torg 03- The Nightmare Dream (19 page)

The shapeshifter shook his head. "I should have thought of this. The timer was only one of the mechanisms associated with the bomb."

"Yes," Decker said. "Once it reached zero it would trigger the explosion by setting off a small electric charge. But what has that got to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it," Kurst growled, grabbing Ace's arm. "You were able to set the timer in motion contrary to the laws of this world, but without you to continue the contradiction, the second action did not occur. The bomb will not explode because according to this world's reality, it cannot."

"Are you saying I have to go back there? That I have to be present to set off the explosion?" Decker asked.

Kurst nodded.

"Ace, no!" Julie protested, reaching for the congressman. "You can't be seriously considering such an action. You'll be killed!"

"We told Covent we'd cut off this pathway," Decker said slowly. "We said we'd stop it from being used by

the edeinos."

"Someone from your reality must be present to activate the explosives," Kurst said. "You carry your reality around you, like a bubble. Just getting close will provide the explosives with the ability to complete their job."

"How close?" Decker asked.

"Oh my God, Ace," Julie said, clutching him tightly. "Eddie..."

"The fool!" Decker exclaimed as he realized what Julie was suggesting. He pushed her toward Kurst and started to leap over the boulder, scrambling franticly to find purchase for his boots and hands.

He barely cleared the top of it when the explosion threw him backwards into the mist.

61

At the bridgehead, Eddie Paragon calmly stepped toward the explosive device. He didn't know why he was taking this decision so well, but he knew it was the right one. If he didn't do it, Ace Decker would try to play hero and get himself killed. Paragon knew that Ace was needed elsewhere. Besides, if he didn't do this now, the ravagon would destroy them all.

Realizing what Paragon planned, the ravagon leaped forward. There was a look in his alien eyes that reflected Eddie's death back at him. But Eddie knew that death would not come upon the sharp claws of the winged demon flying toward him. He smiled in satisfaction as he realized that this death was of his own choosing, not of the ravagon's or Baruk Kaah's. And more, he would be taking the ravagon with him.

"Say goodnight, Grade," Eddie said as the ravagon's claws reached him.

Then the world exploded in a burst of sound and fury that obliterated Eddie, the ravagon, and the bridgehead in a spectacular shower of fire.

62

Angus Cage, still dressed as one of the Pharaoh's house slaves, moved down the corridor to the master suite that served as Mobius' living chambers. He had been summoned, and that made him nervous. Could Dr. Mobius have discovered his charade? Absently, he wished he had his tommy-gun with him. He never felt complete without his tommy-gun or his beat-up old fedora, and this job called for him to leave both behind.

He paused before the doors to the suite, noticing that the guards were not on duty. That was strange. He checked his disguise for any flaws, for any evidence that he was not a lowly slave, and found none. Satisfied, he pushed open the door.

"Come in, slave," came the sweet voice of Clemeta, the Royal Escort. She was lounging atop massive pillows that had been arranged on the floor, a goblet of wine in one slender hand.

Cage entered the room as she bade him, feeling the tug of her voice, her perfume. He closed the door behind him.

"You have been a bad boy, slave," Clemeta teased, a wicked smile playing across her full, red lips. "What shall I do with you?"

Cage moved closer, taking in the sight of her. Her jet-black hair hung loose, free of any adornment save its natural luster. She wore a loose-fitting night dress that fell across her curves in the most delicious manner. And her eyes! Cage looked into them and it was like looking into the deepest pool of night. How he wanted to drown

in that pool!

"How ... how can I serve you, mistress," he stammered, trying to keep the words from tripping over his suddenly uncooperative tongue.

"You are not a slave, are you?" It was more a statement than a question, and Cage found that he couldn't resist this woman. He didn't even want to.

"No, mistress," he managed, stepping closer to the bed of pillows.

"But you want to serve me, don't you?" she asked, running her finger across the lip of the goblet.

"Yes, mistress," he heard himself say, but the voice wasn't his, not exactly.

It was as if he had become two people. One was Angus Cage, adventurer from Terra who wanted nothing more than to finally defeat the hated Dr. Mobius. But this Cage was on the outside looking in, as though from the other side of some transparent veil that made his voice sound far away. The other, the one that was dropping to his knees before the beautiful Clemeta, was enchanted by the woman. That Cage could not disobey her if he wanted to. And at the moment, Cage wasn't sure if either of the two people that he had become wanted to disobey her.

"Who are you, slave who isn't a slave?" Clemeta asked. Her fingers were now gently tracing designs across his bare chest with their sharp, painted nails.

He could not resist her question. "I am Angus Cage."

"That name means nothing to me," she said, letting her nails dig deeper. "Who are you?"

Cage tried to fight, to pull away, but he couldn't. Her perfume filled his senses, clouding all thoughts save thoughts of her, blocking out all sounds, save the sensuous sound of her voice.

"I am an adventurer, one of the Mystery Men of Terra," he answered, watching as her eyes went wide. "I am here to stop Dr. Mobius."

She laughed, marking his chest with a deep swipe of her nails. He felt blood well and drip from the long gashes, but he made no move to wipe it away.

"You cannot stop Mobius, Angus Cage,"
^v
she said, fascinated by the rivers of red running down toward his stomach. "He is Pharaoh. He is power."

She gripped his hair and pulled him close, causing him to fall upon the pillows before her. So near, her scent forced itself into every pore of his body. He shuddered with desire for her.

"Your... perfume..." he said, and she laughed again, still gripping his hair.

"Do you like it, my slave?" she asked. "And you are my slave, a real slave, not a pretend slave as you were to Mobius. The scent is a special blend I had made just for me. It enhances my natural charms quite wonderfully, don't you think?"

"Mobius ...?" Cage managed to ask, trying to force rational thought through the haze of perfume. "The guards?"

"Mobius is gone, out working on getting the infernal machine you told your friend about. You shouldn't have done that," Clemeta scolded. "And I dismissed the guards so that we could talk ... undisturbed. Now how should I punish you? How should I teach you that Clemeta is your mistress now?"

Cage tensed, tried to pull away. She held his hair tight, pulled him closer. He could not resist. She kissed him, and his body responded. Every part of him was sensitive to her touch, and he felt as though he would explode with the joy of each brush of her hand or caress of her lips. He kissed her back, and they fell into the pillows in a passionate embrace.

"Yes," Clemeta purred, "you understand what I want. And you want it too, don't you? Don't you?"

Cage, still kissing and fondling her, answered in gasping sobs. "Oh yes, yes!"

"Yes, who?" she demanded, pushing him away with sudden fury.

"Yes ... mistress," he choked, gasping for the return of her touch, ashamed but unable to respond any other way.

"Very good, my slave," Clemeta laughed.

Then she pulled him back down into the soft, fluffy pillows and showed him how to please her.

63

Tom O'Malley had led the group to a small airport he knew of outside the main city of Singapore. He reasoned that they should be able to find an airplane that was waiting to depart when the reality of Orrorsh had replaced that of Earth. Luck was with them, and a small jet was on the runway, fully fueled and waiting for someone to provide it with the reality it needed to take off. Tom was that someone.

Father Christopher Bryce, Tolwyn of House Tancred, Dr. Hachi Mara-Two, Djilangulyip, Pluppa, Gutterby, Grim, and Toolpin entered the plane with Tom. The majority of the group took seats in the cabin and buckled in. Mara, however, joined Tom in the cockpit and strapped into the co-pilot's chair.

Tom let out a gratified sigh when the engines started up. "The fuel tanks are full," he informed Mara as he checked the instruments. "I guess this is going to work, after all."

"You mean you had doubts," Mara asked.

Tom laughed. "After what we've been through, I wasn't sure what was going to happen."

"But it works, Tom," Mara stressed. "That means we can leave this awful place."

"Yes, and go on to another awful place," the pilot said sadly. "Do you think this is such a good idea? Going to Aysle, I mean?"

Mara gripped Tom's hand with her one remaining hand and squeezed it tight. "Good or bad, Tom, it's what we agreed to do. And yes, I think it was the right decision."

Tom sighed. "I knew you were going to say that. All right, let's get this show on the road."

The airplane lifted off without incident, and soon they were all on their way west, toward what was once Great Britain.

Toward Aysle realm.

64

"No!" Baruk Kaah screamed, trying to pull free of the black vines that wrapped around his body and connected him to his Darkness Device, Rec Pakken.

"Please, Saar, you must lie still," the gotak named Dar Ess urged, trying to calm her High Lord.

"You do not understand," Baruk Kaah said, already the burst of strength leaving him. He was badly hurt, injured by the stormer that accompanied Eddie Paragon. Had it not been for the ravagon, the gotaks might not have returned him to Rec Pakken in time to save him. Even now it might be too late, but he had no time to think such negative thoughts. "The bridge is ... gone," he finished, trying to express what he felt deep inside himself.

Dar Ess looked at him, confused. "Which bridge, my lord?" she asked.

"The nearest one," the High Lord said in frustration. "The bridge that supplied troops to the storm front. It is no longer open. I cannot feel the flow of energy that was only recently sweeping down it. I cannot feel Takta Ker."

"How can that be?" Dar Ess asked. She sounded frightened. "How could the bridge be gone?"

"Paragon," Baruk Kaah cursed. "Somehow he and his companions have severed the connection."

The black leaves of the dead forest ruffled, then parted, as the Horn Master forced his way into the center of the Darkness Device. "Why have you summoned the Wild Hunt back from the wall of storm?" the Horn Master demanded, forgetting that he was addressing a High Lord. "First you send the Hunt to assist your warriors, promising that the Earthers' reality would soon be replaced by your own. Then, when that did not occur and your own warriors fought to escape the weapons of the Earthers, I ordered the Hunt forward to destroy them for you. The Earthers could not stand before the Hunt. But you called us back. I ask again. Why?"

Baruk Kaah was near death. He was weak from wounds he never expected to receive. But he was still a High Lord, and the Horn Master, though powerful, was not. Baruk Kaah's tail slashed out, striking the Horn Master a deadly blow that sent him sprawling.

"Do not forget who you are speaking to, Horn Master," Baruk Kaah shouted, drawing strength from Rec Pakken. "I have called you back because stormers have invaded my world. Even now they are making their way across Takta Ker for some unknown purpose. They have even managed to sever a maelstrom bridge! I have called you back to do what you do best! Hunt them down, Horn Master. Let the Wild Hunt fly and hunt them down."

The Horn Master picked himself off the floor of the black-stone forest, glaring at the High Lord with fiery eyes. He stood before Baruk Kaah, visibly shaking with rage. Their eyes locked, and Baruk Kaah let his own reveal the depths of his power. Even in his current condition, he was a High Lord. He was the power of Takta Ker personified. The Horn Master finally lowered his gaze.

"I will find them, Saar of the edeinos," the Horn Master pledged.

"Find them, then destroy them," Baruk Kaah added.

The Horn Master nodded, then exited the black-stone forest. Once he was gone, Baruk Kaah allowed himself to fall into a deep healing sleep as Rec Pakken sang to him of power.

He dreamed of conquest, of Lanala, and of his eventual victory as the Torg.

Nightmares

They are the plots and schemes of arch-villains. Madmen call them dreams. The rest of us know them for what they are — the worst sort of nightmares.

— Dr. Alexus Frest

I have a dream, a vision that is the cornerstone of my being. In it, I come face-to-face with my dark god. I meet the Nameless One. And in that moment, I am transformed.

— Thratchen of Tharkold

65

Thunder rolled across the sky like the gallop of a thousand iron-shod horses, announcing the passage of a tower of cloud and darkness that rumbled through the air. Within that tower, the Horn Master rode his mighty stag. Lightning slashed with every pounding stride the stag took, filling the cloud with brief flashes of luminance. The Horn Master held the great horn in one massive fist, waiting for the moment when he would sound it and call the Wild Hunt from its incorporeal sleep.