The Tower of Endless Worlds (22 page)

“Why was the Tower constructed in this fashion?” said Krastiny. “If one can travel from world to world with ease, it seems to indicate that the Tower was constructed as a means of transportation. Yet why build it with one-way doors?”

Wycliffe shrugged. “Who knows? As I said, I don’t know who built the Tower. Marugon told me that his foes believed that their gods reared it uncounted eons ago.” Gloaming hissed. “He himself suspects spell casters of awesome power reared millennia ago. As for myself, I think an ancient race, something higher up on the evolutionary scale than us, built the thing before they went extinct. But I don’t care who built it. Whoever built it departed long ago, and left it for men like you and myself and Marugon to use.” 

“Perhaps,” said Krastiny. He laughed. “I hope you will forgive my questioning. It is been a very long time since I encountered something that shook me so thoroughly.”

“Not at all,” said Wycliffe. “Inquisitiveness is the mark of the truly educated mind.” He smiled with the memory. “I had a thousand questions of Marugon myself. Of course, he had questions of his own. About everything, really.” He snapped his fingers. “In fact, he sent a special message via imp a month ago. He wanted books.”

“Books?” said Krastiny. “What sort of books?”

“All sorts of books. History, physics, astronomy, chemistry, metallurgy. Quite a few related to nuclear physics, for some reason. I wound up spending something like three thousand dollars on books.” He jerked a thumb. “They’re waiting for him over at the office.”

“Quite a broad range of subjects,” said Krastiny. “But if, as you say, he came from a pre-industrial society, no doubt they fascinate him.” 

“Absolutely,” said Wycliffe. “My questions about him were satisfied after a few weeks. But everything was of interest to Marugon. He never stopped asking questions about…everything, more or less.”

Krastiny laughed. “One more question for you, if you’ll permit.” 

Wycliffe nodded. “You sound like a member of the press. Go on.”

“Why is it called the Tower?”

Wycliffe frowned. “What?”

“It does not seem like a Tower, more like a vast labyrinth that touches on innumerable worlds.”

Wycliffe shrugged. “It is, in fact, a Tower. It stands on Marugon’s world.”

Krastiny frowned. “How?”

Wycliffe gestured at the door. “We have doors on our world. But the Tower actually stands on Marugon’s world. He entered it through its front gate, not a simple door.”

Krastiny’s frown deepened. It made him look like a malformed Easter egg. “That…makes little sense. How can the Tower be infinite, yet stand on Marugon’s world?”

White light flashed. A man in a ragged black uniform stepped through the door. He carried numerous guns. He offered a short bow to Wycliffe and clattered down the stairs. Kurkov turned and ground his cigar out beneath his boot. 

“Marugon’s soldiers,” said Wycliffe.

More and more soldiers streamed through the door, until a double column of forty stood on the warehouse floor beneath the platform. Some glanced with obvious fear at the hooded thugs. A soldier in a crimson cloak stepped through the door and barked out a command. The soldiers turned and stood in some sort of formal salute, weapons in raised in guard. 

There was another flash of white light.

Marugon stepped through the door. 

He looked much as Wycliffe remembered, a tall, pale man swathed head to foot in black robes, though silver marked his black hair at the temples. For a moment his dark eyes seemed like pits into a bottomless void. Kurkov stood stone still, watching the Warlock with an unblinking gaze. Krastiny’s hand twitched towards his gun. Gloaming groveled on the ground, and the slouching thugs muttered to themselves, as if afraid. Wycliffe always felt as if there was something else mingled within the Marugon's flesh and blood, something dark and mighty that sent a cold thrill of fear down his spine. 

Wycliffe made a bow. “Lord Marugon.”

Marugon extended his hand. “This is the custom on your world, no?” His lips crooked into a sardonic smile. “And what is the saying you have? When in Rome…”

Wycliffe laughed. “Do as the Romans do.” He shook Marugon’s hand. It felt like bars of frozen iron encased in skin, and he laughed to hide his unease. “Welcome to Chicago once more, Lord Marugon. Welcome back.”

Marugon smiled and looked at Krastiny. A muscle twitched in the little man’s face. “And this is your business partner, no?” Pack mules and their drivers entered, each animal loaded down with heavy leather sacks. The hydraulic lift whined to life. 

Kurkov coughed. 

Wycliffe waved him over. “Actually, ah…this is my business partner. Lord Marugon, this is Vasily Kurkov.”

Kurkov gave a curt bow. 

“Ah,” said Marugon. “Another man with the wit to seize an opportunity. It is well for me that there are such men on your world, master Wycliffe, is it not?” He smiled and ignored Kurkov, who seemed relieved. “But I misspeak, do I not? You are now Senator Wycliffe?”

Wycliffe grinned. “Yes. The election two years ago.” He thought of Eddie Carson and Senator Fulbright. “It went remarkably well.”

“Good,” said Marugon. “Very good. I still do not quite understand this process of voting, as you call it. Power is for the strong, to be wielded over the weak. Yet in your nation the weak give the power to the strong. Very strange. But yours is a strange world.”

“I didn’t think they had Nietzsche on your world,” said Krastiny.

Marugon raised an eyebrow. “And who is this, Senator Wycliffe?”

“This is Dr. Krastiny,” said Wycliffe. Krastiny bowed. “He is a physician, and a most erudite man. He serves Vasily as head of security.”

Marugon’s gaze flicked back to Kurkov. “A wise choice, young man.”

“As I have mentioned, they come from Russia,” said Wycliffe. “It was a part of a vast empire, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, that collapsed about twelve years past. Most of the arms and ammunition procured for you come from old Soviet arsenals.”

“The weapons are obsolete and antiquated, no doubt. Inferior equipment,” said Marugon. “But they serve my purposes quite well, quite well indeed. What is the great lesson, Senator Wycliffe?”

Wycliffe smirked. “Power is relative.”

“Yes.” Marugon’s eyes wandered over the warehouse. The rows of slouching thugs had fallen to their knees. They looked like lines of leather-jacketed boulders. “Have the allies I have sent proven useful?”

Wycliffe frowned. “Quite…useful. They guard the premises with a diligence that I could not find on this world.” He glanced at the glassed-in room. “Though their dietary requirements are somewhat troublesome.”

Marugon laughed. “No doubt! They are a handful to manage properly. Yet they are loyal, and utterly without peer in battle.”

“Why are they all kneeling?” said Krastiny.

“Because I have come. I am their master.” Marugon grinned. “And their chieftain has come, as well. Meet my head of security, Dr. Krastiny.”

The door flashed.

A huge man stepped out of the Tower’s door. He wore jeans, a battered leather motorcycle jacket with the hood pulled up, and mirrored sunglasses. A thick black beard masked the lower half of his face and dangled across his chest. Wycliffe took an involuntary step back. Malice seemed to roll off the huge man in waves. Krastiny’s hand had darted to his concealed gun again. The huge man looked over them all, head titling to one angle.

“You may call him Goth Marson,” said Marugon. “He is the lord of the winged ones. He is curious about this world, and so has come to see it for himself.”

“Ah…then he is welcome, of course,” said Wycliffe, half-lying. 

Marugon smiled. “No doubt.” He looked over the warehouse. “It seems this place has grown since my last visit, Senator Wycliffe. If you will show me the changes…”

“Of course,” said Wycliffe. “Right this way.” He led Marugon down the stairs, Kurkov and Krastiny at his side.

Goth Marson followed with the deadly grace of a hunting lion.

Chapter 18 - They Are Hunting For You

Anno Domini 2003

"Where are they?" said Conmager, staring at Simon's front door.

Simon fumbled with his keys. “Inside. They’re in the living room.”

Conmager shifted his staff to his other hand. “Are they wounded?”

Simon tried to still his shaking fingers. “No, no. Nothing like that. They’re a bit underfed, but otherwise well.”

Conmager sighed in relief. “The gods be praised.”

Simon managed to find the right key. “The girl’s healthy. I think. But she’s a bit strange…”

Conmager frowned. “Girl?”

The keys slipped from Simon’s hands. “Yes. A girl. The door opened, just like you said it would. A little girl ran out, carrying the boy.”

Conmager grunted. He took a step back, tucked his staff into the crook of his elbow, and raised both his hands. His fingers traced precise designs in the air. He muttered something, his words carried a sighing echo.

The door unlocked and shuddered open a few inches.

Simon gaped. “What did you do?”

Conmager scooped up the keys and handed them to Simon. “I opened the door. A girl and a boy, you say? There were no men?”

“No,” said Simon. “Wait. I did see a man, through the door. He was fighting some shadowy things with two burning swords. The door slammed shut before he could come through. I think he’s dead.” Simon turned. “You coming?”

Conmager leaned against his staff, his forehead pressed against the dark wood. He looked exhausted. “What didn’t you tell me, Master? You said two men and an infant. Two men and the King.” He shook himself and strode through the door. “I must see them.”

Simon led him through the front hall, and Conmager’s staff brushed against his hand. Simon winced and pulled away. The staff felt like a live wire. He led Conmager through the dining room and into the living room. 

Ally waited on the couch, staring at them. 

Conmager fell to one knee and stared at Lithon, asleep next to Ally. “Your Majesty.”

Simon frowned. “Majesty?”

Conmager lowered his head. “That child is Lithon Scepteris, king of all Carlisan. What is left of Carlisan.”

“And who is the girl?” said Simon, doubt and fear battling for control of his mind. “The High Queen Ally of Lollypop Land?”

Conmager shook his head. “No.” He stared at the girl. She stared back. “I have seen you before. I could swear it.”

Ally shrugged. “I don’t remember you.”

Conmager closed his eyes. “I was at the courtyard of Castle Bastion. Lord Marugon had come. The Master faced him. He yelled for us to run and turned his spells against Marugon. I had a child in my arms, a girl. I didn’t know who she was. I ran. I stumbled. I lost the child. I turned back. I could not leave the Master to face Marugon alone. I saw…” Conmager’s voice broke. “I saw that bastard Rembiar betray him, I saw Goth-Mar-Dan…he…” Conmager shook his head. He rose and stepped towards the girl.

Ally flinched away from him. For a moment it seemed like symbols of white light crawled up the staff. “What is that thing?”

Conmager blinked. “This?” He hefted the staff. “This is my last resort, should the winged ones take me. I have spent much of the last year laboring over it. It is crude, I know. But it will suffice, should things come to a last desperate course.” He looked at Ally. “Does it frighten you?”

Ally nodded, eyes locked on the staff. Conmager leaned it in the corner. “Is that better?” Ally nodded again. Conmager reached for her, fingers shaking. He laid his hand on her forehead. He bowed his head, eyes trembling behind closed lids. 

“What are you doing?” said Simon. 

Conmager took a step back, sweat beading on his forehead. “Who are you?”

“Ally,” said the girl.

Conmager stared into her eyes. “Where did you come from?”

“I don’t know,” said Ally. 

“Tell me,” said Conmager.

Ally’s eyes went glassy. “I woke up on a plain. Some soldiers found me. But Liam came, with Lithon. He killed the soldiers. I went with him.”

“Liam,” said Conmager. “You mean Sir Liam Mastere?”

Ally nodded.

Conmager blew out a long breath. “I should have known. An old man with two burning swords. Of all the Knights, only Liam Mastere could wield two Sacred Blades at once, his own and his slain father’s. And he paid a terrible price for that power.” He took Ally’s hand. “You know he is most likely dead, don’t you?”

Ally bit her lip and nodded. 

“This plain,” said Conmager. “Was it the Crimson Plain?” Ally gave a nod. “Was there anyone else with Sir Liam? Another man, another Knight?” 

Ally shook her head. 

Conmager dropped her hand. “What am I to do?”

Simon frowned. “What?”

Conmager ignored him. “I cannot do this. Master. So much has gone wrong that you cannot have foreseen. I thought Sir Liam would know what to do. But he is dead. All the Knights are dead. All the Wizards are dead. I am no Wizard, I am no Knight, and I am all that is left. And I cannot do it. I am not equal to it.”

Simon scowled. “What are you talking about? I thought you were spouting nonsense before about…about that Tower, and other worlds, and interplanetary gunrunning. But this…this is beyond the pale. Wizards? Spells on a staff? I don’t understand. You were keeping things from me before, I know it. I think it’s past time you told me everything.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Conmager. “There is nothing more that can be gained from secrecy. I will tell you what I know. But I do not know everything.”

The front door slammed shut. Conmager whirled and got to his feet, faster than lightning. A glimmer of white light flashed in his fingers. 

The living room door opened. Katrina stepped inside, carrying a paper shopping bag. Conmager stepped towards the corner, reaching for his staff.

“Simon?” Katrina froze and dropped the bag. Her eyes fixed on Conmager, who stared back. “So you must be the famous Conmager I’ve heard so much about.”

“I am. And you?” Conmager’s hand wrapped around the staff. He started to lift it.

Alarm bells went off in Simon’s head. “Conmager! Wait. This is Katrina Coldridge. She went to get clothing for the children. I’ve told her everything.”

“I hope you trust her with your life,” said Conmager. “For that is what you have done, telling her these things.”

Simon glared. “I do. She’s my fiancée. I trust her with everything.”

“Ah.” Conmager paced to the window, his staff clicking against the floor. “Then you have put her in as much danger as you are yourself.”

“Is that a threat?” said Katrina.

Conmager barked a humorless laugh. “It is the truth, my lady. Simon Wester brought you into great peril when he told you of me. And even greater peril came into this house when you took in the children. I am grateful for your help, do not doubt. I will always be grateful, for so long as I live.” His mouth quirked. “Which may not be much longer.”

“You were going to tell me everything?” said Simon, trying to sound commanding. “So tell us. What is going on?”

“Very well.” Conmager sat in the recliner, the staff propped between his knees. “In my youth I was a thief and a highwayman, I told you this, true?”

Simon nodded. “You did.”

Conmager closed his eyes. “One day I saw an old man in a ragged green cloak. He was alone and looked helpless. So I determined to rob him. I sprang down from a boulder with a pair of daggers in hand and demanded his valuables.” He smiled. “Little did I know that Alastarius, Master of the White Council, often traveled the High Kingdoms in an old green cloak to hide his Wizard’s robes. He threw aside his cloak and overpowered me in a heartbeat. I thought he would kill me. But he saw something in me. I do not know what, even to this day. So he took me as his apprentice.”

Katrina snorted. “Wizard’s apprentice? Do you think we’re idiots? Do you expect us to believe that?”

Conmager pointed at the coffee table and whispered. The remote control flew from the table and landed in his hand. Ally sat up straighter, watching him. 

Katrina’s brows knitted. “What the hell…”

Conmager held out his other hand and whispered. The coffee table rattled. Before Simon’s astonished eyes, it started to float into the air. It rose two feet and hovered. 

Katrina went white. “Holy shit.” 

“Are further demonstrations necessary?” said Conmager. “It is against the disciplines the Master taught me, but I am sorely pressed for time.” 

Katrina managed to shake her head. “No.”

“Please put the table down,” said Simon.

Conmager lowered his hand. The table drifted back to the floor. He grimaced and shook his head. “That is not easy for me.”

“I…I should think not,” said Simon. “Lifting a table with the power of your mind and all.”

Conmager sighed. “It should be easy. It is one of the simpler spells. Yet I did not take to the white magic very well, despite Master Alastarius’s efforts. But I remained his apprentice, his faithful servant, and his friend. I accompanied him when the High Kingdoms marched against the Black Council.” He glanced at Simon. “You have told your betrothed of this?”

“Yes,” said Simon. “I told her everything.”

“Though I certainly didn’t understand it,” said Katrina. 

“The High Kingdoms destroyed the Black Council and won the war, yet one Warlock escaped,” said Conmager.

“This Marugon fellow you keep mentioning,” said Simon. 

Conmager nodded. “When he returned…he raised an army from the dregs of the High Kingdoms and armed them with guns and bombs and fire. They swept south from the Wastes like a storm. The Knights and the Wizards of the White Council thought we would win. They did not understand what Marugon had unleashed. But Master Alastarius did.” He closed a fist. “The Master had the gift of Prophecy. Sometimes he had visions, and caught a glimpse of what lay in the future.” Conmager rubbed a hand over his eyes. “He told me that one day I would find myself on Earth, on the world where Marugon found the guns. And he said that someday the King of Carlisan would arrive on Earth, with others, and that I must find him and guard him, whatever the cost.” He fingered his staff. “Whatever the cost…”

“I thought you said two men were supposed to come with this King,” said Katrina.

Conmager shrugged. “Master Alastarius Prophesied that the King of Carlisan would come to Earth with companions. He thought these companions would be two men.” He looked at Ally. “Apparently he was wrong. Or things did not go as he had hoped. Sir Liam Mastere did travel with this girl, we know.” 

“Why is the toddler so important?” said Katrina. “I mean, you said that this kingdom…Carlisan, or whatever the hell it is, was destroyed. What good’s the king of a dead nation?”

Conmager rubbed his forehead. “Because the Master made another Prophecy, moments before Marugon killed him. He Prophesied that one day Lithon Scepteris, King of Carlisan, would undo Marugon.” He looked at Lithon. “Marugon wants this boy dead. Sir Liam must have taken him to the Tower. If so, it is nothing short of a miracle that Sir Liam got as far as he did. Thousand of miles of mountains and hard lands, with Marugon’s hunters snapping at his heels…only Liam Two Swords could have done it.” 

“So the kid’s here,” said Simon. “Why do you keep saying we’re in very great danger? Lithon’s here, and Marugon’s on your world.”

Conmager shook his head. “No. Marugon is here.”

“What?” said Katrina.

“He must have entered the Tower only a day or so behind Sir Liam,” said Conmager. He laughed. “Do you see the irony? Marugon did not know that Sir Liam had reached the Tower. He thought that the traitor Rembiar would deal with him. Marugon only came to visit his agent Wycliffe.”

“How do you know this?” said Katrina.

“I have made many friends during my time in your world,” said Conmager. “And Senator Wycliffe has made many enemies. Most of them are afraid to challenge him. Those who stand in his way have a habit of turning up dead, or so the saying goes. I am not surprised. Marugon must have taught Wycliffe the secret of the Warlock’s Voice.”

“What’s that?” said Simon.

“A spell of dark power,” said Conmager. “Wycliffe can speak with a Voice of command, and those who fall under his spell heed his wishes. You have heard how that reporter went insane at Senator Fulbright’s campaign headquarters? Perhaps he was commanded to go insane.”

Simon shuddered. “That’s…not possible.”

Conmager smirked. “Think of the winged ones, Simon Wester, and tell me what is possible. Wycliffe has made many enemies, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. They watch him for me.” He rubbed his temple. “And I can feel Marugon. I can feel his dark power, even halfway across the city.”

Simon stiffened in alarm. “Can Marugon…sense you, or whatever?”

“No.” Conmager’s smirk grew bitter. “I am not powerful enough to attract his notice.”

“Then we’re fine,” said Simon, his voice shaking. “You’ll just take the children and go. Katrina and I will never speak of it again, and you can disappear with your anti-Wycliffe friends.”

“It is not that easy,” said Conmager. “Marugon will find them, eventually. He must have sent spell-chained beasts on their trail, creatures that will hunt them even through the Tower of Endless Worlds. They will find the children, and when they do, Marugon will know. And there is worse. If Marugon commands it, Wycliffe will unleash the winged ones to find us.”

Simon felt his knees turn to jelly. “You mean there are winged ones at the Wycliffe Consolidated Shipping compound?”

“At least two dozen,” said Conmager. “Likely more. They have disguised themselves, somewhat, so they can move about like men. They wear black leather jackets with heavy hoods, black glasses, and fake beards. They walk with a marked slouch, to hide the presence of their wings beneath their jackets.”

Simon almost fell. “No. Oh, no. No, no, no.”

“What is it?” said Katrina. “What’s wrong?”

“All this time,” said Simon. “They were there all along. Wycliffe’s new security men. They’re really the winged things.” He could not stop shaking. “I walked past them every day. Every day.”

“My God,” said Katrina. “Those damn thugs always gave me the creeps. But I never thought…well, I suppose that explains why they made my skin crawl, doesn’t it?” She put her arm around Simon’s shoulders. “Here. Take some deep breaths. You’ll make yourself pass out.”