Palaces of Light (19 page)

* * *

“F
IREBLAST
, I
CAN
’
T
believe they’re just playing along,” Ryan said as he watched the spectacle at the gleaming city. He could pick out J.B. and Krysty, though Jak was lost in the crowd because of his height. They were doing nothing, and once the sacrifice had taken place they went back to their business: Krysty returned to the paintings, joining other young women, while Jak and J.B. started to dismantle the altar along with some of the young men.

Ryan turned away in disgust, a bitter taste in his mouth that he spit out on the dry ground. He couldn’t help but think that his companions were lost to them.

“We have seen this before, and we have been there before,” Doc said to counsel him. “There is no situation that is beyond redeeming until we are under the ground. It is just a matter of strategy.”

“Well, we’d better come up with some kind of strategy, and soon,” Mildred said. “The longer we stay here, the greater the chances we get discovered, and the greater the chances that those bastards will get their hooks into our friends so that we won’t ever be able to get them back.”

“There is more than that,” Doc murmured. “They are stepping up their activity. No matter what our agenda is, theirs is more urgent. And it has nothing to do with us, I am sure.”

“But how…” Ryan mused softly. “Now that they’re alerted to the only ways we can approach, how the hell do we find another way in? Two routes, both open, and both known to them… I tell you, I’m not full of bastard ideas on this one. How the hell can we tackle them?”

“I wish I could answer you on that question,” Doc mused. “I fear that we will have to leave it to providence.”

“What if providence doesn’t provide?” Mildred suggested.

Doc grinned. “No. If I am any judge of brigands, megalomaniacs and fanatics, they will not be able to proceed to fruition of their plans until they have eliminated the danger. Which, my dears, we are. All we need to do is try to be patient. I think providence might just be on our side.”

Chapter Fifteen

After the sacrifice had taken place, and all those outside had returned to the tasks previously allotted to them, the fat man returned to his own palace of light. Like all the elders of the city—those who were either descended from the original stragglers who had found their way to this spot, or who had arrived through the wastes in the time since the nukecaust—he lived separately from the young they had brought into the city.

It hadn’t always been that way. At one time, there was something resembling a traditional family unit within the city. There were more than enough buildings along the ledge for everyone to make a private home of their own. In this way they had continued for some time, until the fat man came of age. Called Gideon—which wasn’t the name he always used on the outside, when they went hunting—he was born to believers in the notion that the old gods had originally come from the stars and would one day return to take home those who believed in their ascendancy. Because of that, and because of a childhood accident that left him with a shattered hip and too much time with nothing else to do, he had started to think about the different ideas, prophecies and beliefs that had brought them all to this place.

The hip eventually knitted, after a fashion, but his pursuit of an ideal that unified the myriad ideas shared in the city didn’t go away. As he grew to manhood, he became known as a thinker and scholar, whose knowledge of history was deep. And so it was, comparative to the others who had been born since the nukecaust. But he knew that the sources from which he took that knowledge were sparing and incomplete. He attempted to bridge the gaps with informed and inspired guesses, and if he sometimes secretly believed that his guesses were way off base, then he kept quiet about it for fear of losing his position. For despite what appeared to be a towering intellect, he was aware that he wasn’t physically attractive, and that the badly mended hip had left him with a decided limp that made movement difficult. As a result, his weight ballooned, and to be fat and immobile in a world of lean, mobile men was a danger. So he cultivated his reputation, and nurtured it.

Martha, the pinched old woman who excelled in herbs, had once been the most beautiful and desirable of all the women in the city. Many had wanted her. So had Gideon. He had won her with his intellect: not that she was interested in it, but like him she believed in power, and she could see that although there were many strong men, they would wither with age, whereas the mind of Gideon could take them to a preeminent place.

Two children who perished shortly after birth and thirty years of enmity, bitterness and a mutual dependency turning to hatred had put paid to that. Yet she still believed in the thing that had first united them: the grand theory.

Gideon had known that he needed something to cement both his own position, and his chances of getting Martha. His studies were showing some kind of link, but not one that he could identify.

Then it came to him: starting with the idle thought that one section of the city believed in worshipping the stars while the other believed they came from there, and would once return, he began to work on the theory that perhaps there was a link between the two in the form of space.

It wasn’t long before logic, fevered imagination and a handful of old tracts and books gave rise to the unified theory of the city of light.

The people adored it. They adored Gideon. It would take many years to come to fruition, but then, what were a couple of decades in the history of the world? Nothing more than a blink of an eye. However, if they were to fulfill the theory—which was fast becoming a prophecy, such was their fervor—then it was necessary to harness the energy that could only be supplied by young, vital life force.

And therein lay their problem: they had a birth rate that ensured that it would be many generations before the city bought the farm and ended up as deserted as it had been for the many millennia before they arrived. It was steady, with only a small rate of decline. But it wasn’t enough.

The people turned to Gideon again. This time, the man of supposedly towering intellect turned to his childhood. There were few books in the city that could be read and understood by the young, and during his period of convalescence after his accident he had read them all—taught as he was by his mother—so many times that he was sick of them. He wished to forget them.

But they stuck. And at that moment, he was never more glad for the childhood stories that haunted his dreams and nightmares. One came back to him: the Pied Piper who charmed the rodents, then took the children when payment was welched. Why bother with the first part? Just skip to the chase… They had the mutie powers among them to carry it out, so it was just a matter of working out a plan that would allow them to enter a ville to study and ingratiate themselves before going in for the chill.

There were those who objected that it would be easier to just ride in and blast the way out, taking as they went. Gideon smiled that beatific and patronizing grin, explaining carefully that that was wasteful. They would risk losing their lives, and wasting potential life energy in the cross fire. Besides, without a firefight, how many more life energies could they spirit away with each journey?

The power of thought triumphed over the power of brute force once more. That was an overriding concern and obsession throughout Gideon’s life, and now that it was nearing its conclusion he didn’t want to be proved wrong at the last.

So it was that he gathered the elders in the communal palace they now shared, having given up their separate palaces for the good of the whole, housing the hordes of young life force that they had brought to them.

“We are nearly there,” he began in stentorian tones that echoed in the stone interior. They had kept the most opulent of the structures for themselves, and the building had ornately carved and high ceilings that added weight to his already impressive tones.

“The stars are finally coming into alignment,” he continued. “There is only a matter of hours before they are in the right place, and the ceremonies can begin. These rituals are only to prepare the young, whose life force shall help propel us to our destiny while also being their salvation. We do not need them, for we know that our own beliefs are strong enough.

“But having come so far, we must not let anything come between us and our destiny. We have been protected for so long by the forces that we have harnessed to protect our perimeters that we have become slack. At the last we have allowed intruders to breach our defenses. I know that there were others in their wake who were repelled by the advanced measure we put in place, and that we now have three of the intruders in thrall to us, but the fact remains that we have some still at large. Patrols have been sent to find them, but to no avail.”

“Perhaps they have run scared,” Delroy suggested, his voice as dark and gaunt as his demeanor.

Martha snorted. “If they had run, they would have come up against our psychic wall. I have felt nothing, have any of you?” She waited impatiently while there was some muttering before continuing peevishly. “Exactly. They are still inside the canyon. Why we haven’t found them is beyond me, but—”

“I think the answer to that is simple,” Gideon interrupted. “We have never had to deal with such intruders, and so we do not have the skills in which they excel. That is reasonable, and I think no grounds for apportioning blame…”

Martha’s mutterings suggested that she felt otherwise, but the fat man was aware of the need to keep unity among the elders so close to the goal, and so pressed on regardless. “I would suggest that we use those things in which we do have skill to trap them and nullify their threat. Delroy, I would like you and those who use their power to maintain the wall to draw it in so that it gradually enclosed nothing but the valley of the canyon.”

“Won’t that leave us open to any possible intrusions?” the gaunt man questioned.

Gideon sniffed. “So close to the goal, I feel we can take that chance. The continued presence of those irritating bastards is a greater threat. Pull the net tighter to catch them and draw them out. It will keep them occupied while we prepare, and it will also leave them open to being picked off as they emerge. Furthermore, to speed the process, I have a second measure… Bring the three intruders to me,” he snapped, indicating to an elder at the back.

The elder—one of the incredibly tall men who accompanied him on life energy gatherings—nodded and slipped through the doors. While he was gone, the remaining elders discussed the fine details of what would occur on the following day. The circle was now complete, and the energies that had been released by sacrifice were now within the circle itself, adding to the power it contained and the beacon it became. As with any kind of ritual, there were mundanities of organization to sort out before the day itself came upon them, and these were now falling into place. The discussion was more by way of confirming that well-laid plans were in place and proceeding smoothly.

Gideon was pleased. Once the day had come and gone, there would be nothing left in this place to mark his achievement, but to have reached this point was monument enough for him. His monstrous ego was satisfied with the culmination of a plan conceived by himself and activated by the elders as a whole. To wield such power demanded no other statue.

Thus it was that their business was almost concluded when the door opened and the tall elder led in Krysty, J.B. and Jak.

Krysty looked around at the palace. It was opulent compared to the other interiors she had seen thus far, and certainly it had less of a stench, though it was still pretty overpowering. She also noticed that there were bowls of differing herbal mixtures everywhere. The scents from these intermingled with the stench, both disguising and adding to it in equal measure. Because of the differences in scents, she knew that these tinctures weren’t for the same purpose as the one that was painted on their scratches. Nonetheless, they were used by the elders for whatever purpose, and meant that in effect they were as high in their own way as any jolt-head. Which would explain a lot, she figured wryly, if not how to extricate themselves from this situation.

Her train of thought was interrupted as they were brought in front of Gideon.

He sighed heavily. “Your fellow fighters are giving us problems. We cannot afford to have such problems. We are not fighters. We have some capability, but not your experience. Or theirs. However, we do have you, and you know them well. With your knowledge, we can send out men to crush them.” He looked them over, and a sly smile spread across his face. “Now, I suggest that you tell me all you know of your friends. What their strengths and weaknesses are, and how best to combat them.”

Krysty shook her head and looked at Jak and J.B. They, too, seemed resolute. Yet she could feel something within herself that she knew would also be flooding over their consciousness. No matter what the intent, the combination of herb and hypnosis was making her irresolute. She could feel her weakness growing, and the desire to spill her guts wash over her. She knew that Jak and J.B. would be the same. And that there was nothing they could do about it.

The fat man’s loathsome face was wreathed in a smug grin. “Bring forward the guard. They should pay particular attention to this,” he said, beckoning to some of the elders.

Despite herself, Krysty felt her mouth open and the words spill out. Detesting herself, and more so the influences that were making her do this, she told all. The fat man smiled. When she had finished, he simply indicated that Jak continue. And despite the loathing in his voice, he took up where Krysty had left off.

She hung her head. Forgive us, Ryan, Doc, Mildred… .

* * *

N
IGHT
HUNG
HEAVY
over the canyon. In the depths of the valley, the companions felt safe in coming out of hiding. The shadows were deep and dark down here, and as the city on the ledge slowly extinguished its lights and settled for the night, there was little chance of their being observed.

“Man, I’m getting really stiff and ring rusty cooped up in that place,” Mildred said as she stretched. “I don’t think I can wait much longer, Ryan, no matter what.”

“Patience, my dear Doctor,” Doc mused as he flexed equally cramped and stiffened limbs. “A straightforward assault would not be a good idea. You know that.”

“Yeah, but even so,” Mildred began, trailing off as she caught sight of Ryan. The one-eyed man was standing apart from them, staring up at the ledge. “What is it?” she asked with an urgent edge to her tone.

Ryan turned to her. “Why can’t we just go up there? It’s the middle of the bastard night. They’re so arrogant that they don’t have any kind of defense, and when they sent out sec patrols they were shit. Fireblast, even a blind stupe stickie could have worked out where we were by now. Unless they do know, and they’re just playing bastard games with us… But why the fuck would they do that? Why would they do anything? Look at it.”

Mildred and Doc followed the direction of his arm. The city looked quiet, peaceful…and completely defenseless.

“Weight of numbers, Ryan,” Doc murmured. “That’s why we haven’t done it. Two ways up, two ways down. The slightest alarm and we’re trapped on either of them. And then when we’re up there—”

“We have the element of surprise if we go now. We didn’t want to take out any of the kids last time, either, so we held back. Fuck the mission. K wasn’t straight with us, so all bets are off. We get our people back. That’s our only mission now. We go in, we hit hard, we get Jak, Krysty and J.B. and we run. Maximum chaos and we get the chance to run before they can regroup.”