torg 03- The Nightmare Dream (30 page)

"And what of the Tharkold bridge?" Parok asked.

"We have enough stelae to try another connection, but these have not all been placed as yet," the techno-demon answered. "We do not have as many agents available, due to other ... setbacks our master has endured recently."

"You are to postpone your plans here and accompany me to Orrorsh," Parok commanded. "These are the orders of the Gaunt Man's regent."

"Who is this regent to issue orders to us?" one of the Tharkolds demanded. "We serve only our High Lord."

"What of your High Lord's lieutenant?" Parok sneered. "Don't you also follow his orders?"

"Which lieutenant?" the first techno-demon demanded. "No Tharkold of such rank is on this world."

"Thratchen is," Parok snapped, "and he now serves as the Gaunt Man's regent. He has ordered you to come to him, you and any others you are in contact with."

The techno-demons bowed their heads at the ravagon's words. They had no choice. They had to obey the orders of a lieutenant of their High Lord. "Very well," the first demon finally said, "we will come with you. But one of us will remain here, to complete the process we have started."

Parok shrugged. Thratchen did not say to bring them all back to Orrorsh, only those that would come. If one of them wanted to remain to deal with a stormer, that was not his concern. "Then let us be off," the ravagon declared, stepping back out of the room the way he came.

Two of the techno-demons followed him into the constant night of the still world, leaving the other to carry out the work they had been doing.

108

The last storm front was the worst they had been through thus far, and Tom O'Malley and Mara battled the controls to keep the seaplane flying. The World War II vehicle was not built to withstand the pounding winds and rain within the unnatural storm, and Tom could feel the craft breaking up around him. He hoped it would hold together long enough to make it out of the obscuring weather so that he could find a place — any

place — to set the plane down.

"Tom, we're losing altitude," Mara yelled over the howling wind and the noise of the plane's propellers.

"Nothing to be done, girl," Tom snapped. "Just help me get us out of here."

Rain turned to daggers, and they were flying into a hailstorm of sharp metal. Daggers clanged off the plane's nose, filling the craft with echoing pings. They ricocheted off the windshield, forming dozens of small cracks that threatened to rip through the glass, but it miraculously held together. Tom heard the shriek of metal as even more daggers were pulled through the spinning propellers. He was sure one or both of the engines would fail under this punishment, but they continued to turn, and then the rain was again just rain.

"We're losing fuel, Tom," Mara called, tapping the gauge to coax more pressure out of the needle.

"One of the daggers must have sliced a line," he called back. "We don't have much time left."

Now the plane was entering a lightning filled cloud, and stark flashes hurt Tom's eyes. He contemplated trying to fly out of the cloud, but he feared that if he didn't stay to a straight course they would get lost within the storm front. They were losing fuel too rapidly to be able to afford the luxury of a side trip. Still, if a stray bolt caught one of the engines, and the fuel leak was as bad as he expected, they would explode like a fireworks display.

"One of those bolts would end this trip real quick," Mara commented, echoing Tom's own fears.

Then they were through the cloud of lightning, through the wall of storm, and flying over land that used to be Great Britain. It didn't look right to Tom, though. There was something different about it, something

slightly twisted. But before he could think more about it, Mara called out a warning.

"The fuel gauge just hit empty, Tom," she yelled, a slight hint of panic in her voice. "We're out of fuel!"

The seaplane's engines sputtered, tried to catch, then died, and the plane started its final descent. "Hang on," Tom ordered, "I'm going to try to bring this thing down on a glide!"

"Can you do that?" Mara asked.

"We won't know until I try," Tom answered, then turned all of his concentration to the task at hand.

The harrowing drop turned to an almost-controlled glide toward the Thames River. Tom held his breath, working the controls so that he kept the nose of the seaplane up, the wings level. The water was rushing toward them very quickly. He had slowed their speed somewhat, but he feared they were still going to hit at too great a rate of speed. If they came in too hard, the water would be like a brick wall to the old plane. They would be smashed into a hundred bits. Then all speculation ended, and the seaplane crashed into the river with a mighty splash.

109

Decker, Julie and Kurst stepped off the jungle bridge into a land that was not filled with hot mist. Instead, they found themselves in a gloomy, shadowy forest of gnarled trees and withered plants. It wasn't exactly a dead forest, but Decker wasn't sure you could call it living either. In any case, it was very unhealthy looking.

"Is this Aysle?" Julie asked, as she followed Kurst onto a well-traveled path.

"We have reached the magical reality," Kurst informed them. "I have only visited this cosm once before, so it may take me some time to figure out where we are."

"We don't have a lot of time," Decker snapped, looking back over his shoulder as he jogged behind them.

"This is not like my world, Decker, or like yours," the shapeshifter countered. "Direction is measured differently on a world which is flat and doesn't spin."

"What are you talking about, Kurst?" Julie laughed. "Don't you know that the world isn't flat?"

"Your world isn't, nor mine, but Aysle is a flat disk," Kurst said. "The laws of physics even operate differently here."

"That's ridiculous!" Julie exclaimed, pushing past the shapeshifter. "How can you expect me to believe that a flat world can exist? It's like something out of the dark ages."

"Exactly," said Kurst.

"What does that mean ...?" Julie started to ask, but her words caught in the back of her throat as the forest ahead cleared. There, rising out of the horizon, was a bright yellow sun. It was much larger in the sky than the sun of Earth, which meant it was much closer.

"It travels through the center of this world," Kurst told her, "bouncing up and down like a flaming ball. This is Aysle, Julie Boot, not your Earth. This is Tolwyn's world."

Decker heard thunder somewhere behind them, even though the sun was shining overhead. "Let's worry about the differences later," he shouted. "Right now I think we should get moving. That storm is awful close."

Kurst nodded, again taking his place ahead of Julie. Then the trio was off, racing down the path as fast as they could go.

110

Thratchen sat staring into the crackling flames that burned in the huge fireplace, watching as the logs were consumed by the hungry fire. He went over everything he could think of, looking for some flaw in his plans. Dr. Hachi Mara-Two and her companions were on their way to Aysle, thus occupying Uthorion. The cybernetic hand he had provided her with after her own was lost allowed him a small amount of contact with the young woman from Kadandra, but so far she had not discovered the surveillance mechanism. Baruk Kaah was caught up in his own problems against the Americans, and Jean Malraux had yet to make an appearance in France. Only Mobius and Kanawa were mysteries to him, but he felt that he would be able to handle any interference they might attempt. Even the wild card in the shuffle, Malcolm Kane, was currently working with one of Thratchen's necromancers in Singapore. He would not be able to interfere either.

There was a knock at the door to the large dining hall, and Thratchen was brought out of his contemplation. "Enter," he called, half-expecting one of the servants to be at the door. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see Sabathine.

The vampyre sauntered into the chamber with practiced grace. She wore a dark blue cloak that clung to her shapely form. As she entered, she threw back the hood and let her shiny black hair fall free. Her alabaster skin looked even paler in the fire light, but her eyes sparkled and her lips were full and red.

"Any word from the Gaunt Man, Thratchen?" Sabathine asked, stopping beside the techno-demon's chair.

"Hmm? No, nothing yet," Thratchen said, somewhat distracted by the vampyre's unnatural beauty. He took her death-cold hand in his, remembering the last time they were together. But he was not under her vampyric spell, although he had felt her try her powers on him on more than one occasion. Instead, he was using her the way she was using him, and in many ways that was a preferable arrangement to any other they might make.

"Sabathine, what do you know of the Nameless One?" Thratchen asked as he stroked her hand, trying to warm it even though he knew there was nothing he could do to banish the cold of death.

The vampyre smiled at Thratchen, showing pearl-white teeth against the blood-red color of her lips. "That old fable? What is there to know?"

"You believe it is just a story?"

"A story? Yes, that is what it is. Perhaps there was some truth to it once, but that was long ago, before even the Gaunt Man existed."

They two were silent for a time, Thratchen staring into the flames as he held her hand, Sabathine regarding the techno-demon with an amused expression. Then Thratchen, still looking into the fire, spoke.

"I believe that you are wrong, Sabathine," Thratchen said. "I believe the legend that speaks of the first maelstrom is true. I believe the Nameless One and Apeiros were the first children of the mating of Void and Eternity, and that they lived on to become as gods."

Sabathine scowled. "These stories obsess you, Thratchen. I can hear the awe and wonder in your voice. Why do they hold such meaning for you?"

Thratchen looked up into the vampyre's eyes. "The pursuit of knowledge is to me as blood is to you," the techno-demon admitted. "You drink the life out of human cattle in order to survive, and the drinking is ecstasy to you. I, on the other hand, am filled with a curiosity that rages through me like the hunger rages through you. To satisfy that hunger, I must go to any lengths to uncover facts and theories with which to feed it. Like the Void craves Eternity, I crave knowledge and the power it can bring me."

"To what end, Thratchen?" Sabathine asked. "What will you do with this knowledge and power if you actually achieve it?"

Thratchen laughed heartily. "There is no 'if,' lovely Sabathine, there is only 'when.' The Gaunt Man and the other High Lords spread the Nameless One's religion of destruction across the cosmverse, whether they believe in the god or not. I seek proof not of if the Nameless One ever existed, but if he still exists today."

"And if he does?" she pressed, an unfamiliar edge to her voice that might have been the sound of fear.

"Then I shall meet him, and finally receive the answers that I crave."

Sabathine pulled her hand away, her eyes wide in surprise. "Be careful what you wish for, Thratchen," she warned. "There are some gods that are better worshipped from afar."

But Thratchen had not heard her warning, for he was again staring intently into the roaring fire. He did not even notice when the vampyre left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Ill

Father Christopher Bryce picked himself off the floor of the seaplane. He had been thrown from his seat on impact, and he had blacked out. From the amount of water around him, he assumed that while the plane survived the crash, it was quickly filling with water.

Bryce got to his feet and surveyed the plane's interior. He saw the dwarves (all four of them) helping Djil get out of his safety harness, and Tolwyn was working on forcing open the side hatch. Tom and Mara emerged from the cockpit a moment later, moving toward the hatch as well.

"I guess we made it," Bryce said to no one in particular.

"Not yet," Tom countered. "We still have to get out of this thing before it sinks."

Mara and Tolwyn managed to force the hatch open, and water poured in at a terrifying rate. It was like the entire river was trying to get into the small seaplane. "Hurry!" Tolwyn ordered, grabbing Tom and tossing him through the hatch. "Everyone must get off of this craft!"

Bryce half swam to the hatch, pressing against the wave of water. He felt small hands pushing him forward, and silently thanked the dwarves for their assistance. Then he was beside Tolwyn.

"Can you swim, Christopher?" the paladin asked as she grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Yes," the priest replied, getting ready to be tossed into the river.

"I can't," Mara suddenly admitted. "At least not very well." She was looking out the hatch with a mixture of fear and dread, and Bryce thought again that while Mara was an extremely intelligent and gifted child, she was still just a child.

"I'll help you," Bryce said softly, taking her arm.

"I can fly a plane, fight a war, even travel from one cosm to another, but I've never learned how to swim," Mara told him.

"Well, nobody's perfect," Bryce smiled, and Mara laughed out loud.

Then Tolwyn pushed, and the two of them splashed into the Thames River.