torg 01 - Storm Knights (25 page)

"Welcome to Vandast, the continent that houses Rec Pakken," Baruk Kaah boasted proudly.

Eddie noticed that the ravagons had dropped to their knees. They were bowed before something that was hidden by the mist. He moved closer, forgetting his fear of the demons. He had to see what was powerful enough to humble the vile, winged monsters.

Baruk Kaah stepped in front of him. "Prepare yourself, singer. You are about to meet Rec Pakken, the darkness device that serves me."

The mists parted, and before them stood a gnarled forest of thick trees and twisted, impossibly large roots.

"The trees," Paragon gasped, "they're black as night."

"Only one tree, singer," Baruk Kaah explained, "a single tree grown from a single seed. Behold the origin of my power. Behold Rec Pakken!"

Now Eddie saw it, the twisting branches all grew out of a common trunk. They wrapped around, over and under each other, forming a thick canopy high above the tangled roots. The branches, trunk, and roots were made of a reflective black stone, and the leaves were like the night sky, filled with fiery stars.

The ravagons had completed their silent prayers and came to stand with the High Lord and the singer. "Rec Pakken sings of power and conquest," the first ravagon declared.

"It joins Heketon, the Gaunt Man's darkness device, in a grand song of destruction," the second ravagon said.

The third ravagon, as was his practice, said nothing.

Mist swirled and a dimthread descended to the ground. It was made of writhing souls, which marked it as coming from Orrorsh. Then a burst of brimstone exploded upon the miniature bridge, and Gibberfat appeared.

"He has made me, Gibberfat, a common messenger," the bloated red demon brooded. "I might as well get this over with. Hail, Baruk Kaah! Greetings from the Gaunt Man, he who is now the Torg!"

Baruk Kaah examined the demon curiously. "What can I do for yet another of the Gaunt Man's many servants?"

"Absolutely nothing, High Lord," the demon qui-ped. "I'm here with orders for the ravagons."

Gibberfat weaved a spell, forming an image from the deep mist. It was a woman with a mane of silver hair. "The Gaunt Man wants this stormer captured alive. No harm is to befall her."

He paused to let the ravagons focus on the stormer's image. Then Gibberfat continued. "She was last marked in the Core Earth city called Philadelphia, housed in a structure called the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania."

Another spell, and the mist took the shape of another woman. This one had chestnut hair and emerald eyes. "This stormer is to be captured as well. The Gaunt Man has questions for them both. They are traveling together."

"What of the other scents?" the first ravagon asked. "There are others with these stormers. What should we do with them?"

"Anything you want," Gibberfat giggled evilly, showing rows of pointed teeth. "Now fly, ravagons, fly."

Two of the winged demons took to the air, disappearing into the mist. The third remained.

Gibberfat strode over to the ravagon, tapping a clawed finger into its folded wings. "And what are you doing? Didn't you hear what I said?"

The ravagon just stood in place, silently eyeing the red demon.

"Hmmph! If that's the way it's to be." Gibberfat vanished in a cloud of brimstone, and the soul bridge retracted into the mist.

Eddie Paragon had no idea what was going on, and from the confused twitching, Baruk Kaah was as mystified as he was. But the edeinos was still a High Lord, and he had his own agenda to follow.

"Come, singer," the High Lord said, "come meet Rec Pakken."

The High Lord led Eddie Paragon into the black stone forest. After a few seconds, the remaining ravagon followed them in.

79

Father Christopher Bryce led Tolwyn and Mara to the rear of the hospital where the van was waiting. Rick Alder opened the sliding side door and ushered the ladies into the vehicle. Both women appeared curious, but Tolwyn in particular paused to run her hand over the smooth metal exterior.

"Hop in, Tolwyn," Alder said. "It might be a bit crowded in there, but it sure as hell beats walking. Sorry, Father."

Tolwyn, who now wore blue jeans, a pair of Puma sneakers and a sweat shirt that bore the emblem "Penn State," asked, "What is this thing, Christopher?"

"It's a van, Tolwyn, a vehicle," the priest said, trying to find the words to describe something that was so familiar to him that it was just what it was. He could see that the words made little sense to the young woman.

"It's a chariot, Tolwyn," Coyote called from within the van, "a carriage. But it doesn't need any horses to make it go."

Tolwyn laughed out loud at the thought. "Is it indeed, young Coyote? And which of you is wizard enough to make such magic work?"

Alder dangled a set of keys before her. "Me," he said with a large smile.

But Bryce snatched the keys from Alder's hand. "I think not, Rick. You worked all through the night to get the van ready. So I'll drive the first leg of this trip while you grab some sleep."

"Whatever you say, Father."

Bryce hopped into the driver's seat and inserted the key. But before he started the engine, he heard Tolwyn gasp. In the rearview mirror he saw Alder and Rat holding her back as Tal Tu, obviously the source of her agitation, watched curiously.

"Tolwyn, calm down! It's just Tal Tu! We told you about him," Alder tried to explain as he struggled to restrain her.

"He's a friend, Tolwyn, he won't hurt you," Rat said.

Tal Tu, the edeinos who aided Rick Alder back in New York and had traveled with him ever since, held the gray cat in one hand. He extended the other toward Tolwyn in a gesture of greeting.

"I am pleased to meet you, Tolwyn of House Tancred," the edeinos said. Bryce noted that his English was getting better every day. Coyote and Rat were teaching him well, and it didn't hurt that he was given the ability to pick it up by the High Lord he once called master.

Tolwyn calmed visibly at Tal Tu's words, but Bryce could see that her body was shaking. She sat down against the wall of the van, resting her head back and closing her eyes.

"I am sorry, Rick Alder, Tal Tu," she managed to say, "but your form brings to mind violent memories that are just out of my grasp. Perhaps they will become clearer as we get nearer the gorge."

She looked across at the young woman named Mara, who was sitting opposite her, watching with obvious concern. Tolwyn shook off the bad images and smiled.

"Let us see how this magical carriage works, Christopher Bryce."

Bryce returned her smile, and turned the key. The engine roared to life and Tolwyn jerked forward. "Relax, Tolwyn," he told her, "that's just the magic working. Hang on everyone."

Within an hour, Bryce was driving west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The fury of the storm had lessened, but the sky was still gray and overcast. Jokingly, the priest asked aloud, "Where to, everybody?"

"To the gorge, Christopher Bryce," Tolwyn answered. There was no humor in her tone, and her eyes were wide and serious.

80

Andrew Decker checked his gear for the third time. Then he scanned the remainder of his group. Of the eleven soldiers he started with, only seven had made it with him out of the storm. They stayed with the ve-

hicles through the long night, but were not ready to move further into the zone of silence.

"Sergeant, what's the diagnosis?" Decker asked Sergeant Lewis.

"There's absolutely nothing mechanically wrong with the truck or the two jeeps," the sergeant replied, "but we can't get the engines to turn over or anything. If we're going to go on, it'll have to be on foot."

He hated to leave the vehicles, but whatever was blocking radio and television signals was apparently affecting their transportation as well.

"We either sit here, walk back into the storm, or continue north, sergeant," Decker said. "I'm for going forward."

The sergeant nodded. "Sounds good to me."

So the group left the dead soldiers in the shallow graves they had dug for them, and proceeded to march along Highway 15. The Susquehanna was on their right, and some thirty-five miles north was I-80. Decker planned to turn west there and keep the soldiers moving until they passed out of the zone of silence.

But before they had walked two miles, the group encountered a band of refugees. They were dirty and disheveled, and they carried with them whatever possessions they could. Decker halted the soldiers, then stepped forward to speak to the refugees.

"Where are you heading?" he asked, turning on his best politician charm.

"Get out of our way," one of the men said, placing himself between Decker's group and the women and children that traveled with him.

"I'm Congressman Andrew Decker, and I'm here to help you."

"Bah," the man spat, "look around you, 'congressman.' America doesn't exist anymore. At least not here, not up north. The land's been claimed by dinosaurs and savages. That's why we're heading south, to get away from the monsters."

"What's up the highway?" Decker asked. "What will we find?"

"Death," a woman answered from the back of the group. And then the refugees walked past, leaving Decker and the soldiers alone to contemplate their own course.

81

Thratchen ran the fingers of his natural hand across the smooth stone surface of the obsidian heart. He looked deeply into its reflective blackness, fascinated by the images it showed him. The shattered planet, with its energy drained, was particularly appealing. Especially when it showed him his own reflection standing upon the ruined landscape.

"Why be a servant, when I can be a master?" he asked himself. He heard footsteps then, and moved away from the heart before the Gaunt Man entered the room.

"The ravagons have moved to detain the stormers, and Kurst is on his way to bring them back to us," the Gaunt Man explained. "With that taken care of, I can concentrate on my work."

"Tell me of Heketon, master," Thratchen asked suddenly. For a moment, he thought he had said the wrong thing. But the Gaunt Man did not seem angry. He stood beside the obsidian heart and spoke in a far away voice.

"The heart came to me on a world very far from here, its distance measured in both space and time. From the moment I first heard its song of power, I knew that that world would be mine."

"What of the legend, master?" Thratchen pressed, eager to hear the tale again.

"The darkness device claimed to come from a nameless god who thrived on destruction. It told me that untold power would be mine if I used it to destroy. But every act of destruction provided me with strength, and when I destroyed my homeworld I received power on a grand scale. I never encountered a nameless god, not through all my travels through the cosmverse. If this being ever existed, it must have died a long time ago."

"Do you really believe that, master? Is the Nameless One nothing more than a myth?"

"If the Nameless One were anything more, would it not have contacted me? Have I not been the greatest of the cosm raiders? Have I not spread its religion of destruction across a hundred worlds? No, the Nameless One is gone, Thratchen, and in its place will rise the Torg—as the legends also say. And I shall be the Torg."

The look in the Gaunt Man's eyes frightened the demon. This High Lord was power incarnate, and the game Thratchen played was virtually suicidal. But the questions that he yearned to answer were never closer, and he would play the game to the last move, no matter its outcome.

"Now leave me, Thratchen," the Gaunt Man ordered. "I have much work to complete before the other High Lords arrive on Earth."

82

The van traveled west on I-76, making decent time despite the falling rain. Father Bryce was at the wheel, talking quietly with Coyote. In the rearview mirror, he could see the rest of their band. Rick Alder and Tal Tu were asleep, resting after working throughout the night to tune up the van. Mara was fidgeting with a small object, and had remained quiet since they left Philadelphia. Rat was reading a comic book and cracking gum. Tolwyn, who Bryce hardly thought of as Wendy Miller anymore, was watching the passing scenery in fascination. He smiled at her wide-eyed expressions and soft sounds of wonder, then he went back to concentrating on the drive.

Most of the traffic was going east, cars and trucks filled to overflowing with personal possessions and families. Many of the refugees were on foot, moving along in groups huddled together for safety. If they were fleeing from the same creatures that drove Bryce and others like him out of New York, then the problem was of an even larger scale than the priest had imagined.

On the northern horizon, a massive storm front loomed threateningly. It had been with them since they passed Harrisburg, always on the edge of their vision, always out the corner of their eyes. Bryce glanced to his right every so often to track its progress, but it didn't seem to be advancing. Still, the lightning that danced along its edge frightened him like no storm had ever done before, and that made him uncomfortable.

Bryce checked the rearview mirror, and Tolwyn again caught his attention. He was amazed at the vitality and the strength in Tolwyn's body. She had gotten visibly stronger each day at the hospital. Somehow, he knew that this young woman named Tolwyn was already physically stronger than Wendy Miller had ever been.