Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (5 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Bright, sunless sky like a slap in the face as the dungeon’s depths gave way instantly to the perpetual midday of the Golden Realm. No single point of illumination there in our own private cosmos, just a constant noontime of bluer-than-blue sky and shimmering radiance all about. Not, I reflected, the optimum conditions for a jailbreak.

Across the main square of the Golden City we raced. Now I understood why the streets were deserted and, at least for the moment, I will admit I was grateful.

In the middle of the square, the great plume of the Fountain flared up like a geyser, spouting golden sparks and stars and constellations into the too-blue sky. The column of energy towered over a hundred feet into the air before falling back down like water into the great basin surrounding its base. Frail by comparison, a gilded stairway ascended some forty feet up alongside the Fountain, topped by a ten-foot-wide platform, just within arm’s reach of the current, from which various ceremonies were conducted in happier days.

The air around the Fountain fairly buzzed in harmony with the erupting shower of primal energy. Freed from the shielded interior of the dungeon, I could feel the full, invigorating effects of the Power washing over me. The clothes that have always been a part of my Aspect quickly regained their luster; my indigo shirt and pants seemed fresh and new again and my navy-blue long coat flared crisply behind me. The sapphire jewel I wore at my collar sparkled like a new star.

One thing was certain. We had to get out of the city immediately. Any planning beyond that point could wait. I led them to the main gates, but remembered my last journey on the road from Earth’s plane and hesitated.

“What is it?” Cassidy demanded. “What are you waiting for? Get us out of here!”

Resisting the urge to backhand him for his impudence, I considered our options. The road I knew best—that most direct, best-mapped, and least-tasking of routes among the planes back to Earth’s dimension—would surely be watched, if not by the man in black then by one of us. Perhaps by Baranak himself, once word reached him of my escape.

Anger swelled within me. I had not come all this way simply to give up and flee back to my place of exile, even were I sure it would be safe. But where else could we go? I needed information. I needed advice. I needed…

“He’s right,” Evelyn said, anxiety evident in her voice. “It can’t be wise to stand here so long.”

“Wise…” That word conjured an image from the depths of my ages-old memory. “Wisdom. Yes!”

Ignoring their further questions, I led them a short distance along the city’s massive walls to another gate—a smaller one—and cautiously opened it. Seeing no signs of an attack, I motioned the humans out and closed the gate behind us. A narrow path led away from the city walls and into a wooded area down the hill, and I hurried off in that direction, the others behind me. It had been some time since I had last taken this route, and I hoped the intersection with Malachek’s realm still lay in the same place.

“Where are we going?” Evelyn asked as we ran.

“To visit the god of wisdom,” I replied, “and see if he can live up to his Aspect.”

I strove to relax my mind as best I could, allowing my senses and my instincts to guide me as I mentally examined the texture of reality around us. It didn’t take long. The point of close proximity between the City’s dimension and my destination, where the barrier between those two planes was thinnest, had not moved since last I had passed this way, so many centuries earlier. Gesturing with one hand, the Power flowing through me, I pressed at the invisible wall and penetrated it easily, causing a portal to flare open. Quickly I expanded it into a ten-foot circle of blue fire that hovered before us. Smiling for the first time in quite a while, I quickly led the others through, allowing it to shrink to nothingness behind us. When we stepped out the other side, the brightness of day had been replaced by a dim world of long shadows and near twilight. The tall, straight trees from the outskirts of the city had given way to gnarly, twisted growths and thick underbrush.

Through the woods we raced, shadows descending all around. Gradually the ground sloped further down, until we found ourselves in a low area covered over completely with layers of contorted and knotty branches high above. Vast puddles of stagnant water surrounded us, leaving only mossy, narrow raised areas for walking. The sounds of swamp life buzzed and croaked and chirped all around us.

In answer to Evelyn’s questioning look, I could only shrug and reply, “He likes his privacy.”

On through the swamp we marched, for what seemed like hours on end. I considered opening a series of portals in and out of lower-powered adjacent planes where time ran faster, to hurry us on our way, but I feared that such actions might somehow be detected. Better to use this straightforward route to the pocket universe Malachek had found—or constructed; he was never entirely clear on this—many years before, even if it meant a depressing trek through lands he could only have chosen for their value as deterrents to visitors.

After far too long a time of trudging through muck, I sensed the texture of reality growing thin around us once more, and called a halt. This had to be the right place, the right node of intersection. I struggled for several moments, pushing with some effort against unexpected resistance, before rending the barrier enough for all of us to pass through. It snapped shut behind us instantly, leaving us in what appeared to be the same place we’d just evacuated. Frowning, I metaphorically tasted the energies around me. Ever so slightly different. Good. We had to be very close now. Perhaps only one more barrier lay before us. On we hiked.

Not long after this crossing, I felt a chill in the air. The others seemed not to notice it, which troubled me. I hesitated, raising a hand to bring them to a halt, and then I moved away quickly, my every sense alert. The air fairly crackled with electricity, something that had not been the case moments earlier. A circular glow began to coalesce in the air a few dozen yards away. Whirling, I gestured for the humans to get down, to hide themselves behind a clump of brush and fallen trees, and I followed them moments later. I held a finger to my lips to forestall any questions, and then we all peeked over the top, watching to see what developed.

The glow resolved itself into a blazing portal, and out stepped the Dark Man I’d battled earlier. Or, at least, it certainly looked like him. Black robes concealing his shape and form, face covered in a featureless mask that seemed to absorb light into its depths, he strode forward, head turning this way and that, as if searching, searching…

Seconds later, a second portal blazed open, and a nearly identical figure stepped through. Great, I thought to myself.
One was bad enough. How many can there be?

I am no warrior god. I am not gifted with the cosmic flames of Vashtaar, or with the electrical abilities of Korvakh, nor even with Baranak’s two good fists. Concealment, however, lies well within my talents. As we crouched there in the forest, behind our meager camouflage, I raised one hand and concentrated, encouraging a general assumption among any within range that nobody lurked behind these logs; that things were perfectly normal here, thanks for asking; that there was no one back here but us chickens.

Satisfied that I had masked our presence as best I could, I waited and watched as the two enigmatic figures in black approached one another, reaching out simultaneously to touch fingertips together. Electricity danced between them. At that moment, crimson lightning flared in the sky and struck down at them. They both lit up like red neon bulbs momentarily, then faded to dull black again. All very lovely, to be sure, but it told me nothing I didn’t already know—which was little.

Apparently unhurt, the figures in black turned their backs on one another, and portals flared open ahead of each of them. Without further ado, each strode forward and vanished, the portals dwindling to bright points of light behind them, before vanishing entirely, as if they’d never been.

“Who,” Cassidy was already asking me, “were they?”

“What just happened?” Kim added.

I glared at them by way of reply, then started forward again. Soon enough, they followed.

The humans had the good sense to let me be for most of the journey, my mood having transformed itself to match our surroundings. Some time later, however, Evelyn caught up with me, a question on her lips.

“The big guy—Baranak—said most of your kind had been killed. How do you know the one you seek is still alive?”

“I don’t,” I answered. “But we are about to find out.” I pointed through the dense branches to a row of tiny lights sparkling just ahead.

Ten more minutes of tramping through slime brought us out of the dense growth and into a broad clearing, its central area dominated by an ancient stone castle complete with blazing torches along its walls and a drawbridge over a nearly dry moat. Weeping willows stood along the periphery of the clearing, doing their best to contribute to the gothic atmosphere. Somewhere to my left, predictably, a wolf howled. I made to approach the bridge, but before I’d taken half a dozen steps, a voice sounded from high above.

“From the look of you,” the voice said, “you have come by the long way.”

I gazed up at the figure leaning over the wall and waved once.

“It seemed wisest,” I replied, deadpan.

“In these times of uncertainty, I would say you acted properly.” His voice was rich and deep, with a hint of age to it—surely chosen for effect. After a moment, he added, “You didn’t do it.”

“Your wisdom remains undiminished,” I replied. “I did not.”

The rain drizzled harder, and I called back to him, “So, may we come in?”

But he was gone from the wall.

I frowned, but cheered up immensely as the broad wooden door across the bridge opened, seemingly of its own accord.

“His castle seems to be welcoming us, anyway,” Evelyn noted.

“There’s little difference,” I replied, directing them all to cross the bridge.

The interior of the castle’s main hall displayed treasures from a multitude of places and times, and the humans reacted to the sight precisely the way I’d expected. They gawked and stared. For my own part, I was somewhat disappointed; at some point in the past thousand years, Malachek had apparently grown weary of the more bizarre features of his residence and removed them. No longer did stairways and halls perform impossible right-angle turns into nowhere. It seemed his fascination with Escherian architecture had ended, though I was certain surprises aplenty remained for the unwary within his domicile.

“Greetings!”

At the top of a set of grand but quite normal stairs stood the god of wisdom in all his glory. He was, of course, just as I remembered him from so long ago: tall and slender, with an aquiline nose, and wearing the same brown tweed suit of indeterminable vintage in which I always pictured him. His silver-gray hair, long in the back, was partially covered by a hat that still dripped rainwater, but as he descended the steps he quickly removed it and bowed.

“Welcome to the house of Malachek,” he said with stiff formality.

Malachek.

In the months and years before the revolt, many of the others had come to him, soliciting his views on the growing conflict. Those who had not already made up their minds one way or the other looked to him for guidance and advice. Given his Aspect, this was hardly surprising. Knowing he therefore could have a potentially significant impact on the outcome, or at least on the disposition of the factions, leading figures from both camps visited his estate, hat in hand, seeking his blessing.

He met all entreaties with stony silence.

Oh, he could hold forth on nearly any other subject for hours, if given the opportunity. His expertise in so many fields was unrivaled. But with regard to the dispute between the faction nominally led by Baranak and my own, Malachek always walked a strictly neutral path, consorting with both, favoring neither. Not once did he publicly state a position on the matter.

He might have swung the balance, but he chose instead to keep his own counsel. It was quite maddening.