torg 01 - Storm Knights (33 page)

Deep beneath the tenement, the setting changed. The Gaunt Man was now walking through stone passages decorated with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Men garbed in traditional Egyptian dress tried to bar his way. But the Gaunt Man walks where he pleases, and they suffered for their duty.

He entered a large chamber. A massive black idol rose above seven sarcophagi. The Gaunt Man bowed before the idol, acknowledging the darkness device, then moved further into the chamber. He noted that the sarcophagi, their tops open, were filled with the mummified remains of past pharoahs of this world's Egypt — except for the seventh, which was empty.

"Welcome, Gaunt Man, to my domain," a muffled voice called out.

The Gaunt Man turned to see a tall man approach. The man wore Egyptian clothing, reminiscent of the Old Empire, but he had a pistol at his side and a mask covered his head.

"Greetings, Mobius, High Lord of Terra and the Nine Empires," the Gaunt Man said.

"What brings you here unannounced, Lord of Or-rorsh?"

"I have come to see what delays you. Have you forgotten our appointment on Earth?"

"No," Mobius said, indicating another figure sitting in the shadows, "we were just discussing that venture."

The small Japanese businessman stood, bowed, and returned to his seat. He never said a word.

"My regards to your master," the Gaunt Man said. "I hope Kanawa is well."

Then he turned again to Mobius. "I demand that you open the maelstrom bridges and establish your realm. Tharkold has experienced a few problems, and the time table demands another realm before Earth's energy compensates for the four currently connected."

"Tharkold didn't make it?" Mobius laughed insanely. "Then that means more energy for me."

"Of course, my friend," the Gaunt Man promised. "But if you are not in place by the proper time, I shall personally destroy you and award your darkness device to one of my lieutenants."

The Gaunt Man stepped back, and a tendril of his soul bridge fell from the air. "Remember that, Mobius." Then he stepped upon the bridge thread and was gone.

108

Fourteen hours after Tolwyn saw the picture of the Grand Canyon in an Indianapolis snack shop, the group arrived at Fort Riley, Kansas. Fort Riley, Decker explained, was where he was to report in. As he still had to do that, and the officials there would be able to provide them with transportation to Arizona, he figured that was the logical location for them to head to.

While the others rested and cleaned up, Decker met with General Edward Talbot. He told the general about the trip through Pennsylvania, about the deaths of the marines, and about the meeting with Kurst and the others. The general listened, scribbling a note here and there, but he did not interrupt Decker's narrative. When the congressman finished, the general spoke.

"President Wells asked me to cooperate with you in any way I could. I have to inform you that the capital has been moved to Houston, Texas for the remainder of this crisis."

Decker was shocked by the news. However, for Wells to make such a decision, the zone of silence must have been spreading south.

"General," Decker said, "I need transportation to Arizona. A cargo plane perhaps, or maybe a helicopter."

"That's a big request, congressman. But I do have orders. I'll have a chopper and pilot ready for you first thing tomorrow morning. Until then, I suggest you get some rest. You look like you can use it."

Decker nodded. "Yes sir. And thank you." He went to find the others and tell them what was happening.

109

Mara sat in the base cafeteria, watching Kurst eat. She ran her scans of him through her internal computer three times. Then she went over and sat across from him.

"You carry your own axioms with you, Kurst," she said.

Alder and Bryce looked up from their own meals. "What are you talking about, Mara?" Bryce asked.

"Kurst is a stormer . excuse me, a storm knight. Like myself, like Tolwyn, like Alder and Decker. He carries his own reality with him, but it is not a reality that I have ever seen before," she finished.

Kurst watched the group for reactions. There were only the four of them in the mess. The others were off sleeping or bathing. For a moment he contemplated striking quickly, but then he decided to keep on his mask.

"I am like you, Mara," he said carefully. "I am from another cosm. But that cosm has arrived on Earth. It is called Orrorsh. It is a terrible place, full of evil things you would call monsters. It is also the most powerful of the realities attacking Earth, at least that is what our High Lord claims."

"High Lord? You work for these invaders?" Alder raged, rising over Kurst violently.

It took every ounce of control he could muster for Kurst to keep his own instincts in check. That was why Alder still lived. Instead of striking out, he said simply, "I have left the realm of Orrorsh. Like Mara, I am here to help. Like Decker and Tolwyn, I follow a dream."

"Do you, Mr. Kurst?" Bryce asked. He did not require an answer.

"Let's get some rest," Mara suggested. "We can discuss this more fully in the morning."

The three left the room, but Alder glanced back at Kurst before he exited. "I hope you're telling us everything, Kurst." Then he disappeared through the door.

If I told you everything, Mr. Alder, Kurst thought, then nightmares would haunt what few hours of life you have left.

110

Tolwyn came across Decker in the corridor of the building they were being housed in. He was carrying a scabbard. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of a familiar weapon.

"Andrew Decker, may I see that?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. He handed her the leather scabbard. It had a brass frame, and the polished hilt of the saber fit snuggly against the top of the scabbard.

Tolwyn turned the sheathed weapon over in her hands, examining the workmanship of the casing. Then she slowly pulled the sword from its sheath, watching as the light gleamed off its polished surface.

"What a fine weapon," she said admiringly. "It is not as great a sword as my own, but it will do. Where did you get it?"

"It belonged to a young soldier that was with me when my quest started. He died in the battle I spoke of. I was just taking it to the general so that it could be forwarded to his family."

Tolwyn nodded, replacing the blade into its covering. "May I have it?" she asked. "A warrior's blade should be used by a warrior. I will honor your soldier's memory by using it well."

Decker was taken aback by her request. But something inside him said that this was why he had carried it out of Pennsylvania in the first place.

"Use it well, Tolwyn," he said. "I think Teagle would be pleased that his sword was going to do some good. But remember, it isn't meant for battles. It's just a dress sword."

Tolwyn ran her hand over the fine leather. "It will do, Decker. It will do."

111

Malcolm Kane walked along the south rim of the Grand Canyon, letting the wind blow his blonde hair. His work boots were ideal for this terrain, he decided. And when the sun hit the jutting rock formations just right, it looked to him like they were covered in blood.

He had come to this place at the Gaunt Man's command. He had with him a number of followers, those who were learning the art of death at his feet. They would serve him well when the priest and his group arrived. That's when the test would begin, to see which of them served death better. The priest had his way,

Kane had his own. The Gaunt Man said to kill them all, and Kane would make each death a masterpiece. Each would be an offering to the Gaunt Man, a human shrine to the destruction that he had shown to Kane in a vision.

"The end of the long road is coming, priest. You give your sacraments," Kane whispered to the canyon, drawing his serrated hunting knife from its sheath. "And I have mine."

112

Tom O'Malley had his plane in the air, heading east toward Australia. He was carrying the most unusal cargo he had ever hauled, seven dwarves decked out in armor and wielding melee weapons. What's more, these dwarves were terribly interested in anything mechanical. They were sitting on the floor in the cargo hold examining his tool kit, reading his manuals. Every so often he heard an "ohhh" or an "ahhh", but mostly they talked quietly about the possible uses for each tool, the relative merit of design, and the ways they could improve the airplane.

"How can you people read English?" Tom called back. "I thought you said you came from someplace else?"

"We do come from a different land," the female named Pluppa said. "We come from Aysle. But the High Lord always prepares us with the language of the land we are to bring enlightenment to."

"Is that what your High Lord calls it, enlightenment? I call it tyranny."

"Aye, Tom O'Malley, that's what it is," Pluppa sighed. "But it wasn't always so. Once the dwarves ruled Aysle, and in those days the sky was bright and the land was alive."

"Tell us the story, Pluppa!" Toolpin exclaimed. "Tell us about the gods!

"The gods?" Tom asked.

"We should tell Tom O'Malley the story, for that will let him know where we come from, our heritage. But I am not a storyteller. Gutterby should tell it."

"Yes, Gutterby tells it so well!" Toolpin agreed.

The old dwarf looked up from the engine manual and sighed. "Oh very well. I'll tell the story. Now listen carefully, 'cause I'm not gonna tell it again for at least ten years."

And the story that Gutterby told went like this .

In the beginning there was Nothing. Nothing had been here always, timeless, unchanging, infinite, eternal.

Then the Creators came. Mighty builders, they had labored long and hard and well for others. But their masters had spit upon them and called them bad names, so they fled.

Enduring much hardship and misery during their journey, chased always by the creatures of their vengeful masters, the Creators sought a place where they

could be free. A place where they could build for themselves, and not for others.

Finally, after many long years of travel, they arrived at this place. They knew that their masters would never look for them in the midst of Nothing. They knew they were safe. They decided to create something of their own.

Building Something from Nothing is a difficult job, even for the Creators. But they were not dismayed, for weren't they the greatest craftsmen of all? Stopping only for a quick bite of lunch and a puff on their pipes, they rolled up their sleeves and began.

Fordex, the Eldest, looked about him. "This Nothingness offends me!" he cried. Reaching into his sack, he brought out a single grain of dust. He placed it in the Nothingness before him. "I banish you!" he cried.

Now that it contained a thing—yea, even but a grain of dust — the Nothingness was no more. For the Law says, "if a thing be one thing, it cannot also be another." A thing cannot be both Nothing and have Something in it. The Nothingness was banished forever.

Exhausted by his labor, Fordex rested.

Mighty Errog worked next. "Yes, this is Something, but it goes on Forever! Even We cannot work our will on Forever! I shall create a Limit!" Reaching into his sack, he pulled out a handful of sand. Placing it in his pipe, he puffed mightily, heating the sand until it melted and became glass. He shaped the glass into a mighty ball and placed it around the grain of dust, saying, "This shall be the Limit and Extent of our Creation!"

Exhausted by his labor, Errog rested.

Terrin was next. Reaching into his sack, he brought forth a round, flat grindstone. Using his smallest finger, he carefully poked a hole in its center. He placed the stone in the glass ball, surrounding the mote of dust. "Is that not fine?" he cried.

Exhausted by his labor, Terrin rested.

Movin and Weeble, the Brothers, worked next. Reaching into their sacks, they brought forth chisels and carved the stone, sculpting deep pits, high mountains, oceans and riverbeds.

They, too, rested.

Ghanthor brought forth a flask of water and poured it on the stone. Charon brought forth a twig, and planted it by the water. Mhyrron brought forth an egg, and set it next to the twig. Plantir brought forth a knife and cut off the tip of his finger. Carving it into the likeness of the Creators, he placed it next to the egg and the twig.

They rested.

Then it was the turn of Harp, the last Creator. He looked in his sack, but it was empty! "Alas! I have nothing to give to our Creation," he cried sadly. Then he brightened. "Ah, I know! I shall give Life!"

Saying thus, he breathed upon the twig, and lo! it grew into a mighty oak!

He breathed upon the egg, and lo! it hatched forth a beautiful bird!

He breathed upon the image of the Creators, and lo! it became a Dwarf!

Giving Life, Harp died.

When the other Creators awoke, they were dismayed. "Alas! Harp is dead! He died to give our Creation Life! But look! The oak withers; the bird huddles upon its branches; the Dwarf is afraid! Our creation is flawed!"

Fordex, the Eldest, spoke. "Fools! Living creatures cannot be in the Dark! We need to give our creation Light!" Saying thus, he reached out and picked up the single mote of dust in the center of the creation. He placed it in his pipe, and puffed mightily. It began to glow in the hot embers of his fire.