.
Now, Ryan grabbed the cool metal rungs of the ladder and continued his climb. Just below him Talon hung on, a grim look on his face. He had done exceptionally well thus far, but whether he could successfully cast and survive the powerful ritual that Harlequin called upon him to perform was a question no one wanted to ask. The chances were slim. Everyone knew that.
Ryan reached the bottom of the platform—a huge donut shape that hung onto the tower by rusted clamps on a welded track. There was no obvious way in from below, but the ladder continued up inside the center of the donut.
Harlequin appeared next to him, floating in midair. “The ladder goes up through the center. We’ll have to put the ritual circle on the roof.”
Ryan nodded, but kept his focus on climbing. He had no fear of heights, but he knew that any distractions, any slips, could mean death.
A few more meters in near blackness and Ryan came to a metal hatch overhead. It didn’t seem to be locked, but it was rusted shut. Ryan slammed a fist into it, jarring bits of flaking metal loose. He tried it again, pushing hard.
The hatch creaked open on hinges that hadn’t moved in a hundred years, screeching with resistance. Ryan squeezed up through and onto the roof of the observation platform. The roof was rusted metal and curved down slightly at the edge. There were no safety wires along the rim, which meant they’d have to be careful. The drop to the ground was nearly two hundred meters, and Ryan could feel the tower sway in the light breeze.
Harlequin waited in the center, next to the lightning rods. “We don’t have much time,” he said. “If Darke manages to complete the bridge, we’ll all die. Or worse. Even others like us won’t be able to stop them.”
Talon pushed his head through the hatch, and crawled up onto the roof. He lay there for a few seconds, breathing hard from the climb.
Axler, Grind, and Billy joined them. Axler immediately began measuring wire for safety harnesses. As she cut it, Talon stood and dug through his bag for the candle.
Harlequin moved next to Talon, talking to him in low tones.
Ryan watched as Talon went into a trance of sorts, taking in everything the elf mage was saying while pacing a preliminary perimeter for the ritual circle. Harlequin and Aina would lend their strength to the spell, but Talon would be required to perform all the physical components of the dance.
Axler and Grind attached one end of the safety wires to
an eyelet in the center of the platform, then passed the
other end to each of the runners. Ryan looped himself in, then made sure that Talon was secure.
The mage’s frame was slight, thin compared to Ryan’s bulk, and he was obviously exhausted from the run. Still, he seemed to be holding up and was in better shape than a lot of mages Ryan knew.
“Jane,” Ryan said, “Axler and Grind will remain physical and watch over our bodies, but we don’t know what kind of opposition to expect.”
“Understood,” Jane said. “Dhin and I are monitoring you. There’s no sign of pursuit; their attention seems to be focused on the Locus.”
“Bossman, I’m bringing a helo in from Carswell, and a T-bird as well. A little extra firepower in case you need it later.”
“Thanks.”
Talon pulled stray strands of his dark hair back away from his face and tied them into his ponytail. Then he began to chant in Sperethiel, the words whispered to him from Harlequin. Talon had lit his narrow blue candle, and was dripping it along the edge of the platform, creating an elaborate pattern.
“Billy,” Talon said, fully entranced now. “Please lie in the center of the circle. Ryan, put the Dragon Heart next to him.”
Billy complied with Talon’s request, and Ryan unwrapped the Heart from its sash. He placed the sash on the rusted metal and set the Heart carefully on the sash.
When Talon had closed the circle, concentrating on the intricate patterns that Harlequin had instructed him to make, the mage walked slowly to where Billy was lying. Talon dripped hot wax around and over the cyberzombie’s body. The candle wasn’t big enough to cover all of Billy’s body, so Talon dripped the wax in a crisscrossing lattice pattern. He continued his low chanting while he worked, the song helping to block out the beating of the drums that came from the hillside far below.
The smell of tallow and smoke met Ryan’s nose as Talon finished with Billy and moved on to cover the Dragon Heart with the last of the candle wax. Ryan felt the power of the ritual, amazed at Talon’s skill with the arcane. The young human had the gift in a way few others did.
Abruptly, Talon rose, trance-like. “It is time,” he said to Ryan, then he began to pace a circle just inside the perimeter, and indicated for Ryan to follow suit.
Ryan complied, dancing exactly in the footsteps left behind by Talon. The sensation began immediately—the strange out-of-body duality creeping over him as he walked. They made one complete circle just inside the perimeter, then began to spiral toward the center.
The tapestry of power twisted around them, solidifying into a barrier of mana as the ritual neared its climax. Finally, they reached the center and Ryan’s body slumped next to Talon’s.
They rose into astral space.
A split second of recognition. Talon appeared, his stature much larger here in the magical realm. The astral forms of Harlequin and Aina hovered next to him, looking just as they had manifested.
There was a moment of gut-sinking dread as Ryan floated next to Talon, waiting alongside Aina and Harlequin, All waiting to see if Talon was strong enough to bring Billy and the Dragon Heart across.
Mana from the ritual glowed blue and green around them, a dense mesh that was nonetheless nearly overwhelmed by the huge forces of blood magic that swirled up outside the ritual circle from the Locus and the
teocalli.
Then, as if in slow motion, Billy’s body faded into astral space as it disappeared from the physical world. Possessed by Lethe, the cyberzombie shone like a beacon, a silver shimmer against the blue-green backdrop.
The Dragon Heart loomed into existence as well—a golden sun of pure power, casting its light over them all.
Ryan looked at himself. His aura showed turmoil.
Can Harlequin be right about me? Can I be more than I know?
For a fraction of an instant, the team hung in astral space inside the ritual circle. Then they were gone, shifted into the metaplanes. Projected into the worlds beyond.
Lucero scooped up unfortunate souls by the tens and slammed them into the extending rock outcropping. Screams ripped the air as she worked, ecstasy building inside her.
I must please them. The
tzitzimine.
They will reward me.
Lucero no longer cared that she was a creature of essence and blood, a stew of guts and magic. A blood spirit conjured up from the remains of her own dead and bleeding corpse. She barely felt the constant, searing pain of her nature. She hardly remembered being alive. None of that mattered now.
Everything of importance was here. Everything that had ever mattered to her coalesced on this one task. The completion of the bridge.
The gap closed, narrowed until she could see details of the creatures working on the other side. They were huge and hideous. Drones of black and red—faceless, veined slugs—worked in the front. Behind them were larger monsters of spectral green and burgundy with many barbed, spiny tentacles and an amorphous globular central body. White steam drifted in and around them, and Lucero smelled the wracking stench of it like the essence of a thousand rotting and maggot-riddled corpses.
Further back were more creatures, each unique, more powerful, and ultimately cunning than those in front. Pulling the strings. These were the true
tzitzimine.
The ones who would free her.
Such loveliness,
she thought.
Such abject generosity and benevolence.
Joy filled Lucero as she smashed the souls of more sacrifices into the stone beneath her feet. Sheer pleasure coursed through her as she narrowed the gap. As she extended the span of rock to the brink of touching.
Oscuro moved up next to her, coming to help with the last meter. “This is a glorious moment,” he said to Lucero.
The two of them stopped when the two sides of the bridge hung only a fraction of a centimeter apart, a narrow membrane between worlds. Oscuro looked up to face the horde of creatures. He bowed his dark head and spread his arms wide. Lucero could see the bloodless crisscross wounds on his forearms, where he had cut himself with the obsidian knife.
The spirits of the sacrifices pressed in behind him like a mounting wave of souls. Oscuro lifted his voice. “Welcome, my masters! I give you the world!”
He threw his head back, grinning wildly as his wounds opened up. The gaping cuts passed through his body, forming crescent-shaped holes all the way through his flesh. The sacrificed spirits behind him seemed to be sucked toward Oscuro, passing into his back, then shooting from his wounds in jets of blood.
Maniacal glee gripped Oscuro, holding his face in a rictus grin. The gouts of blood shot from his arms and landed on the last vestige of a gap between the two expanses of the bridge. Sacrifices funneled into him, giving his skin a glowing red hue. A ruddy, flushed appearance.
Lucero watched as the blood sealed the bridge, as Oscuro stood rigid against the onslaught of spirits. She watched with growing anticipation as the last of the sacrifices plunged into Oscuro’s body, as the last bits of the crimson fluid spat from the gashes in his arms, spraying the joint where the two spans met.
The red glow faded from Oscuro’s skin, and he sank to the ground. Overcome from the exertion.
A moment passed as the blood seeped into the cracks. A single beat of a distant drum, a faint heartbeat followed by utter silence.
An instant of hesitation.
Then, like a tsunami, the creatures surged toward them. They came in a mad rush, crawling over each other without regard.
Suddenly, Lucero knew they would destroy her. They cared nothing for her freedom. They had merely been controlling her so that she would help them.
She fled from the horde. She flew back the way she had come, the expanse much farther than she had thought possible. The cliff of her home plane seemed so distant, so small and remote.
The horde gained on her, trampling over the exhausted Oscuro as they neared. On her heels now.
I’m not going to make it,
she knew suddenly.
Seconds later, she fell under their onslaught. The dense black of innumerable bodies surrounded her, and she was lost under their insane rush.
Trampled. Snuffed out just like the rest of the world would be once they reached the other side.
What have I done?
Lucero wondered.
I have failed you, Thayla. I fear I have doomed the entire universe.
Ryan floated in the dark void of metaplanar limbo. Gone were the auras of the
teocalli
and the Locus, the sacrifices and the drums. Gone was the aura of the tower jutting into the hot night sky, the observation platform rusting at its apex.
Axler and Grind had vanished, remaining in the physical world to protect the bodies of both Ryan and Talon. Even the auras of Harlequin, Aina, Talon, and Lethe had disappeared, giving way to a realm of his very own. The place in himself that he had to face solo.
Ryan drifted alone and in absolute silence as he waited for the coalescence that would come soon. The test.
The dweller on the threshold.
It came an instant later, taking the same shape it had the first time. A small dracoform of fiery red, standing on its hind legs. Its eyes were the color of Ryan’s own—blue with flecks of quicksilver.
It had called itself a drake the last time, saying that it had once served Dunkelzahn, just as Ryan served him now. It had tested Ryan, showing him that he had the power to banish an elemental.
Dunkelzahn had never indicated that Ryan had this ability.
Why?
“You have come again, Ryanthusar,” the drake said. “Like the phoenix.”
Ryan inhaled sharply. Then, “I bring Lethe and the Dragon Heart to stop the Enemy from coming.”
“I know this, of course,” said the drake. “I am like a mirror. I know what you know.”
“What is the test this time?” Ryan asked. “Let’s get on with it. I don’t have time to waste.”
The drake smiled. “Perhaps there is none,” it said. “Your soul is pure, your heart clean. You are willing to die a hero’s death in order to save the universe.”
