torg 01 - Storm Knights (17 page)

Read torg 01 - Storm Knights Online

Authors: Bill Slavicsek,C. J. Tramontana

Tags: #Role Playing & Fantasy, #Games, #Fantasy Games

BOOK: torg 01 - Storm Knights
7.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Decker tried to grasp what Wells was telling him. Kent, Farrel, an entire city, all written off? He couldn't accept that. "John, what are you saying?" he demanded, rising to tower over the man sitting behind the desk. "How can you simply decide that all those people, the President, are beyond our help? How?"

Wells stood as well, falling short of Decker's six-foot-two frame. "Simply? Nothing has been simple these past nine days, Ace. You should know that better than anyone! There are dinosaurs walking in Manhattan, Ace, pouring down a bridge that fell from the sky. This is a nightmare, man, but there's nothing simple about it! There are no television signals, no phone calls, no news wires — there's nothing coming out of New York! Nothing but refugees! And do you know what's behind the

refugees? The dinosaurs, that's what! Pushing the survivors before them as they take more and more of our country. They've already taken land as far west as Ohio and as far north as parts of Canada, plus you've seen the footage from California. There doesn't seem to be any way to stop them. As their front advances, our weapons tend to malfunction and break down. We haven't determined why that is yet, but until we do we will continue to lose ground and lives to these invaders. My God, we're at war and we haven't figured it out yet."

The President collapsed back into his chair, the weariness of the situation pressing him down and making him look smaller.

The President.

That's who he was now, and he needed Decker's help and support. Decker realized that, and was sorry that he had exploded. But he felt so helpless. He, too, sat back down, trying to focus, to make sense of the situation.

"You asked Quartermain to be your VP," Decker said, "so what do you want from me?"

"Disappointed, Ace? Don't be. I have something else in mind for you. But first, let me finish the rest of my news, bad as it may be. Prior to the invasion of New York, the world lost contact with Indonesia. As no communications have come out of or have gotten through to the island nations, we must assume that what befell New York has also befallen Indonesia. The northeast, the west coast, the south Pacific—all contact with the areas immediately around the invasion sites has been lost."

"What do you want from me, Mr. President."

"Don't get formal on me now, Ace. And please, bear with me."

The President drained his cup and placed it on the desk. He paused for a second to gather his thoughts.

"Have you ever had a dream that kept repeating itself night after night?" he asked, his voice gaining a strange, far away tone. "I've had one ever since this all started. It comes to me every time my eyes close. Did you know that I'm part Indian. American Indian, that is. Crow, to be specific. Well, this dream has to do with Indians — at least with one of the legends. Have you ever heard of Coyote? He was a trickster, but he was also a hero that helped mankind. The stories reveal that he transformed aspects of the world for man's benefit. But in my dream Coyote encountered Death. Death was a terrible being, dressed in a short cape and old-fashioned hat, sort of like a Puritan. And he stood in a whirlwind, drawing power from the swirling column of air. Death was searching for a large stone in my dream, a stone that was important. Using his normal pranks, Coyote found the stone first. He stole it before Death could reach it and placed it out west somewhere."

President Wells leaned forward, staring directly into Decker's eyes. "Then, before I wake up, Coyote turns to me and says the damnedest thing. He says, 'What is given is given.'"

"And what does that all mean, John?"

"Ace, I have absolutely no idea. But I know that I need you to find out for me, because I certainly can't

go."

"Go? Go where?"

"West, young man. You have to go west."

Decker felt beads of sweat form on his forehead and his throat got dry. "The stone, John, tell me about the stone."

"An amazing sight, actually. It's a blue stone, like a piece of the sky made solid, and ..."

But before he could finish, Decker said it for him. "... and it's run through with veins of red."

51

Dar Ess was a gotak of great authority and great sadness. The title, which meant "being who feels no passion," was a new addition to the religion of the edeinos. It was created by Baruk Kaah prior to the edeinos' first raid into the cosmverse, and it went against everything the edeinos believed. But the Saar gave the position meaning and merit, and few dared to oppose his authority over the tribes.

Unlike the optants, the priests of life, gotaks were the keepers of all things dead. It was not a title that drew respect. Instead, other Edeinos looked upon gotaks with pity, for they were relegated to handling those things that were not of Lanala, the Edeinos goddess. Still, Dar Ess did not require respect to lead her acolytes into the world of the dead. She required only her power, which the younger ones feared.

She traveled with Beca and Tred, who carried the stelae; with the Stalenger Two Taps, who found the digging spots; and with the Benthe Geebo, the small amoeba-like being with the ability to manipulate emotion-controlling pheromones. Dar Ess was the leader, and it was her duty to perform the ceremony at the digging spot that would activate the stelae.

They had left the boundary of their own reality, the Living Land, and were now walking in the Dead Land that was the reality of Earth. None of the acolytes were comfortable here, but they had all done this before. That was their duty as gotaks to be. That was their shame.

Two Taps spun through the air ahead of them, his star shape a beautiful beacon for them to follow. Dar Ess noticed that Two Taps had changed color, switching from a neutral tan to a reflective rainbow pattern that indicated joy or excitement. The gotak indicated rapid movement by clacking her claws together three times fast, then ran ahead to converse with the stalenger.

Not bothering to see if the other acolytes were following her, for they knew that to disobey her command meant their deaths, Dar Ess stopped beneath the spinner. Two Taps uncoiled long tendrils from beneath his body and snaked them out to touch the gotak. Once in contact, the two could converse freely — one through speech, the other through a series of taps and vibrations.

"What have you found, Two Tapsss?" Dar Ess demanded, as was her practice when dealing with alcolytes-who-were-not-yet-gotaks.

"I have found the digging spot, the place where the boundaries must meet," Two Taps answered, using his most humble vibrations.

"Mark it," the gotak ordered, turning away and breaking contact with the stalenger's tendrils before he could reply. She expected Beca to be behind her, waiting, and she was not disappointed.

The young edeinos, who was the newest member of Dar Ess' team, stood shaking in place, obviously nervous yet anxiously waiting to experience the pleasures of the dig.

"Beca, find the ssspot that Two Tapsss marksss. There you will honor our Sssaar by digging the hole of placement. Geebo, sssupervise the young one. Go."

Beca bowed respectfully to the benthe, then waited for the older being to make the sign that signaled he could be picked up. Geebo extended a pseudopod straight up from his hemispherical body. The sign given, Beca gently lifted the benthe and placed Geebo on his shoulder. Then he ran to find Two Taps.

"Bring your ssstelae, Tred, and come with me," Dar Ess commanded the remaining acolyte. The gotak hefted her hrockt shoot, its roots dangling from one end, and led the way.

When Dar Ess and Tred arrived at the digging spot, Beca was already hard at work. He used his claws to scope out large handfuls of dirt, nodding frequently which indicated acknowledgement of Geebo's instructions. Two Taps rested on the ground nearby, offering his own advice through the almost-invisible tendrils that gently rested on Beca's ridged head. While Beca continued to dig, Tred examined one of the stelae he carried, making sure it was still intact. Dar Ess examined it herself as well, for if a damaged stelae was placed Baruk Kaah would punish them all.

The stelae was about four feet long. On the outside it looked like an oval of vines and leaves and thorns. But within the oval-shaped wrapping were bones and carcasses of creatures from the Living Land. When three stelae were laid in a triangle, the area within the bounded points would be ready to contain the reality of the cosm that created the stelae — in this case, the Living Land. Dar Ess observed the rituals, noting that they were good. Already she could feel the excitement building, and the sensations reminded her that even those who worked among the dead could know life.

She watched in anticipation for her own part in the ceremony, when Two Taps leaped into the air. Dar Ess came to attention immediately, hefting her hrockt shoot and looking for whatever danger the stalenger had sensed.

Coming over a nearby rise were two of the soft-skinned beings of the Dead Land. They wore dead coverings and carried dead items that Dar Ess could not fathom. But they had not yet seen the gotak and her acolytes, and that meant the ceremony did not have to be interrupted.

The gotak clacked her claws together once, signaling that the others should continue their work. Then she moved away from the digging spot, quietly praying to Lanala as she did so. Almost immediately she felt her god's presence, manifesting throughout her scaled body as a pleasant tingling sensation. She focused her prayer, asking that her hrockt shoot change to serve her better.

With that, the top end of the shoot reformed, growing to a sharp point that could pierce even the hide of an udatok. When the spear had finished forming, Dar Ess yelled a challenge to the soft-skinned beings. Both looked up, startled by the terrible sound. The smaller one tried to run, but Two Taps caught her in his tendrils and held her fast. The larger one, confused, simply stood there.

Dar Ess listened to the babbling the soft-skinned male made. If she concentrated, she could understand the primitive language that used nothing more complicated than words. But she did not want to concentrate. There was no need to use the gift that Baruk Kaah had given them, no need to hear the death pleas of a dead thing.

The gotak shouted in honor of Lanala, then tossed the hrockt spear at the soft skin. It pierced his chest and knocked him onto its back. Dar Ess shook excitedly at the spray of blood that erupted as the spear hit. She had added a prayer that caused the pointed head of the shoot to grow thorns once it struck its target. The thorns would do even more damage to the frail being.

She bounced over to the male. When she reached him, Dar Ess saw that he was already dead. The thorns had done their job. Too bad, she mused, that she was unable to give the soft-skinned one more sensations before death had claimed him. She grasped the hrockt shoot and pulled it easily from its victim, the point reformed to its original shape.

Then Dar Ess remembered the smaller one.

Two Taps still held her, and the soft-skinned woman reminded Dar Ess of a fly in a spider's web.

"To you, woman of the Dead Land," Dar Ess proclaimed in the hissing language of the edeinos, "I give the reward of sensation. Cherish this last pleasure of life."

The stalenger felt every bit of the young woman's pain through his tendrils that wrapped about her. The sensations were so intense, he knew that the gotak had seen fit to truly grant the soft-skinned one life at the moment of her death. The sensations lasted almost ten minutes, and then the soft skin died.

Dar Ess, a wild gleem in her yellow eyes, returned to the dig spot. Only her shaking body, still ripe with excitement, and the single splash of blood on her left arm showed that anything had occurred.

Without a word to the others, the gotak hefted the prepared stelae and offered a prayer to Lanala. Then she produced a stone dagger — truly a tool of the dead — and offered a second prayer to Baruk Kaah. Beca, the youngest, turned his head from the sight of the dagger. Yes, Dar Ess had once been repulsed by the dead tool, but she had learned to work with it. That was the duty of a gotak. Beca would learn as well.

The gotak cut a slit in the stelae with the stone dagger. If the prayers had been accepted, then the wound would bleed, giving Dar Ess the sign of life.

Blood welled from the slit as the dagger cut, dripping down the sides of the stelae, forming rivers of red through the tangle of vines. With a yell of triumph, Dar Ess placed the bleeding stelae in the prepared hole. Then she backed away so that the acolytes could scoop dirt atop the stelae. They chanted as they worked, and soon the hole was filled. Dar Ess prayed once more, and Lanala caused grass and plants to sprout from the replaced soil. Within moments, the digging spot looked as though it had never been disturbed by claw or talon.

Dar Ess, pleased with their success, ordered Two Taps again into the sky. It would be a long march to the next digging spot, and the sooner they started the sooner they could return to the Living Land.

52

During the first week of Wendy Miller's recovery, except when his duties called him to the bedsides of others or when the doctors chased him out of the room to examine their patient, Father Christopher Bryce was constantly at her side. He joyed in the rapid growth of her strength when his world was filled with ministering to the dying. He joyed in merely being with her, feeling a connection to her, as a father would who had been present at the birth of his child. Yet, his fondness for her slid in and out of the realm of the paternal to those feelings that were of a man for a woman. Feelings a priest could have, but feelings that a priest must never act upon.

Other books

Someone Else's Fairytale by E.M. Tippetts
The Murder Wall by Mari Hannah
Down Here by Andrew Vachss
The Memory of Us: A Novel by Camille Di Maio
American Girls by Alison Umminger
Rito de Cortejo by Donald Kingsbury
Whip by Martin Caidin