The Land Beyond All Dreams (22 page)

The construction workers were arrayed in several neat lines, inert, awaiting orders. Thain’s portal was complete and powered up. Thain was playing with an array of concentric bronze circles orbiting a central axis, while the other end of the portal had to be a few miles off the ground. As he moved the circles, the far end moved closer to the ground.

The sky was low and close, filled with black clouds and thick layers of soot and dust. I could make out the ground, and for a moment, I thought I was looking at a large expanse of farmland. The portal moved again, and the view became terribly clear.

The dark rectangles I had taken for farmland were troops. Legions of corpses, standing shoulder to shoulder, hundreds across, thousands deep. Four conquered worlds meant billions of troops. Organizing them in groups of a million would be nice and tidy. They looked like squares on a chessboard, and I could not see the end of them.

Thank you, Goddess, for convincing me to pee before I came out here.

Thain finished his adjustments and the portal sank down to ground level. He tucked the bronze assembly under his arm and turned to me. “I hope you aren’t here for another deep and meaningful conversation. I expected you would have my artifact by now. Yet, here you are, and my artifact remains deep in the mountain. Explain yourself.”

I didn’t have to feign my surprise. “Ah, well, I’m sorry. I guess we picked the wrong thing. We don’t have your insight, you know. This was the only thing we found that looked like it might be what you wanted. I guess we’ll keep looking.” I turned to walk back into the facility.

“Wait.” Thain walked toward me, holding his hand out. “That was rude of me. Show me what you found.”

“Glad to.” I reached into my pocket, took out the Unicorn horn, and held it out. As he reached for it, I shouted, “
Resurrectio
!”

It wasn’t the coolest magic word in the world, but it was the right one. I needed to know a command to bring someone back to life, and just like that, I did. I tried it out on the butterflies in the bathroom first, though, just to be sure. The skunks I left alone.

The horn lit up from the inside, bright as burning magnesium, bathing Thain’s chest with a coruscating stream of golden sparks. The stream lifted him off the ground, surrounding him with a blazing golden aurora. From deep in the heart of the glow, Thain howled. Rage, agony, loss, and hopefully soul-searing horror at what he had done.

The light faded from the horn, and I tucked it away. It was cracked and pocked with holes, but still pulsing with energy. It wouldn’t survive another use. Thankfully, one use had been enough. Thain was alive. Living, breathing…and mortal.

Thain pushed himself up on his knees, running his hands over his face. As a living man, he was well-built and handsome, with sharp, chiseled features and piercing grey eyes that flashed like storm clouds. Even dirty, naked, and weaponless, he radiated confidence and purpose. He wasn’t just an evil genius—he was an authentic Evil Overlord.

Too bad he never read the rule about killing your enemy as soon as you get the chance.

He got to his feet, slow and unsteady, the feel of a living body long forgotten. I used the time to open the flask Thirteen had given me. He wouldn’t tell me what it did, but the label said
C
ŵn Annwn
. The name referred to the dogs of Arawn, lord of the Wild Hunt. In English, it meant
Hound of Hell
. I closed my eyes and thought about the Empire while I drank it.

Sweet Goddess… It was battle-joy in a bottle, an ice-cold rush of adrenaline and endorphins. It was the burning thrill of the hunt and the sheer ecstatic savagery of the kill, the glory of knowing I’d been chosen from on high to bestow a righteous ass-kicking on the wretched and despicable.

Thain was moving in slow motion. I gave him a rabbit punch to the kidney and a jab to the throat, followed by a no-holds-barred haymaker to the solar plexus. Thain’s eyes went wide and he brought his hands up to defend himself. I grabbed his fingers, twisting and bending until I heard bones snap. I smiled. “That’s for crashing my mother’s funeral, bitch.”

I let him go, stepped back, and gave him a spinning roundhouse kick to the temple. He actually flipped in mid-air before plowing into a broken wall. I pulled him up, got my arm around his neck, and dragged him toward the portal. On the far side, innumerable furry shapes emerged from the shadows, gaining form and substance with each step.

Cats. Housecats. Hundreds of them, forming a ring around the portal. Waiting.

I grabbed Thain by the back of the neck and pulled his ear close to my mouth. “Nice knowing you, Ingrim. Rest in pieces.”

His jaw moved, trying to form words and failing. All he could do was glare as I lifted him over my head and threw him into the portal. He rolled to a stop on the far side, and vanished beneath an avalanche of feline wrath. Even then, he still couldn’t scream.

As Thain died, the connection to his world closed. The monstrosities he’d used as laborers collapsed, puppets with their strings cut. Somewhere, hopefully, the dead of four worlds could rest at last.

The Cŵn Annwn was burning itself out, so I headed back toward the main door. As soon as I was clear, Thirteen activated the turrets, blasting both the portal and the corpses of Thain’s laborers into dust. The turrets blazed until their energy cells flatlined, leaving a field of glass-crusted rubble.

I made my way back to the control room and sat down next to Thirteen. He had two shot glasses poured already, so I set the Unicorn horn on the console and leaned back, savoring the drink. On this planet, all scotch was hundred year-old scotch.

“The horn wasn’t what he wanted,” I said. “Any other ideas? He’s got me all curious.”

Thirteen shrugged and downed his scotch. “No idea. There are still some areas I can’t get in to. Might be in one of those.” He refilled our glasses, passing mine back with a nod. I took the glass, and he got very interested in how the turret recharge was going.

He was lying to me.

Frakking cat!

Ah, well. No cat ever gives anyone a straight answer, or so the story goes. Let him have his secrets. I finished my drink and asked, “How soon can we head back to Earth? We have some celebrating to do!”

He yawned at me and blinked. “
Mrowl
?”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “We vanquished the bad guy, avenged your friend, saved three worlds from enslavement beyond death, and allowed your Mother of Cats to do justice on a blasphemer. We have shaken the Pillars of Heaven, my friend, and it is time to let others know the greatness of our deeds! There are tales to be told, songs to be sung, flagons to drain and women to love! You want to sulk like Achilles in his tent, do it later.”

In my defense, Cŵn Annwn and hard liquor go really well together. I was half a shot from singing karaoke on top of a pool table while wearing a red sequin evening gown. And I’d have made it look
good
.

Thirteen capped the bottle. “I’d say you’re ready to travel.” He got to his feet and did a full-body shake. “Don’t forget your fusion battery blueprints.”

“I’ve got them, thanks.” I stretched and shook my arms out. “What do you want me to do?”

He held his paw out toward me. “Pull my finger.”

I touched his paw, and the world vanished.

No Fate But What We Make, Take Two

I woke up to a familiar level of discomfort. Crisp linens, flaccid blanket, pillows that could pass for yoga mats. I had to be in a hospital.

My left leg felt missing, yet oddly heavy. I tried to look at it, but my field of vision was filled with purple hair. And kissing. Lots of kissing. That was good. If I had to be in a hospital, at least I was on the right world.

I touched Rose’s cheek and asked, “What’s for sex?” In my defense, I was on some very good drugs and do not personally remember this conversation.

My beloved Rose, being the kind and loving soul she is, took out her camera. “You are so stoned! I can’t wait to show you this when the drugs wear off.”

Word of advice—if you ever have to go under liquid valium, confiscate everyone’s phones first.

A few hours later, I woke up with a clear head and a throbbing pain in my left leg. Judging from the wrapping and walking cast, I’d managed to break it somehow. I also had a nice collection of lacerations on my left arm and the side of my face.

Rose was in the chair next the bed, watching a financial market report with the rapturous obsession of a teenage boy viewing his girlfriend’s breasts for the first time. I left her be and rang for the nurse.

I cooperated while she took my vitals and asked how much pain I was in. “Seven” was a good answer, earning me a refill on my morphine drip. Before it could kick in, I asked, “What happened to me, and how long have I been here?”

“You’re lucky to be alive. You were picked up by a freak tornado and dropped a few miles away. A couple walking their dogs found you half-wrapped around a tree. You either hit it or fell out of it, but either way you were unconscious for half a day at least.”

“Was there a cat nearby? I remember seeing a cat.”

The nurse shook her head. “Not that I know of. Your doctor will be coming by before long, so order some food and try to get some sleep.” She tucked my chart away and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Rose muted the TV for a commercial. “No, there’s been no sign of that damn cat.” She handed me the menu and said, “When you call in the order, get me three of those smothered burritos. Then you’re going to tell me where you were and what happened.”

“Can you fix my leg?”

She shook her head. “Not here. It would be noticed. Wait until we get home. Now, you were going to order food.”

The room door opened. Audrey and Mom walked in, carrying bags of fast food. Mom said, “Hello, Dorothy, glad to see you back in Kansas. We thought we should rescue you from hospital food.”

For a moment, I blamed the painkillers for making me see things. That lasted until Mom hugged me and pressed a guacamole bacon cheeseburger into my hand. At her touch, a totally new timeline appeared in my mind. The life I’d lived had never happened, though I still remembered it. Every memory I had of my entire life split, one version the original, one version where Mom wasn’t smoking. No cancer diagnosis. No long decline.

No death. No funeral.

Rose had the same expression. At least I wasn’t alone in being freaked out by gaining an extra set of memories.

Audrey laughed. “Geeze, Mom, you and David are a pair today. He looks the same way you did when you saw that cat.”

Mom blushed and waved her away. “It was just a cat.”

“Right.” Audrey unwrapped a burger and pointed at Mom. “We’re pulling out of the drive-thru and there’s this cat sitting on one of the patio tables. Mom slams the brakes on and just sits there, staring at the cat like she’s seen a ghost. I mean, yeah, it was wearing this cute little cowboy hat, but, so what? You can see that on the Internet any time.”

I did a quick memory check—no, in all my new memories from this timeline, Mom and Audrey had never met Thirteen. We had done Cookie Day at Audrey’s this year, not our house. Any of the times my family had come over, Thirteen had buggered off until after they left.

As I concentrated, I noticed some differences in Audrey’s life as well. Going to a different church, teaching language arts in middle school, married to a high school science teacher. Without having to deal with Mom’s illness, Audrey became a happier person. Her faith was a source of joy, as it should be.

All of that was great for her, but…a cat with thumbs
and
a time machine? The idea is enough to terrify a reasonable person beyond the capacity for rational thought.

I kept my face neutral. “What was so special about the cat you saw tonight?”

Mom sighed. “It was...when I was eight, my folks moved us to Oklahoma. I didn’t have any friends and wasn’t doing well in school. I kind of developed this imaginary friend, a talking cat named Mr. Boots. He’d come and talk to me in my room at night. The cat we saw tonight looked just like him. The hat and all.”

I nodded. “Good imaginary friend. Did he take you anywhere or tell you any stories?”

“Oh, yes. He told me he was a soldier, and that he was looking for a friend of his, a big dog with blue patches of fur and a grey circle around one eye. The dog had teeth of steel and was as strong as ten men, but was wise and gentle. His name was Captain Orion.”

Mom got a tissue out and dabbed her eyes. “Sorry. Anyway, Mr. Boots helped me make friends at school and kept me from getting mixed up with the troublemakers.”

Bingo
, I thought. “The ones smoking under the bleachers?”
The ones Sharon’s mom got you away from? The ones you blamed for your addiction?

“Yes, them.” Mom put her smile back on and waved the discussion away. “Now you know I owe my clean, virtuous, by-the-book life to an imaginary talking cat. You may mock at your leisure.”

And I owe him my mother.
“I wouldn’t do that. He gave you advice, but you made the decisions. We have no fate but what we make for ourselves.”

Mom arched her eyebrow at me. “That’s just what he told me. How did you know that?”

I snorted. “Other than it being the primary life lesson you’ve tried to instill in me since childhood, I think I heard it in some movie or another.”

Mom seemed mollified, but that was the point where the doctor came in to see how I was doing. Mom and Audrey took their leave, and I promised to call when we got home. Just as soon as I’d had a chance to talk to Thirteen.

The doctor talked to me for five minutes, signed my discharge papers, and told me to get out. They needed my room for a sick person. Gotta love a comedian.

Once we got home, Rose fixed my leg. We adjourned to stress-test her repair work and get caught up. The leg worked fine, leaving us to cuddle afterward and swap stories.

The cat and I had vanished in the full view of a dozen police officers. There was no way Ishmael was going to just wave his ID and make it go away. Thankfully, Harmony was able to work her mind-fu on the officers before any calls went out. Officially, the event was a freak tornado. I had been listed on the police reports as “possibly transferred to an area hospital”. Several people were still listed as missing, possibly carried off by the tornado. There were also far too many confirmed dead. Far too many of our friends.