Edda (23 page)

Chapter 23

HARALD AND ERIK

It was after
dark in Hope Library and all was quiet. There were slight motions from the seated figures nearby: Anonemuss and Inny were both immersed in Saga; Erik and Gunnar—well, they could be anywhere, but they, too, were sitting back, twitching and muttering beneath their headsets. Harald’s attention was on his son. Physically, Erik was slender; some might even consider him frail-looking. As a boy Erik had been as lively as any of the other children in the village, but watching their rough-and-tumble games had brought out sharp protective feelings in Harald. A residue of that emotion survived, and it pained Harald that while he sat right next to Erik’s body, he could not be at his son’s side in battle in the electronic world.

The fact that Erik’s remaining human companion was the conservative, middle-aged Gunnar made Harald look at his son with new eyes. It could easily be someone else with Gunnar’s values sitting there instead of Erik. At least with Erik you could be sure the people of Saga would never be abandoned. And nothing Gunnar could say would sway him. A smile came to Harald’s face as he remembered the determination and independence of his son; how Erik had fought the previous rulers of New Earth for Harald’s sake and for the sake of a more just government.

This was no child lying beside him. It was a young man of considerable mental strength. And this person, of whom any parent would be proud, was his own son.

All at once there was motion. Gunnar and Erik were sitting up and unclipping themselves from their consoles. Over at the main desk, Thorstein, the librarian, looked up and called out a greeting. After stretching his arms wide, Gunnar wiped the sweat from his bald head, then noticed Harald.

“It’s madness in there. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What’s happening?”

“Let me refresh myself, then I’ll tell you.” Gunnar glanced at Erik, who had removed his headset. “Your son made all the difference in our last battle. But one of the people from Saga died. It was awful. I felt so helpless.”

“Who?”

“Milan.”

Erik gave a nod of confirmation and Harald could see the tears in his son’s eyes.

“I’ll meet you over by the food, when you’re ready. You can tell me about it then.”

Near the entrance to the library was a table with plenty of fresh bread, olives, and cheese provided for the team and after visiting the bathrooms, Gunnar and Erik came over to it.

With an encouraging smile across his fleshy features, Thorstein got up from behind his desk to join them.

“How is it going?”

“In one sense, it’s going well,” replied Erik with a glum voice that belied his words. “We’ve made progress, and entered a whole new world, a war-torn city that goes on for miles.”

“Oh yeah? How interesting.”

“Yeah, but Milan, one of our friends from Saga, was killed getting us there.”

The cheerful expression on Thorstein’s face faded at once. “Oh dear. That’s sad.”

“Terribly sad. And it’s a warning about what might happen if armies from these other worlds invade Saga. Millions of people could die.”

“Have you discovered who built the portals?” Harald asked. “Perhaps they don’t realize that the whole population of Saga has become sentient. Perhaps they think it’s just another game, full of NPCs.”

“No. There’s no sign of anyone in charge yet. But I’m hoping the same as you: that they’ll stop when they realize they are taking away real lives.”

“Have you got time to post something about this for the bulletin boards? The government is begging me for information.”

“Not really. Sorry, Thorstein. We’re going to carry on in about thirty minutes and I want a quick chat with Harald before we go in again.” Seeing that the librarian looked slightly crestfallen, Erik patted him on the arm. “I’ll write something next break, I promise. I know the world is watching, but there’s just Gunnar and I left, and I don’t like leaving Ghost and Athena for too long—especially as the other person we are with, Jodocus . . . well, I don’t trust him at all now.”

“What if I take a few notes while you eat and then post them?”

“Sure.”

In between mouthfuls, Erik explained the course of the battle to Thorstein, placing cutlery on the surface of the table to show the outline of the compound and using an olive to show Cindella’s position. Gunnar watched in silence until Erik got to the part about Milan being hit by a tank shell.

“I didn’t see it myself; I was too busy fighting,” said Erik, looking toward his partner.

“It was awful.” Gunnar stopped picking at the food on his plate. “I put grease on the burns and started to bandage him. But black lumps of his skin kept coming off. The poor lad. It was really sickening.” Gunnar put his plate down, half full and pushed it away. His eyes were damp and for the first time since meeting him, Harald felt some warmth toward this official. Perhaps some of Gunnar’s coldness toward EI people was wearing off, either because he was learning from Erik or through his appreciation of the personalities of Ghost and her friends.

Erik turned back to Thorstein, who was still taking notes as fast as he could. “Soon after that, Jodocus—the elementalist—came over to us with a damaged air elemental. Now don’t write about this, because we haven’t figured out what is going on, but the way he acted was suspicious. He suggested that Anadia must have been shot by a missile. I don’t believe that could have happened. Her chariot crashed to the ground right next to me, but there was no sign of any missiles or anything capable of destroying her. And when I looked around the battlefield, I couldn’t find Jodocus or his elemental. Do you see? Where was he? Where was his air elemental? Why had he summoned an air elemental when we had the birds already? Why not a stone one? And the one place I couldn’t have spotted the air elemental was high up in the sky, hidden by the birds.”

“So that’s why you are keeping information from him now? Like about Ghost being a RAL?” asked Gunnar.

“Right.”

Harald was confused. “But why would Jodocus want to kill Anadia? Weren’t they the last two surviving people in their world?”

“I’m not sure.” Erik frowned. “Jodocus was accused of murdering an EI in Myth and was thrown off their governing council. When I first heard about this, I was on his side and believed his denials, but now I don’t know. What about you, Gunnar?”

Gunnar looked somber and rested his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat. “No. You’re right,” he pronounced, as if in judgment. “I don’t believe him. I think perhaps he has such a deep grudge against the other EIs in Myth that he’s out to get revenge on them all.”

“Yeah, I think something like that.”

“That’s the reason he gives for wanting to come along with us, too,” continued Gunnar. “Vengeance. Vengeance on the EI who destroyed Myth. In his own way he might be as ferocious in his feelings as the Dark Queen. Maybe he’s ambitious and wants to be the only EI alive in all the different worlds.”

For a while no one said anything, mulling this over.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Thorstein raised his eyebrows. “Or is that crazy?”

“No, it’s not crazy,” answered Erik. “I nearly did. But this guy is tough; he is prepared to torture his own body to wield the powers of his elementals. And if we confront him, there’s a danger he could turn against us and kill us all.”

“He’s that strong?” Harald did not like this new development.

“Well, not him, but his elementals; they are very powerful.”

“So what do you think we should do about Jodocus?” asked Gunnar.

“Currently, I’m just waiting to see what happens. He’s helping us get through these portals, at least.” Erik glanced up at Gunnar, and Harald noticed with interest that the older man seemed to be deferring to the judgment of his son. Early on, in Saga, it had seemed that Gunnar had wanted to make the decisions for the team, but now matters had gone so far and become so serious that Gunnar was less full of himself.

“What’s your opinion, Gunnar?” asked Harald.

“Carry on. Get a better understanding of what is at stake. And . . . well, since the death of Milan, I’ve been reconsidering my attitude toward the people of Saga. We have to do what we can to stop an invasion of Saga. Then, when we’re done, we should leave all these grim worlds and never come back.”

With a smile for his companion, Erik shook his head.

“We have completely different attitudes about the electronic worlds. For you, they are simply a threat. For me, they are mysterious and while they can be dangerous, they contain the possibility of meeting new forms of life and perhaps new communities of humans in avatar form.”

“I wish I’d never agreed to come and it was someone else representing our community in there. Another person like you, perhaps, who believes our future will be improved, not worsened, through these worlds. But I am there and I feel . . . shaken . . . about Milan, so I’ll do what I can to help Athena and Ghost.”

“Well said, Gunnar.” Harald held out his hand to the man, and after a slight hesitation, Gunnar shook it. Then Harald turned back to his son.

“So you think Jodocus is a murderer?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t be certain?”

“Right.”

“Well, do you need him?”

“He’s a one-man army.”

“All right then. Just be vigilant. For the sake of Ghost and Athena.”

“I know.” Erik paused. “It’s getting tougher. And there’s no one to ask if I have to make a quick decision—well, just you, Gunnar. And . . . you know . . . I just wish you were there, too.”

Harald reached up to clasp Erik’s shoulder. “So do I. But don’t worry. You’re the right person to be doing this. And not just because of Cindella. Your judgment of people and situations is to be trusted.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Go clip up.”

“I will soon. But”—he glanced wishfully at Inny—“tell her I was thinking of her. And is there any news to take to Ghost?”

“It’s all going well in Saga. Any army trying to march through that portal will meet fierce opposition. Our main concern is that another portal might open up somewhere. But the people of Saga have been alerted, and we have survey teams going through the less densely populated areas. The guild leaders are rather slow to make decisions, though, about the reorganization of the factories to produce weapons, about how to create an army, who should be general, that kind of thing. They want us to get in touch with Ghost and get her opinion on everything. I’ve maybe a hundred questions to put before her on their behalf.”

Erik shook his head with a smile. “She hates that kind of thing.”

“I know. I keep telling them that her answer is ‘you decide,’ and they just come back with another question.” Harald smiled, too. “Oh well. They’ll get there in the end. In the meantime, don’t worry about us; we are ready to stop an army, or even two armies.”

“In that case, I’m going back in.”

“Good luck, son.”

They shook hands and Erik stood up.

“Gunnar, I’m going back in. I’ll see you there when you’re done eating.”

“I’m finished.” Gunnar came back to the console area. Brushing a stray crumb from the lapels of his tweed jacket, Gunnar settled into his chair again, attaching the equipment to his head and hands. Erik soon followed suit, but not before pausing beside Inny and gently touching her hair. While Thorstein went to file a report, Harald went to stand outside and breathe the cool air beneath the night sky. While he was looking at the stars, wondering in which direction were the planets containing the servers for all these new electronic worlds, Inny came out to join him.

“Thorstein tells me I just missed Erik.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Inny. He asked me to say he was thinking of you. Should I have brought you out of Saga?”

“I don’t know. It’s hectic there. But do so next time, please.”

“Certainly.”

“How is he?”

“Tired, upset, because Milan died. But still going strong all the same.”

“Milan died? How?”

“They had to battle through one of the portals.”

“That’s awful. How will we tell his friends back in Saga?”

“It is very sad. Such a young kid, too.”

Injeborg said nothing for a while and crickets that had fallen silent as if to listen to the humans resumed their calls.

“I’m worried, Harald. Of course Erik can’t be harmed physically, but what he’s seeing in there—won’t it make him a bleaker person?”

“Bleaker?”

“With all the violence and death, he might come away from this odyssey with sadness deep in his heart.”

“Sad, certainly, but he’ll still be the Erik we know now. And whatever happens, he’ll still love you.”

“Thank you, Harald. I just wish I was there with him.”

“As do I.”

It was still daytime in the ruined city, although the sky was turning purple and the sun was below the horizon of shattered buildings. Everyone seemed ready to move on: Athena with her satchel straps over one shoulder, Ghost with the Atanski across her back instead of her beloved airboard, the youthful and handsome-seeming Gunnar, and the ponderous Jodocus, who traveled with a light backpack over his cloak and who kept his bandaged arms free of any load.

“Welcome back,” Ghost greeted Cindella with a smile. “We’re not too far from that building. I went up again. We will be able to reach it before dark.”

She set off down an alleyway between red-bricked houses and everyone followed, Cindella bringing up the rear and keeping a regular watch back along the route they had come. It would be very easy to get lost in this world, with its unremitting landscape of ruined streets and squares. In time, though, there was a change, heralded by a droning sound and a repeated metallic clanging.

Ghost pointed to a house that still had most of its roof. “Let’s climb up there.”

For Ghost it was an easy matter to rise from the ground to the tiles above them. From there she lowered a string and Athena tied on a ladder of wire and light metal cross-steps that she unrolled on the ground from her satchel with an expression of pride on her face. With a certain amount of swaying and twisting and a few whispered curses, Gunnar climbed up the ladder, followed, rather more adroitly, by Athena, then Jodocus. Cindella skipped up effortlessly.