torg 02 - The Dark Realm (29 page)

The werewolf dropped to the floor, under the larger body and raking talons, and struck upward with his own claws. Scythak roared as blood flowed. But the tiger was not finished. Scythak twisted in the air, striking Kurst in the back with a foreleg hit like a hammer blow. The wolf slid across the hard floor, smashing into a metal rack. The entire unit, full of items that Kurst could not identify, tipped wildly. With another swipe of a claw, Scythak brought the rack down upon the wolf.

Metal crashed all around him as Kurst tried to twist out of the way. But he could not gather his legs fast enough. The unit landed with a bang, smashing into his shoulder and then coming to rest at an angle across his back. Dazed, Kurst saw that the rack was held in place by a metal barrel, precariously balanced over him. That was all that saved him from the full impact of its crushing weight. The wolf had no idea whether the metal rack could kill him, but he knew the pain would not be pleasant. No matter, for while he was not crushed, the rack had pinned his large form, trapping him beneath it.

"How appropriate," Scythak growled. "The wolf has been caught in a trap. Stay there, Kurst. I'll be back for you after I finish with Decker and the woman."

122

Mara held the Heart of Coyote in her hands, listening to its song. The others were still in a loose circle around her: Tolwyn, Bryce, Djil. Thratchen had stepped back into the shadows he had come from, disappearing after he watched Mara call the gate. That's what he wanted! But she had no time to contemplate that now.

"I must help Tom and the dwarves," Tolwyn said, preparing to head toward the burning machine far across the vast chamber.

"Please wait," Mara said. "I know how to defeat the Gaunt Man."

Mara felt them all look at her, felt their eyes. Even Thratchen was interested, staring out from his unseen hiding place.

"It's like Djil's story," she continued. "We'll give him the Heart."

"Give him the power he craves? How will that stop him, Mara?" Bryce asked.

"He can't handle it like this," she said holding up the solid blue-red stone. "He has to distill it or something, that's why he uses the machines. In its raw form, this will destroy him."

Djil smiled, understanding dawning as his lips parted and his teeth gleamed forth like the sun. "The

Maelstrom," he said.

"The Maelstrom," Mara agreed.

A scream bounced through the chamber. One of the dwarves was injured — or worse.

"We must come together again, rebuild the gate," Mara explained quickly. She snapped a chip into one of the slots beneath her ear.

"What are you talking about?" Bryce asked again as he took her hand.

"The Gaunt Man is full of energy. But it's a destructive energy, a dark energy. It's the energy of the nothing — what Kurst called the Void. This is a piece of the everything, of Eternity," Mara said, holding the stone for all to see. "If the nothing and the everything come together, it will create a Maelstrom, just like in the story."

"But nothing was able to survive in the Maelstrom except the Nameless One and Apeiros," Bryce finished.

"Exactly," Mara said.

123

Kurst pushed at the metal rack with all his might, but he could not budge it. Not only was it extremely heavy, but he could gain no leverage because of the way he was pinned. Think! he screamed to himself. There must be a way out of this! Perhaps in human form he would be able to slip under the rack.

He shifted, letting his body shrink back to its human shape. But he was still pinned. He needed to be even smaller, to become something else.

That was ridiculous! How could he be something else? He was what he was, no more, no less.

But what if?

The thought took hold of him, refusing to let go.

How had Mara formed the gate?

He thought about that. She had gotten creative with stormer energy. And we gave her our energy freely. That was important. The Gaunt Man had been very careful never to give stormers any freedom. They had no choices beyond those he had specific control over.

If he could change into one form, shouldn't he be able to change into another?

Deep within him, a blue-red glow grew brighter.

Yes, he decided, he could become something else. All he had to do was let his form shift freely, without restriction. He concentrated, feeling the possibilities rise within him. Then he let them out.

And Kurst became a true wolf, the size of a large dog. The wolf slipped out from beneath the metal rack and scampered onto all fours. It was strange and exhilarating! He knew this form! But he didn't remember much more than that. He tested the form, finding that it knew how to walk on four legs even if he didn't.

Kurst, now truly a wolf, sought out the tiger.

He found the the other hunter and his prey outside. The scents were even stronger in this form, and Kurst could practically see by sniffing the air. Decker was firing shots from his gun as Julie worked to start a jeep. Scythak kept moving, shrugging off the slugs even though they obviously caused him pain.

Four legs pumped furiously, four padded claws scraped the tarmac. Then the wolf leaped, ripping at Scythak's leg with vicious teeth. The tiger kicked him, making air explode from his lungs, forcing him to release the leg that he was gnawing on.

"You've learned a new trick, Kurst," Scythak said. "I'm not impressed."

The wolf, smaller now, more animal, looked up at the monstrous tiger that walked like a man. He could not stand against Scythak in his other form, how could he battle him like this?

"What other tricks can you do, dog?" Scythak laughed. "Can you roll over? Can you lay down and die?"

Kurst snapped, clamping his powerful jaws around Scythak's wide neck. He bit deeply, tasting the sweet blood as it gushed forth. Then he was flying through the air, again thrown from his prey by the stronger hunter.

He shifted back to man-wolf form, standing on two legs, throwing his head back to howl a challenge. The tiger was coming for him. He waited, an idea forming in his mind.

What did Scythak have over Kurst? He had strength and endurance. In a claw-to-claw battle, the outcome was obvious. Kurst would die beneath Scythak's teeth, unless he could figure out a way to compensate for the weretiger's size. He had been able to change into a small, normal wolf. He could transform into a giant man-wolf. But neither of those could match the weretiger pound for pound. He needed to find another possibility.

Scythak bounded closer, forgetting his mission concerning Decker as the blood lust for Kurst clouded his vision with red. He barely seemed to notice his torn leg, his bloody throat and shoulder. He had only pain to give; there was none for him to spare on himself.

The form of the bear came to Kurst's mind. The bear was larger than the tiger, stronger. It was not faster, not as cunning. But if it could land its blows, the tiger would fall beneath them. But what did Kurst know of the bear? He knew —

The pattern that the Gaunt Man placed within him splintered, letting out a few select memories as he forced his mind to think. They were not all of his memories, or even his most important ones. But they were the ones he needed now.

He remembered the bear.

Scythak closed the distance quickly, raising his huge claws to strike at the man-wolf. Kurst leaped to meet him, letting his body shift as he flew through the air. The man-wolf grew larger, wider. His hair became thicker, his weight denser. Werewolf had started the jump, werebear had ended it, crashing into Scythak with unbelievable force. The bear form knocked the tiger down, pinning him beneath his massive weight.

Kurst brought one powerful clawed paw down, crushing Scythak's right arm. The weretiger screamed.

"Get off of me, stormer!" Scythak cried, trying to push the bear away. He could not.

"Not stormer," Kurst said through the bear's muzzle, relishing the new-found power. "I am a storm knight." Then he brought his clawed paw down again, splattering the weretiger's blood upon the tarmac. Scythak died, still certain he was going to win.

124

Mara saw the Gaunt Man and his ravagon, standing before the flaming wreck of his machine. The dwarves had done an admirable job dismantling portions of the machine, but now they were huddled back near the wall. Tom was with them. Two more of their number were on the ground, bent in awkward, unnatural ways. It was time for the killing to end.

She let her built-in computer calculate the distance between her and the Gaunt Man. This had to be precisely done. That was why she was leaving a good deal of the job to her computer. That's what it was there for.

"Okay, let's form the circle again," Mara said, leading the group as far away from the Gaunt Man as she could. They were against the wall of the massive chamber, far from the flames that ate at the machine.

"We're missing Kurst," Bryce commented. "Can we do this without him?"

"We must," Tolwyn replied. The others nodded their agreement. Mara let her mind fill with the feelings of the others. They were her group, her teammates, her friends. They shared their experiences freely. They shared their lives. They even shared the blue and red energy that blazed so brightly before her cybernetic eye. And out of that power, Mara formed the possibility of stepping through a gate over here, then stepping out of one next to the Gaunt Man way over there. She added the possibility that the gate would remain open for a few milliseconds — long enough for her to do what she had to and step back. Yes, Mara thought. It was all possible.

Then, with the power supplied by the others, Mara made the possible real. A gate opened in front of her, a portal to somewhere else. She entered it, the Heart of Coyote held out before her, and —

— she was halfway across the room, standing before the Gaunt Man. Her left leg was thrust back, for support. Her right was nearly touching the Gaunt Man's left foot. Her right arm was spread out for balance. Her left hand touching fingertips to the Gaunt Man's chest, as high as she could reach — thrusting into the light that spilled from his wounds. That was the hand that held the piece of the everything. She let it go, for when the everything met the nothing, then came the Maelstrom!

Mara stepped back, reacting with computer precision in the instant that the Maelstrom raged into being. The gate, still open by the power of the storm knights' minds, took her back in the blink of an eye. But Mara screamed. She had miscalculated, her fingertips a centimeter too far forward. Her hand was destroyed by the Maelstrom, and even though it was only mechanical, it was also cybernetic. As metal and plastic wired synapses ceased to be, pain fired through Mara's arm and into her brain. It was worse than losing a real hand, because this metal appendage was totally controlled by conscious thought. She fell to her knees in the center of the circle, between Bryce, Djilangulyip, and Tolwyn.

Somewhere else, she heard a whirling wind of destruction and a pitiful cry. But she could only stare at the severed metal where her left hand used to be. And at the tiny shard of blue stone with red swirls that dropped to the floor beside her.

125

Father Christopher Bryce added his mind to the ritual they were performing for the second time today. Mara, holding the Heart of Coyote, was the focus, but they all added the strength. And the gate opened. He saw Mara, clutching the heart-shaped stone in one hand, step forward and vanish! In the blink of an eye, without visibly crossing the intervening space, she was standing before the Gaunt Man, way across the chamber. Then she stepped back, in another blink, and she was among them again, on her knees. The hand that touched the Gaunt Man was gone, seared away, and the priest felt the young woman's pain as if it were his own.

Falling to the floor beside her, dropping out of the very air that Mara stepped through, was a small shard of blue and red stone. It was all that remained of the Heart of Coyote. Bryce reached down, lifted the stone to his chest. The song was gone, but at least a piece of the

stone remained. He slipped it into his pocket.

Then the explosion occurred.

Bryce flew through the air, crashing into the wall near the iron-studded door. Djil and Tolwyn landed nearby, thrown by the force unleashed in the chamber. Mara was further to his left, near the cracked mirror. In the heart of the chamber a storm raged. It was localized, swirling around the still-visible Heart of Coyote. It filled floor to ceiling, stretching out seven feet to each side. It was a storm of blackness, closing in upon the glowing blue and crimson rock. It touched the ravagon and tore the demon apart without hesitation. It touched the machine, and what remained of the device was consumed within the Maelstrom.

But what of the Gaunt Man?

Within the swirling storm that billowed up from the glowing ball, Bryce could see the Gaunt Man. He was being battered by the mix of nothing and everything, caught within an endless cycle of destruction and creation. But he was holding himself together, using every bit of concentration he could muster to keep his body from being torn apart. Every so often a piece of his body did detach, but the Gaunt Man quickly caught it and replaced it, ignoring the obvious pain. Once he exploded entirely, but he reformed with considerable effort in the center of the storm. Bryce was nearly sick, but as he remembered what had come before, his jaw firmed. It seemed fit punishment for the High Lord.