Long ago, in the shimmering depths of the Sargasso Sea, there lived an unusually intelligent fish named Finneus. A sleek, silver-scaled snapper with eyes that gleamed like sapphires, Finneus was more than a marvel of marine nature—he was a scholar, an inventor, and a dreamer. His inventions had revolutionized coral farming and kelp-based energy, earning him acclaim throughout the underwater provinces.
But Finneus had one fatal flaw: he trusted the Astors.
The Astor family, ancient and resplendent, were the wealthiest sea-dwellers in the Atlantic Trench. They lived in a gilded palace carved into the side of a hydrothermal vent, where seahorses served them nectar and their walls shimmered with rare pearl-inlaid mosaics. The patriarch, Lord Malachai Astor, had heard of Finneus and invited him to collaborate on a new system of geothermal energy—something that could power the entire ocean floor.
Naive and hopeful, Finneus shared his designs.
Within weeks, the Astors unveiled the project as their own, presenting Finneus’s invention to the Oceanic Council with no mention of its true creator. They secured exclusive rights, pocketed the profits, and banished Finneus from their court, calling him a “delusional barnacle” when he protested.
Finneus vanished into the kelp forests of the deep south.
For years, the sea forgot him. Rumors of his madness floated through eel channels—tales of a bitter fish muttering in shipwrecks, sketching diagrams in the sand with his tail. But Finneus had not gone mad. He had gone quiet.
He was building something.
When the time came, the ocean currents carried a strange, resonant hum—a sound no fish had heard before. One by one, the great turbines that powered the Astors’ cities began to fail. Their coral lights dimmed. Their palaces cooled. Their gold-plated plumbing clogged with barnacles—impossibly coordinated barnacles.
Then came the final insult: a shimmering message projected across the reef skyline, in a language only the most educated could read.
“FINNEUS REMEMBERS.”
Panic gripped the ocean elite. Lord Malachai, now old and brittle-finned, offered riches for Finneus’s forgiveness. But no diver ever found him, no envoy ever returned.
To this day, the Astors live in dim halls, guarded by electric eels and haunted by shadows that flicker in the dark. Every now and then, a turbine coughs. A pipe ruptures. A pearl turns black.
And always, somewhere in the deep, Finneus watches—quiet, brilliant, and betrayed.
Chuck Chisholm It had been a long day, but a fun one, and Chuck was still feeling energized when the evening Vanguard meeting had finally broken up. JJ and Kyle had pulled in an old friend, Dr. Ted Carbonet, and the three had succeeded in linking the chemicals from the Volksmacht Technology Solutions chemical plant with the pollutants they’d found in the Columbia River and out in the nearby Pacific. Their favorite judge, Rami Saleh, had issued a warrant to search the VST facility, and the evening meeting, despite an already tiring day, had been necessary to prepare for tomorrow’s early morning raid on the Clatsop Spit facility. He should probably just grab a bite and turn in, but truth was, he was still wired.
Meg Halcyon’s revelation in yesterday’s Oregonian — that Ultra’s granddaughter had inherited his powers and was now taking up his name and legacy — had hit not just the city but the world like a bombshell. The crowds around the Pyramid, as people gathered to try and get a glimpse of the new hero, quickly grew to such size that the mayor had to authorize overtime for the APD for crowd control. Scion had finally announced that the Vanguard and the new Ultra would hold a joint press conference in Defiance Plaza the next day at 14:00. That hadn’t entirely broken up the mob, but it had at least thinned it enough to give everyone some breathing room.
Of course his contacts in the media had been all over him yesterday, but he’d kept mum, just like Karen, that is Ultra, had asked. At first he’d been really put out by the new Ultra stealing his chance to go toe-to-toe with Gojira when she’d airlifted the kaiju out to sea. But once he’d gotten to know her, it was hard to maintain the ire. She was direct, open, and very eager – and once he’d learned some of her back story, any lingering annoyance had disappeared. He’d always been an Ultrason fan, but damned if he could justify what the man had done to his own kid in the name of protecting her!
Once the afternoon’s press conference was over – and hadn’t that been a three-ring circus, by god? — all bets were off, at least in regards to the media. While Scion and Quanta had quickly excused themselves for their appointment with Judge Saleh, and of course Artemis had simply vanished into the shadows, Totem, Blue Flame and Chilz had remained for the public meet-and-greet with Ultra. The festival-like atmosphere in Defiance Plaza had been pretty wild, with both public and press anxious to to get up close and personal with the new hero.
After about an hour it had all gotten too overwhelming for her, and Ultra had politely said good-bye before shooting up into the sky, almost too fast for the eye to follow. By that time Totem had disappeared with Meg, leaving the field entirely to Chilz and the Blue Flame – who both loved it. They regaled the reporters and the public with accounts of the fight with Gojira, and happily gave individual interviews with a dozen different news services, from CNN to the BBC (and, as always, taking care to give the local stations equal time). By the time Scion and Quanta had summoned the team back to HQ for the evening briefing, Chilz had won the media interview contest with the Blue Flame by one – the interview with Al Jazeera having put him over the top at the last minute.
Interacting with the media always energized him – he never quite got why so many of the others seemed to hate having to deal with the press. Today had been no exception, and the night was young. He still owed Tori for having run out on her so abruptly the day of the Gojira attack (she’d understood, of course, but he still felt bad – he hadn’t even said good-bye, he’d realized later). On the spur of the moment he decided to giver her a call.
“Hey kiddo, you busy tonight?” he asked when she picked up. “I wanted to make up for running out on you Saturday morning, and I thought maybe a night out dancing might do the trick.”
“Ha! You know me too well, old man,” she laughed. “And you also know you don’t owe me anything for “running out.” What were you supposed to do, let a giant radioactive lizard destroy the city while you gave me a foot massage? But it’s a school night, Chuck, and I have an 08:00 class…”
“Yeah, yeah, and I’ve got — well, I can’t exactly say what I’ve got, but I have to be up even earlier. So I promise not to keep you out past, oh, midnight. What do ya say?”
She said yes, and 30 minutes later he was picking her up on one of the Vanguard’s sky-cycles, a decision which won him major points with her dorm mates, but had Tori rolling her eyes. Still, she obviously enjoyed the flight, and they were both grinning at all the envious stares when they’d landed at Mimoza around 21:00 and been ushered past the line as soon as the door guy recognized Chuck.
By unspoken mutual agreement they both limited themselves to a single cocktail, but they didn’t hold back on the dance floor, spending the next two hours getting sweaty. Tuesdays at Mimoza were Drag night, and they took turns dancing with various drag queens, to the delight of the crowd.
“Aren’t you worried about bad press?” Tori laughed at one point, when he was boogieing with a gorgeous 6’ 2” Latino drag queen named Dixie Normous. More than one cellphone was out, despite the club’s no-photos policy.
“Nah, let the haters make hay out of it if they can,” he laughed back. “Who the fuck really cares these days? Besides, it’s not like I’m going home with her!”
“Well, way to let a girl down gently, sweetheart,” Dixie pouted in mock disappointment, and they all laughed like hyenas. Twenty minutes later Tori finally called it a night, and Chuck reluctantly agreed. “One last trip to the john, and we’ll head out,” he sighed. “Meet you at the entrance.”
But as he pushed open the door to the men’s room he realized he was going to owe Tori another apology — because there was no restroom beyond the door. When he turned around, there was also no door. The relentless disco beat of the nightclub was gone, replaced by the deep, muffled silence of a snowy winter night. He stood in a place that gave him a dizzying sense of deja vu… a place he slowly realized he’d seen before. He recognized the hallucinatory place of ice and cold as the one he’d seen on the day he’d gained his powers; the place he could never quite remember and which he’d convinced himself, in the years since, had been just a dream, a delusion. But now, in a flood of memory it was all coming back to him…
“And so, my mortal child, we meet again, as I promised we would,” boomed a deep, resonating voice that he felt as much as heard. He turned back and looked up… and up… to the blue-skinned giant from his old dream, enthroned on a massive stone seat set atop a small cliff of rock and ice. “Now it is time for you to remember that which I caused you to forget…”
At a gesture from the blue giant a flash of blue light burst in Chuck’s mind, and he did remember – he remembered standing in this very spot, on that day four years ago. Remembered King Logarthin of the Ice Giants of Yotan telling him that he was a half-breed child of the True People of the Ice…
“Chuck Chisholm, your true father was an Ice Giant, moving in the Middle World guised as one of its mortal denizens,” the king had said. His bass voice reverberated off the rocks and ice of the natural amphitheater around them, echoing in Chuck’s body.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Chuck had said then. He might have been confused about what was happening, but not about his parentage. “My dad was not any kind of giant, dude — ice or otherwise! I mean, the man barely stood 5’ 7” for god’s sake! And he sure as hell wasn’t blue. I’d have noticed.”
“Charles W. Chisholm was not your true father,” Logarthin had said, “although he was married to your mother. It is your true father’s blood, running in your veins, which has called out to your kin in your mortal distress. As your body lay dying you have called, and been answered. You have been chosen by the Living Ice, imbued with its power as few have ever been, even amongst the Yotankin, the True People of the Ice.
“But though you have been chosen, you must still prove yourself worthy of the mantle of the Living Ice. As King of Yotan, and the Voice of the Living Ice, I grant you half a lunar year to test your mettle in the Middle World, to prove yourself deserving of the gift you have been given. And then you will return here, to face the Champion’s Challenge™.”
Then the king had seemed to grow even larger, looming over Chuck like a storm cloud, and had reached down to touch a finger to his forehead. In a flash of blue light, Chuck had been made to forget everything, beyond a few dream-like fragments.
And now he was back…
“As I promised then, you have had half a Lunar Year to test your mettle, to prove yourself in the mortal world, to prepare yourself to face the Champion’s Challenge. You have had that grace, and now it time for you to prove yourself to your true people – are you the child of prophecy, long promised? Or just another failure, a promise foresworn by the weak blood of mortal humans?”
“Um, what prophecy, now?” Chuck asked, and was startled by a rumbling murmur behind him. He turned quickly to see a semicircle of stone benches arrayed around the immense stone dais on which he stood, benches packed with scores of ice giants. They varied in size and color, from maybe 12 feet to more than 16 feet in height, and from a deep electric azure to a pale blue that was almost white. Men and women, they thronged three rows deep and started at him with an intensity that unnerved him.
“Long ago, in that ancient time when first we came to Yotan,” the King boomed, drawing back Chuck’s attention, “when first we knew the Living Ice, the Oracles foretold the coming of a child, a mixing of our race with the race of humans. A child who would become the Champion of the Everlasting Winter, the physical avatar of the Living Ice itself, manifest in the world. The hero who would finally break the backs of our enemies, the hated Aesir.”
“Okaaaay,” Chuck said, struggling to take it all in. “And it’s taken this long for you guys to manage to produce this prophecy kid? Even assuming I believe this shit about me being half ice giant…”
“Prophecy moves in its own time, child, and you are not the first – that honor was stolen by my eldest son, a child got on a woman of the Salomani, when they came to the aid of our people during the time of the Great Warming. For indeed, I thought to force the prophecy into fruition, and lay with Hasinda. But Fate will not be by governed by any hand save its own. The resulting child of our union proved a failure and a disappointment – for the Salomani are not true humans, anymore than we, nor true mortals. That false child proved a great mistake, for he went over to our enemies in time, and to this day betrays the destiny of the Living Ice and his own people.
“Over the long years there have been other joinings of our blood with that of mortals – some whelps have been truer than others, the cold blue blood running strong in their veins. But none have proven to be the child of prophecy. After my own disappointing first attempt, I left the task to others of our race, both male and female. Some half-breeds have been raised here, in the heart Yotan, most have grown up in the mortal world. None have proved themselves worthy in the end, however.
“In recent years I listened to my people’s pleas, for as King of the Yotan, surely my blood would run truest when mixed with that of actual mortals. And so it proved, for in your moment of crisis, as you lay dying, your blood reach out to mine, and through me to the Living Ice – and the Living Ice answered you, imbuing you with its very essence and binding you to it.”
“Wait,” Chuck said, feeling suddenly dizzy. “Are you saying—“
“Chuck, I am your father! Prove yourself a true Child of the Ice, and join me. Together we will defeat the Aesir and open up the Nine Realms to the beauty and majesty of the Living Ice!”
“No, it’s not true!” Chuck objected, his chest tightening… was this what a panic attack felt like? “It’s impossible, I don’t look anything like you people!”
“Search your feelings, Chuck,” the King said patiently. “You know it is true, for you can feel your connection to the Living Ice, and through it your connection to me.”
And the truth was, Chuck had been aware, almost from the minute he’d appeared in this frozen world, of a vast consciousness running through everything around him – and through himself. Not sentient, at least not as he understood it, but alive… and aware. Concentrating on it now, through it he sensed the ice giants, to varying degrees… the consciousness touched each of them, but some more deeply than others, and the King deepest of all. Deepest except for himself, Chuck realized…
“Now it is meet that you should stand before us in your true form as our son,” King Logerthin was going on, drawing Chuck reluctantly out of his inward contemplation. The giant (his father? Yes, he knew it was true, with a certainty that unsettled him) waved his hand, and Chuck felt a change begin within himself. It was completely different than the transformation when he became Chilz – that was painless. Enjoyable, almost, if he was honest. This was neither painless nor enjoyable.
Increasingly painful… as his bones grew… and his flesh stretched… he fell to his knees, trying to hold the screams inside… he would be damned if he’d cry in front of these giant blue barbarians… eventually the pain began to subside and he staggered back to his feet. As he did, he realized that he’d gone from his normal human height of 5’ 11”, past his Chilz height of 7’ 2” and now stood… at least nine feet tall, as best he could estimate it. Of course that still left him the runt of this litter – he caught sight of his hands and stared. His skin was now a deep electric blue… a hue very similar to his… father’s.
“But are you worthy of your gifts?” The King asked. “Now is the time when you must prove that you are the one we have waited for, the one who will allow us to finally defeat the arrogant godlings of Aesgart! Show us what you have learned, what you have done with what the Living Ice has given you – defeat the greatest Champions of Yotan, if you can, my son!”
At his words three figures stepped from the shadows beneath the bluff… three enormous ice giants clad in armor and wielding great battle axes. They slowly advanced onto the stone dais and closed in on Chuck, who stood momentarily paralyzed with uncertainty…
Kyle Steiner and JJ Astor VIII It had been a long day, but a satisfying one, and Kyle hoped tomorrow was going to be even more satisfying. He’d been happy to accept JJ’s invitation to come back to his place and enjoy some grilled steaks and fine bourbon. He’d been a little surprised when Ted had also accepted the invitation. One of the original Vanguard, before they’d even had the name, Dr. Theodore Carbonet had hung up his mask before he’d even really begun his superhero career. Now a reserve member, he’d come back to help analyze the chemicals they’d found, both at the VTS refinery and in the nearby aquatic ecosystems.
Now, after eating and an invigorating dip in JJ’s amazing salt-water pool, the three men were soaking in the jacuzzi, sipping their Bonneville Bourbon and feeling quite mellow. Kyle wondered when JJ was going to begin his campaign in earnest to try and lure Ted back to full-membership in the Vanguard. He’d been hinting at it obliquely enough the last two days, as the three worked together, but hadn’t yet made a full on pitch.
“So, I was surprised your pet judge gave us such a grilling today,” Ted said into a momentary lull in the conversation… just as JJ was starting his pitch, Kyle suspected. “He certainly knew the questions to ask.”
“He’s no one’s pet,” JJ said, visibly shifting mental gears. “That’s why we prefer going to him for warrants. There are certainly judges who rubber stamp almost anything put in front of them, and plenty of others who just knee-jerk reject whatever we present. But Judge Saleh takes his responsibilities seriously, and balances the competing needs of the law and of quick action. I like him because he keeps us on our toes – and honest.
“And speaking of keeping on your toes, Ted, have you been practicing with your powers much these days?”
“Oh, I practice regularly,” Ted replied diffidently. “I figure it’s like having a gun – even if you don’t really want to use it, it’s better to know how when you do need to, rather than fumble around and shoot your own foot off. I even practice in that nice Q-Lon 7 outfit you sent over after that incident with the Moth left my original costume.. um, rather the worse for wear. And modesty.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” JJ said, brightening a bit. “Have you given any thought to reactivating your Vanguard status to a full member again? We really do need to expand the roster, and your powers are exceptionally versatile… we’d love to have you back, even if not as a full-time gig.”
“Ugh, no,” Ted grimaced. “I still have no real desire to play superhero, at least not very often. Sure, when circumstances demand it, like with that idiot the Moth, I’ll step in. But I’m much happier pursuing my work – especially after I left Sovereign Industries. These days, running my own private environmental research and consulting firm is much more my speed.”
“Mmmm, thanks to the generous backing of de la Vega,” Kyle added, grinning innocently into his drink.
“Indeed,” Ted agreed, unruffled. “Backing he provided without stings of any kind. Especially not strings tying me to the Vanguard. Look, you guys know I’m there for the team in a real emergency, or for things like this research gig, but I just don’t want to do the superhero thing full time. Sorry.”
He polished off his drink and grinned. “Now, how about another dip in that pool of yours, JJ? I gotta say, it’s soooo much better than a regular pool. But doesn’t it cost a fortune to maintain the salt water?”
“It does,” JJ sighed, recognizing a dead end when he hit one and accepting defeat… for the moment. “But I have a fortune, so that’s OK. Besides, how would you like to exercise in a room full of chlorine gas? That’s more-or-less what it’s like for me in a chlorinated pool… it’s just nasty.”
“I’m going to stay and enjoy the bubbles awhile longer,” Kyle said as the other two pulled themselves out of the jacuzzi. A pity Ted was so set against coming back, his powers were fascinating and Kyle would love a chance to study them in more depth. Well, maybe someday…
Jonny Osaka It had been a long day, but an interesting one… so much so, Jonny hadn’t had time to grab more than an energy bar between the press conference and the evening Vanguard meeting. So now he was finally off to Warrenton to enjoy one of his favorite food carts at the amazing Crash Pod. While food carts had taken off in Astoria in the last decade, the Crash Pod remained the best of them, and he never tired of eating there.
Stepping away from the Monster Burger cart, Jonny scanned for an empty table. The pod was only moderately busy, it being an autumn weeknight, and he quickly found a spot near the Salad-Salad cart. People were generally good about giving him his space at the Crash Pod — the Code of the Carts, as he thought of it — and tonight he wasn’t wearing his costume. So he was a bit surprised when, just as he was reaching for his California Roll Sushi Burger with a side of edamame, someone sat down across from him.
“Excuse me, Jonny-san,” a young Japanese woman said, setting down her own tray (with a spicy tuna hand roll from Jaded Dragon, he noted… good taste, they were da bomb). “Please forgive my intrusion on your private time, but it is urgent that I speak with you.”
She was very attractive, in her mid-twenties, rather conservatively dressed, and for just a moment Jonny thought he was dealing with a fan. But then he recognized her, and his heart jumped for an entirely different reason. He set his burger down and tried to control his features, like Artemis had trained him.
“Good evening, Mariko-san,” he said, and was gratified at the flash of surprise he caught on her face, quickly masked. “How can I help the daughter of honored Oshiro Tatsuo?”
“It is for my father’s sake that I come to you,” Oshiro Mariko sighed. “Or to your alter-ego. I know that you believe, as so many in authority do, that my father is the super-powered criminal known as the Iron Oyabun—“
“The head of the Yakuza on the West Coast,” Jonny agreed. “Are you here to convince me otherwise?”
“I hope to, yes. For my father has been kidnapped, and my older brother, Hisashi is not doing enough to find him. Oshiro Enterprises is a large company, with an excellent security division and deep resources. Yet Hisashi is trying to keep the news as quiet as possible. In doing so I think he is endangering our father”
“Have you informed the police of this… kidnapping?” Jonny asked, his dinner forgotten. “My understanding is that Oshiro Tatsuo is in Japan on an extended business trip. Yes, I’ve made inquiries recently,” he added at her quizzical look, “since rumor has it that the Iron Oyabun has gone missing. Which is a strange coincidence, if the two men are not the same guy.”
“Hisashi refuses to allow the police to be brought in,” Mariko sighed. “Not only does he believe they are corrupt, he knows of their suspicions about our father and his relation to the Iron Oyabun and thinks they would not be interested in helping us.
“As for this coincidence you mention… perhaps the true criminal is purposefully laying low, to strengthen the supposed connection between himself and my father. Surely it must be convenient for him to have this absurd belief continue – after all, if everyone thinks they already know who the Iron Oyabun is, they will not expend any effort to look further. A perfect screen, yes?”
Jonny started to scoff, but then he stopped to really think about it. The idea didn’t seem all that absurd on reflection. It would make a brilliant cover for the real Yakuza head, to have the authorities focus their energies and resources on a… what did Artemis call it? A stalking goat… yeah. The real yakuza leader might even have orchestrated the rumors to begin with, once you started looking at it that way…
“Well, I suppose that’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” he finally said, reluctantly. “But even assuming I buy this idea, why come to me? Does your brother agree with bringing in the Vanguard? Because you must know I won’t be a keeping this conversation a secret, right?”
“Of course not, Jonny-san. But you are at least half-Japanese, and I believe you to be both a man of honor and one with the power and resources to help us. No, Hisashi does not know I am doing this; but I no longer care. Father has been missing for almost two weeks now, and both the Board and I grow fearful. Will you help me?”
“If I can,” Jonny sighed. “Tell me what you know about how your father went missing.”
“His car was ambushed on the way to Jordan Airfield, on 4 September. He was actually leaving for a trip to Japan, and had left Hisashi in charge of the company. It seems to have been a gas attack, from what his security detail can recall. They caught only a brief glimpse of dark-clad mercenaries before passing out. It seems obviously a professional job, but whether by our corporate rivals or some criminal organization I do not know.
“Hisashi has only allowed a small cadre of our security people to be involved in the search, hoping to keep the Board and the public as much in the dark as possible; but he is being too timid! Which is why I am here, seeking the aid of the Blue Flame, and of the Vanguard.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises, Mariko-San,” Jonny said. “But I will pass this on to the team, and we will do what we can…”
Cooper Ravenwing It had been a long day, and a tiring one, given all the public interactions he’d had to endure, so Cooper was pleased when he could retire to the Sanctum, after the evening meeting with the Vanguard concluded. Meg was waiting for him there, and had whipped up dinner for them both, a task made much easier by the magic of the semi-sentient inter-dimensional building. Sitting down to eat in the Yellow Parlor, they talked over the days events, especially the Ultra press conference.
“I think it went pretty well,” Meg said, “but Karen’s got to get used to handling the press… I think she was getting a little freaked out there, at the end. Which reminds me, Louise Lancaster called me this afternoon, and wants to have a private chat… she’s invited me to breakfast tomorrow morning at the Western Empire Hotel. Any idea what she might want?”
“Not a clue,” Cooper shrugged, pouring some more wine into her goblet and topping off his own sparkling water. “But at a guess, I would say she is concerned about her granddaughter, and hopes you might be in a position to help her… you did get the scoop, as she did with the first Ultra. Perhaps she sees some symmetry in your relationship?”
“Mmm, maybe,” Meg sighed. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow; but you know me – curiosity is like an unscratched itch. Hopefully it’ll be a slow news day… but then it’s not like my editor can object to my taking a few hours off after my last story!”
Cooper bit his tongue on a desire to tell her that tomorrow was very likely to bring another big story. Security needed to remain tight on this one, however; and besides, even if the VTS raid proved to be all they hoped, it wasn’t likely to top the Ultra /Gojira story. And speaking of rampaging kaiju…
“Well,” he said, setting down his napkin, “if you’re finished with your tiramisu, I think it’s time we checked in on our former visitor.”
“Ooh, yes, I love this bit,” Meg said, tossing her own napkin onto the table and hopping up. With a smile Cooper rose as well and led the way down to his scrying chamber. A room of many alcoves, this was where he kept an eye on any number of people, places, objects, and even dimensions, via a myriad of arcane devices. A large nook toward the back of the space contained a stone-lined pool of dark water.
Kneeling down, they both peered into the still, black liquid. Cooper waved a hand over the surface, blowing gently across it, then muttering a few words. However many times Meg heard them, her ear could never quite make sense of them… she shivered, despite the humid warmth of the room.
Deep within the water a light began to grow. Another moment, and they were looking at the deep sea. Moving through the dark waters of the Northern Pacific was the sleek form of Gojira, as sinuous in the water as it was lumbering on land. Its powerful tail drove it forward at a steady pace…
“Yes, the creature continues to move westward from the spot in the mid-Pacific where Ultra dropped it,” Copper said with some satisfaction. “I have enough data now to be sure… it is headed in a straight line for Kaiju Island.”
“That’s a relief,” Meg said, gazing intently at the rippling image. “So I can report that “the Vanguard is tracking Gojira, and is confident that the creature continues to move away from the US”, right?”
“That should be fine. I don’t want to be specific about how we’re doing the tracking, nor about the lizard’s probable destination, but the general information needs to be shared. And, if I may continue off the record, I plan to set a mystic barrier around Kaiju Island. It won’t stop anything from coming or going, but it will be a trip-wire of sorts, alerting me to any such movements.”
“An early warning system, eh?” Meg said. “Nice.”
“We remain uncertain if there are other dimensional gateways the kaiju use, elsewhere on the planet, unfortunately… but if Gojira or any of the others show up now, without setting off my mystic tripe-wire, we’ll have pretty solid evidence that such portals exist.”
“Well, you said you had an early morning tomorrow, and I know I do, so… shall I head home, or am I bunking over here tonight?” Meg asked, with a lascivious grin.
“I think you know which I’d prefer,” Cooper replied, with a grin that matched her own. They stood and walked away, leaving the image of Gojira to fade in the water behind them.
Jane Valentine It had been a long day, and tomorrow promised to be longer, so it was with some relief that Artemis shadow-stepped from her office in the AzTech Pyramid to a familiar, and very dark, alley two blocks from her home. She often shadowed in like this, a short distance from the Hayward Building, rather than directly into her loft apartment — it was good for Jane Valentine to be seen coming and going, just like any normal person.
As she stepped out of the shadows onto Barry Street, the Cloak of Night shifted around her, taking on the form of her usual civilian clothes, including her signature white duster. Anyone watching would have thought it a mere trick of the light as her hair seemed to go from black to a lustrous, fiery red. Not that anyone was watching… she was very careful about that.
The bouncer/doorman outside the entrance to the Centerfolds Gentleman’s Club nodded respectfully to her as she strode past, and she returned the gesture. She’d made it clear many years ago where the neighboring business stood in regard to Valentine Investigations, and they’d enjoyed a cordial, if wary, relationship ever since. She found it useful to have a meeting place frequented by many mid-level underworld figures so close to hand, and given her… undefined was perhaps the best way to think of it… relationship with the owner, they found that it was best to have her goodwill – so management didn’t say anything when she came in for a drink and some business, and she saw to it that they remained in good standing with the cops and the OLCC.
As usual, she found the five flights of stairs from the small lobby up to her top-floor apartment little more than an invigorating warm-up. A few of her tenants made occasional pleas for an elevator to be put in, but she’d not seen the need for one in 1902, when she’d had the building built, and she didn’t see the need for one now. Besides, where did they imagine the damn thing could be placed? She noticed none of the requesters ever seemed willing to give up any of their space to accommodate an elevator.
Which first, dinner or a bath? While the lure of the bubbles was strong, Jane knew she’d never get around to the food once she was in the tub. So eat first, then luxuriate. There was leftover pad thai in the refrigerator which should still be good… better, actually, as she found the flavors in many Asian dishes melded together into something even better after a day or two. As she rummaged in the fridge, she considered her next move in the Amanda Parsons case.
The sudden intersection of Jane Valentine’s missing person case with Artemis and the Vanguard’s new interest in Volksmacht Technology Solutions was setting her nerves on edge. It seemed too great a coincidence for the two not be related… but in her 154 years she’d learned that coincidence was a great deal more prevalent in life than most people really recognized. Still…
Her operatives were turning up nothing on the missing woman, which was suspicious if it was just a run-of-the-mill disappearance. Elizabeth Meyers, Amanda’s sister and the one who’d hired Jane, had phoned first thing Monday morning, frantic. She’d felt for days that she was being watched, and then on Sunday her house had been broken into and ransacked while she and her family were at church. The police were shrugging off the break-in as “teenagers,” since a mess was made but nothing significant was stolen; to Jane, it sounded like professionals, searching for something and covering their tracks.
Jane had decided it was time for more direct action – which had the added benefit of allowing Artemis to avoid all the hoopla going on around the Pyramid. Meg Halcyon had got her interview with the new Ultra after the rescue in Denver Sunday morning, and the story had run Monday morning in the Oregonian (and in the afternoon edition of the Daily Star). The public reaction had been volcanic, to say the least, and the crowds around the Pyramid were massive. Fortunately, no one really expected Artemis to be available for comment during the day, and she was happy to take advantage of that when she could.
After reassuring Elizabeth and setting a couple of operatives to keep an eye on the Meyers’ home, Jane had headed over to VST to beard the lion in its den. The lion in this case was Michael McGreggor, VST’sVice-president of Biochemical Research, and Amanda Parsons’ bosses boss. A man in his late fifties, not unattractive in a ruddy sort of way, at least in his corporate photo, he’d spent the last 25 years working his way up the corporate ladder to his current position, according to the barebones research she’d had time for. Unsurprisingly, given his title, his office was in the administrative building out at the chemical plant, rather than at the main corporate offices on the Eastside, which gave her fewer layers of gate-keepers to get past.
When she’d finally reached him, McGreggor had, of course, denied any knowledge of Ms. Parsons – a great many people worked under him, after all, and he could hardly be expected to remember every drone, or keep track of their comings and goings. Was Ms. Valentine sure the woman hadn’t just quit and moved on? Oh yes, he did recall the sad case of Mr. Francisco, who’d died in an unfortunate accident last week… he was Parsons’ fiancé? He’d had no idea, but there you go – perhaps in her grief she’d wanted to be alone, had simply run off, seeking solitude. Of course there was nothing to the ridiculous idea that she was a whistle-blower, there was nothing for her to blow a whistle about – the company was already addressing the minor environmental issues the press had recently blown out of all proportion. No, no more questions, he really had no more time to waste on the matter. Good day!
Jane had left VST with a strong personal dislike of the man – his disdain for women came through even when he was trying to be politic — but with no clear evidence of any complicity in the disappearance of Amanda Parsons. But while she was pursuing her leads, John, Ted and Kyle had been working on linking the chemical samples taken at the chemical plant to the samples from the Columbia and the nearby Pacific. After the joint Vanguard-Ultra press conference this afternoon they had taken their evidence to FederalJudge Rami Saleh. He’d had some sharp questions, but had eventually issued a warrant to further investigate the VST chemical plant “and such other related facilities as seems necessary.” She could only hope the search, which was to be carried out early tomorrow morning, would shake loose something on her case as well.
It was about half-eight when she sat down at the dining room table with a bowl of the re-heated pad thai and a nice Riesling. Jane studied the Go board with the game that she and John had been playing almost a week ago, before he’d been called back to his office to deal with some minor crisis or another. He was getting much better at the game, she had to admit, and he’d given her a real challenge that evening. Still, she’d have won in six moves, she thought, as she studied the board. Maybe seven…
She was jolted from her strategic contemplation by a flashing red light and the urgent vibration of her watch. It was the silent alarm from her offices, four floors below. Reading the alert text, it seemed someone had made the incredibly poor decision to break into the offices of Valentine Investigations! This was unusual… after so many years, most of the city’s underworld knew just how foolish it was to pull this kind of shit on Jane Valentine. It never worked out well, it never paid off, and it was always painful. Still, every now and again some wannabe tough guy trying to make his rep, or a disgruntled target of an investigation who didn’t know any better, took a run at her. Well, it had been awhile, so time to renew the lesson, she supposed…
Downstairs, Jane found the door to her second floor office forced open, the metal of its knob and lock plate crumpled and twisted, the wood splintered, and most irritating of all, the glass panel with “Valentine Investigations” in gold letters on it cracked. Damnit, she loved that door, and the glass was expensive to replace! Gun drawn, she slipped quietly into the reception area.
While the Cloak of Night couldn’t lend her most of its powers when in the form of mundane clothes, a few remained active, including the ability to see in almost total darkness. Which meant she didn’t need to flip on the lights to see Zeke’s desk had been ransacked, drawers pulled open and the contents scattered round. The door to the corridor that lead to the break room and her own personal office had also been forced open, and she followed the trail of destruction.
She had designed the long corridor very specifically to make sure it was difficult for anyone to approach without alerting her — a number of carefully placed boards were designed to squeak, loudly, when trod upon. Placed such that it was almost impossible for even a stealthy person to miss them, there were also a few equally carefully paced boards that were rock solid. These allowed Jane to approach her office in complete silence.
She could see by the feed from the security cameras, playing on her watch, that the tall, shadowy figure was at her stand-up safe, just to the left of the main door. It seemed intent on trying to pry it open… which, combined with the damaged doors, meant she was dealing with an enhanced individual. Better not to go in through the front door then, that would put her right on top of the intruder. Jane retreated back down the hall, through reception, and into the associates’ office. From there she passed through the conference room to the door at the far end of her office.
Cracking it open slightly she peered in, just in time to see the intruder finally manage to wrench the safe’s door partially open. Goddamnit, that thing was expensive – time to put a stop to this. Artemis slipped into the room, and flipped the light switch…
The figure at the other end of the room jerked around with a high-pitched shriek as the lights flared, jumping back from the safe. The floppy designer hat she wore slipped from her head and spiraled to the floor… revealing a woman who seemed to be made of living gold! Skin, hair, nails, even her eyes, glinted and gleamed in the light. Most of her body was covered by a very fashionable Vera Wang trench coat, belted at the waist. But her hands were bare, as were her legs from below the knee to her feet — which appeared to be clad in black and gray low-heeled Jimmy Choos. Her face was half covered by an enormous pair of Isabel Marant sunglasses.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Jane said loudly, her gun aimed steadily at the strange woman. Not likely that the gun was much of a threat, if she was really made of organic metal… of course, if her organic metal really was a kind of gold, that was one of the softest metals.
Always look on the bright side, Jane, she thought, with a mental shake of her head.
“Valentine!” The golden woman hissed. “Give me the flash drive! We — I know she gave it to you! Just hand it over an no one needs to get hurt.”
“Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if you don’t put your hands up and get on your knees, you’re going to be the one to get hurt. Do it. NOW!”
For a moment Jane almost thought the other woman was going to comply. But then she seemed to remember that she was made of metal. She began stalking toward Jane, a slow grin spreading across her gleaming metal face. “Old lady, you’re gonna be the one hurting tonight!”
It was hard to tell with the shifting light on the metallic form, but something about how she moved, and especially about the way she spoke, made Jane feel she was dealing with a very young woman… mid-twenties at the oldest, she thought. Maybe late teens?
“Old lady?” Jane laughed as the intruder tossed one of the heavy guest chairs in front of her desk aside like it was made of foam. “You’re the one who looks like a Golden Girl, honey.”
With that, she slammed her gun into its holster and leaped forward, taking the other woman completely by surprise. Jane had to be careful – it was widely known that Jane Valentine was a skilled martial artist, but she couldn’t use too much of her super strength without risking her secret identity. Still, if the girl was as young as she seemed, she might not have much in the way of fighting skills…
She managed to close and grapple with the Golden Girl, but the metallic form was just as slick as she’d feared. Before she could consolidate her hold Jane had slid halfway around her opponent, who made a twist and managed to shed her completely. Jane tuned her fall into a rolling spin and ended up on the far side of the woman. She was very annoyed now.
The second chair went flying as Golden Girl lunged forward, and this time Jane was ready for the slippery surface. She managed to get the taller woman (she must be at least 6’ 2” Jane calculated) into a head lock, and she made it stick. She didn’t know if the other woman needed to breathe in this form, and seriously doubted there was blood pumping beneath that golden exterior, but nonetheless she was immobilized, at least for the moment.
“Listen to me,” Jane said patiently as her prisoner struggled to break the hold. She was strong, but without leverage she couldn’t bring it to bear, and she was stuck. She eventually realized this, and calmed down somewhat. “Listen, I’m not sure what you think you’re doing, but let’s sit down and talk it out. Otherwise we can just sit here like this until the police arrive.”
The mention of the police seemed to panic the girl, at least momentarily, and after a few seconds she agreed to explain herself. Jane cautiously released her hold, and they stepped away form one another warily. But the metallic girl bent down and righted one of the overturned armchairs, and then sat down in it. Jane did the same with the second chair.
“Look, we know you’re working together,” the girl began without preamble, “and we know you must have the stolen information – that she left the flash drive with you. I’m sorry about all this,” her hand wave took in the damaged office. “Just let me have it, and I’ll be on my way with no more trouble.”
“Look, I still don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” Jane sighed. “Spell it out for me. With whom do you think I’m working, and what information is on this flash drive you want so badly?”
“Amanda Parsons, of course,” Golden Girl said. It was hard to be certain with all that gleaming metal, but Artemis had the distinct impression of rolling eyes. “We know she wanted to be a whistle blower, and that she stole information she thought could bring down the — that is, could take down VTS.”
“Ah,” Jane said, sudden enlightenment filling her face. “So you work for VTS, then!”
“What?!” The girl sat up, alarmed, hands gripping the chair arms so tightly the leather squeaked. “No! I’m not — that is, I work for, um… the EPA! I’m an EPA special agent! Listen, we know Parsons had dirt on VTS, and that she wanted to bring the company down. She was gonna bring us the information, but she disappeared before she could do it. We need to get hold of it before VTS and its goons do… yeah, which is why I risked this raid tonight. I know it’s not really legit, but we figured she must’ve given the information to you…”
It took all of her 154 years of hard-earned control for Jane not to laugh out loud. The girl was a terrible liar, and even if she wan’t trying to make it all up as she went along, she’d probably still not be very good at it. But how to handle this…
“OK, I do know about Amanda Parsons,” she said, careful that no trace of humor showed in her voice. “But I was hired to find her AFTER she went missing. I don’t know anything about what information she might’ve had on her employer. I’m afraid the… EPA has been given some misinformation. And just to show you I’m serious, I’ll let you take look in my safe… you won’t find any flash drives, I promise.”
The door of the safe was badly damaged, and it took several tries before Jane was able to get the combination to work. Even then it took a surreptitious yank with her own super strength to get the door all the way open. The younger woman peered suspiciously into the vault, but it was quickly obvious there was no flash drive, not even a CD or Blu-ray, nothing but papers and some money.
“OK, I guess there’s nothing in your office,” the girl finally admitted. “But don’t you live in this building, too? I’m going to need to search your apartment.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen, Golden Girl,” Jane said, reaching for her gun. But before she had it half out, a golden fist flashed out and hit her in the solar plexus. She flew backward several meters to crash into the file cabinets near the door, and then slumped to the floor, her senses reeling as she struggled to breathe.
Damnit woman, you should’ve been ready for that. That’s what you get for not taking this bitch seriously. She may be young, and not very bright, but she is extremely strong.
“And stop calling me Golden Girl,” the golden girl whined as she stalked toward Jane, hands reaching to grab her. “My name is Golden Childe!”
Jane knew what she had to do, but her plan was almost sidelined by a sudden urge to laugh. The girl actually pronounced the “e” at the end of Childe… “Child-eh.” But she was already recovered from the hit she’d taken, and when the metallic girl grabbed her by her shirt and began to pull her up, Jane’s feet came up suddenly, and she used the momentum of the lift to slam both feet into Golden Childe’s stomach with all her strength — secret identify be damned!
Golden Childe flew backward and through one of the three large windows overlooking Cecile Street. Fortunately not the center window, with the agency name painted on the glass. At least she wouldn’t have to replace that. There was an odd sound (metal hitting concrete she supposed), but by the time Jane got to the shattered window to peer down into the street, the woman was already beginning to move, staggering to her feet. Her expensive trench coat was somewhat the worse for wear, but she seemed to be shaking off the two story fall all too quickly.
Jane stepped back into the shadows, and allowed her costume to form around her, her hair darkening from red to black. She shadow-walked to the roof of Catherine’s Cafe, next door. From there she could make it look like Artemis had just happened by… and to add verisimilitude to the ruse, she threw her voice, a skill she’d picked up in the early years of the 20th Century, in Chicago. So it seemed to the villain that Jane Valentine called for help from the shadows of her office… and that Artemis answered, from the roof of the building next door.
She leapt down on the golden woman just as she finally regained her feet, and this time she didn’t have to hold back on her strength. Before she could even get a grip on her, however, Golden Childe swept one foot up in the kind of flashy, stupid, sidewise martial arts kick they use in the movies; the kind you almost never use in real life because they leave you unbalanced and vulnerable, and seldom work…
Artemis took the foot in her gut and doubled over with an explosive burst of air from her lungs. She flew backwards three meters and crashed through the glass wall of Catherine’s Cafe, smashing two tables to flinders and scattering a dozen customers. By the time she managed to pull herself together again, apologizing profusely to everyone around her and making sure no one was seriously injured, Golden Childe was gone. But she couldn’t have gone far…
Cursing a blue streak under her breath and flicking bits of food from her costume, Artemis ducked into the shadows of the closed bakery next door and shadow-walked to the roof of her building. Peering over the edge, she saw Golden Childe almost two blocks away up Barry Street – in fact, she was almost even with the alley Jane herself had appeared in earlier that evening. She shadow-walked to the roof of one of the buildings over the alley, and saw her target turning the corner.
Two shadow-walks later Artemis saw the golden villain climb into a small, sporty car… a Miata? Whatever it was, it seemed uncomfortably small and cramped for the metallic Amazon. Still, she started it up and pulled out, to roar up the street. Artemis had no trouble following from the shadows of the rooftops, teleporting just ahead of the car, watching its travel, then jumping ahead of it agin. In this way she followed it west and into the blue-collar suburb of Warrenton.
A mixture of residential and light industrial/commercial zoning, it seemed a strange place for the obviously high-end young woman to be going. The warehouse she parked in font of seemed an even more unlikely destination, yet it was into the apparently abandoned building that she disappeared. Artemis considered shadowing-walking into the place, but if it was some kind of secret lair, who knew what hidden security it might have.
In the old days, she’d have risked it, of course. But now he had a team behind her, with skills and talents she lacked. John, for instance, could easily scan for electronic security, and probably even disable any such from a distance. Better to wait, then, and bring the whole team in… and if, as she now suspected, this was a secret facility for the illicit activities of VTS, the new warrant would even cover it. Not that she didn’t already have probable cause, of course, but it’s still nice when your ass is covered…
Jane woke at 05:59, and reached over to turn off the alarm clock before it could ring at 06:00. As she slipped into her work-out clothes, she idly wondered if the poor clock ever resented never being allowed to fulfill its primary function – in the nine years she’d owned this particular one, it had never been allowed to ring. Or buzz, or whatever. In truth, she wasn’t really sure what its alarm sounded like. She sometimes wondered why she even bothered setting it, but if her long life had taught her anything, it was that the one time you didn’t take a precaution was the one time you would really need it.
Stepping onto the tatami mat that took up much of her bedroom/personal dojo, she smiled at the whimsical thought, then blanked her mind to focus on the flow of today’s katas. Or more accurately hyung, since today she was practicing Tang Soo Do, one of the more esoteric Korean martial arts traditions. For the next hour she lost herself in a steady rhythm of kicks, punches, and strikes, until her muscles were nicely warmed up and she was covered in a light sheen of sweat.
Wiping her face and dropping the towel around her neck, she moved from her dojo/bedroom to her sybaritic master bath. The next half-hour was spent soaking in luxuriously hot (and gloriously bubble-infused) water, sipping iced cucumber water and reading from her battered copy of The Art of War. She’d memorized Sun Tzu long ago, of course, but she found its ancient wisdom constantly rewarded re-readings. Today she found herself focusing on chapter three, Attack by Stratagem, which defined the source of true strength as unity, not size. Particularly relevant, actually, given her current association with the Vanguard.
After reluctantly finishing her bath (she strictly limited herself to 30 minutes weekday mornings, or she’d spend half her day soaking), she dressed and fixed herself breakfast – today a gruyere and prosciutto omelet, a ripe Anjou pear, and a single cup of fair trade Costa Rican coffee. She took the latter with her, and by 08:00 she was seated behind her desk in her office downstairs. It being Saturday, there’d sadly been no exchange of the usual morning pleasantries with her receptionist Zeke… a pity, as he was not only easy on the eyes, but sharp-witted as well.
Valentine Investigations had several relatively minor cases going at the moment, and an hour of reading reports from her operatives showed them all well in hand. Which allowed her to turn her attention to the one case she was pursuing personally – a missing persons case involving an employee of Volksmacht Technology Solutions, one Amanda Parsons. It was a potentially volatile case, as the missing woman’s older sister, Elizabeth Meyer, was convinced the young woman was ready to become a corporate whistle-blower following the death last week of her fiancé, Dwayne Francisco, in what VTS was calling an “industrial accident.” Unfortunately, Amanda had been cagey with details before vanishing, so her sister couldn’t provide details. Still, her disappearance could implicate several mid-level executives, although Jane would love to find evidence to move her target further up the food chain. She doubts that CEO Ernst Holloran is stupid enough to do anything incriminating himself, of course… but one can dream.
Another hour and a half of pouring over her notes, and Jane was ready to head over to the Eastide headquarters of Volksmacht and engage in a little stealthy sleuthing. But as she was slipping the files back into their folders, an unexpected sound made her freeze, her eyes widening in surprise. The city’s air raid sirens had begun to wail! The loudest one was the siren atop the Alden Morse Convention Center, just a few blocks away, but she could hear the rising and falling blare of other sirens across the city taking up the alarm.
For a moment she thought it was the tsunami warning, but quickly realized the pattern was wrong… no, this was the warning for – Artemis paled, her costume and cloak instinctively forming around her as she realized what was coming…
————————
Chuck woke with a low groan, bleary eyes focused on the ceiling. His mouth tasted like a mash-up of a week-old habanero pork burrito and the outside of his bicycle tire after a Cyclocross Crusade race… through a monkey house. On the bright side, he decided his headache wasn’t nearly as bad as it might’ve been, given all the rum & cokes he’d downed last night… maybe because of all the joints they’d gone through as well? Ever since legalization the quality of pot had really increased… along with the strength. Could Mary Jane take the edge off a hang-over? Kyle would probably know.
He could just change into Chilz, of course. Give it a minute, then change back into regular old Chuck – the transformation always got rid of whatever was ailing him, from hangovers to broken wrists. Well, except for viruses, for some reason. Anyhow, it somehow seemed like cheating, especially on his weekend off. Besides, he’d been resisting his friends’ calls for him to “show us the ice dude, man” since they’d all arrived yesterday afternoon. Also, the rental house bed probably couldn’t take a half ton of ice… although it held up OK last night when he and…
“Oh shit.”
The strangled curse was quiet, and as Chuck slowly turned his head to the right he was grateful to see that he hadn’t awakened his companion. Tori Andreas was still asleep, tangled up adorably in the sheets and wearing just his Lynyrd Skynyrd Street Survivors Tour ’77 t-shirt, mouth slightly open, gently snoring. Twenty-one year old Tori, his former employee at Salt & Straw, who’d had a crush on him since she was 17 — before he’d become Chilz. Thirteen-years-younger-than-him Tori. Shit.
How did this happen?
When Scion and Artemis had announced last Monday that most of the team was being forced to take a long weekend off, the phone call on Tuesday had seemed almost like fate. Chad and Tracey, his old roommates, had been bugging him for months to hangout with them, and he’d been evading. But now they’d rented a house on the beach in Lincoln City for a week, they’d invited a few other mutual friends, and he’d realized there was really no reason for him not to join them, at least for the weekend.
He hadn’t realized, until after he’d arrived Friday afternoon, that amongst those mutual friends were a few of his old employees… including Tori. He’d known about her crush back in the day, of course, but he’d scrupulously avoided doing anything to encourage it — he was no cradle-robber. It had been Tori though, leading the other employees, that had somehow convinced Scion to look for him in the rubble of their store in the aftermath of the Incident.
He’d been grateful, of course, and they’d seen each other a few times in the weeks after the rescue. But in the chaos of forming the Vanguard and fighting imminent threats to the city it had been easy enough to let her down gently. The last time he’d seen her had been at her high school graduation in ’17. She’d specifically invited him, and he hadn’t felt he could turn her down. As it turned out, it seemed she was over her crush and the day had gone smoothly. He hadn’t seen her since… until yesterday.
Maybe he should’ve been more wary, but it seemed like things were going fine. Chad and Tracey were apparently still the low-key assholes they’d always been, and at first were going on about Chilz and wanting to see him in action. But most of the others, especially Tori, were much more laid back and several of them finally told the twins to shut the fuck up about it. After that the evening had been much more fun… maybe a bit too much fun, in retrospect?
His memory was a bit hazy, but he definitely remembered being on the slider couch out on the deck, overlooking the beach and having a very intense conversation with Tori… they’d talked about her college classes, he knew… she was majoring in sports medicine… and they’d come around naturally to some of his experiences with the Vanguard… she’d asked some pretty smart questions, he remembered…
He still wasn’t quite sure how they’d ended up in his bed, although what happened once they had was coming back to him, thankfully. Jeeze, he really didn’t want to be the kind of asshole who forgot that sort of thing, however drunk an/or stoned he — they —had been! And as the memories came back, so did something else —
“Mmmm, it’s good to see you’re up,” a sleepy yet very sultry voice said beside him. “I was worried I’d worn out your poor, elderly body last night.”
Chuck turned red and whipped the sheet over himself. “Tori! Listen, about last night… I, um, I hope I didn’t, you know… I mean, the difference—”
She slugged him in the arm, hard. “I warned you last night, Chuck, if you bring up our age difference one more time I was going to slug you! I told you then, and I’ll repeat it now – I’m all grown up, you’re not my first, and I have no romantic delusions about us. I got over my crush on you a long time ago, but I’ve never stopped liking you… so, last night was just a good time between friends. I thought you understood that, so don’t make it weird this morning.”
“Um, yes, that is all coming back to me, Tori,” Chuck admitted. “I may have overdone it a bit last night, it’s been awhile since I’ve really partied like that. But I am remembering what we talked about… between the passionate kisses and the groping… and I can’t say it wasn’t wonderful! Sorry if I’ve made it weird…”
“Nah, we’re good,” Tori laughed, sitting up and stretching. “Smells like at least one of the others is up, Gary at a guess, given the smell of bacon and coffee. But I think we have time for another go… if you’re up for it, of course, old man.”
“Oh, I’ll show you ‘old’ you saucy co-ed,” Chuck growled, reaching for her…
They’d fallen asleep again, after, but the sound of emergency sirens brought them both awake with a start. Chuck glanced at the clock next to the bed – it was 10:32.
“Chuck, what is it?” Tori asked groggily. “Is it a tsunami warning?”
It was Chilz who answered her.
“No. It’s a lot worse. Listen, get the others up, and all of you get out of here, FAST! Head down the coast first, then inland… get away from built-up areas as quickly as you can.” He picked up his watch from the night stand and carefully pressed the red, recessed button on the side.
“Why – oh!” Tori’s eyes widened. She finally recognized the sirens. “Oh Jesus, its—“ but Chilz had already vanished through a shimmering silver portal, which quickly closed behind him.
————————
Jonny had spent a very pleasant Friday night at Kyle’s place, enjoying a wide-ranging discussion that, four years ago, he’d never have imagined he could have. Or (mostly) understand. They had started with questions Jonny had about the importance of non-locality in current quantum mechanical theory. Kyle had explained, using everything from optimal quantum strategies for XOR games, which used the uncertainty principle alone, to entanglement-based steering of physical states at a distance, and how both play a fundamental role in determining optimal quantum strategies for non-local “games.”
From there it had devolved into a debate about whether Einstein’s reputation concerning his opinions on quantum mechanics was unfair or not (they both thought it was), and wild speculation on whether or not he’d had a “lover’s quarrel” with Podolsky and Rosen over the concept of spooky action at a distance and wormholes.
“Maybe Artemis would know,” Jonny had half-jokingly suggested, which had gotten a rare belly laugh from his friend.
“It does seem like she’s known everyone who was anyone in the last century,” Kyle had agreed. “Didn’t she mention something about Einstein and the Science Trust just last month?”
After a pause for Indian take-away and gin-and-tonics, they’d moved on to the problems Kyle was facing in his on-going efforts to open his portals into specific parallel realities. Jonny didn’t fully understand the issue of connectedness and its relationship to high-energy systems, nor how either related to cross-dimensional teleportation, but he at least could lend a sympathetic ear and enjoy the KJap tunes Kyle played in the background.
They ended the evening with an intensely silent viewing of Akira Kurosawa’sRashomon. The Jidaigeki drama was a favorite of both friends, and they’d watched it enough times, both separately and together, to have no need for further discussion that night.
Kyle had offered to portal Jonny home or to put him up in his spare bedroom, and Jonny had chosen the latter. His friend was able to open his portals much more efficiently these days, compared to four years ago, but he knew it was still somewhat tiring. Besides, he liked Kyle’s condo – more than JJ’s, if he was honest. While the Astor penthouse was bigger, very modern (with all that glass), and had that amazing swimming pool, the Steiner penthouse felt warmer and more intimate, somehow. To Jonny it just seemed homey.
In the morning, Kyle and Jonny took breakfast together on the terrace before starting their separate days. Pouring himself a second cup of coffee, Jonny grinned as he snagged the last popover from the basket between them.
“So, I’m guessing you’re going to spend most of your weekend with Nora, yeah?” he said, slathering strawberry jam on the warm, airy pastry. “Anything you want to talk about there?”
“Not especially,” Kyle said, smiling as he polished off the last of his eggs Benedict and wiped his mouth. “How about you? What’s on your agenda this fine late summer day?”
“Well, I’m going to take another run at cracking the local Yakuza gumi, and finally proving that their Oyabun is Takazumi Kaneda. We all know he’s the Steel Shogun, but he’s just so damn good at insulating himself… anyway, there’s a new exhibit at the Fine Arts Museum, in the Asian wing, and I’ve heard rumors that the Steel Shogun is particularly interested in the subject matter… and might have designs on the exhibit. There’ve been some other rumors, too, that I want to follow up on…”
“Ah, yes, an exhibit you’re rather interested in yourself, if I recall,” Kyle said. “Netsuke, those charming little amulet adornments, right? Like the one your mother gave you on your last birthday before—” Kyle cut himself off and began clearing the table.
“My last birthday before she died, yes.” Jonny finished for him, and began picking up plates as well. “It’s been eight years, I’m OK. But yes, I do love netsuke, and it’ll be nice to see such a variety. It’s not like I can carry my own any more, like I used to, since I might need to go hot at any time.”
He sighed and set his dishes into the sink in the kitchen. Today was the day Kyle’s cleaning service came in, so they didn’t need to worry about the cleaning up.
“Anyway, after the museum, assuming I don’t stumble across any leads on those odd rumors about the Steel Shogun, I plan to check out a new food cart I’ve been hearing about – SacraDelicious. I hear the Cheeses Crisp toasted cheese sandwich is amazing! But the whole menu sounds good, so who knows – maybe I’ll end up with the Adams’s BBQ Ribs, or the Lamb of God Stew.”
“Yeah, Nora was telling me about that place just the other day,” Kyle chuckled. “She enjoyed the Dharma Burger… said that scared cow is the beefiest! But didn’t I hear there was some controversy about one of their offerings…?”
“Oh, more than one,” Jonny said with a wide grin. “They seem to be an equal-opportunity offender, which I guess could only work in a city as minimally religious as Astoria. But the one you’re thinking of is probably the Falafel Burrito (that-most-definitely-does-not-have-an-image-of-the-prophet-Mohammed-burned-onto-the-inside-of-the-tortilla).
“Maybe, but I think Nora said it was some kind of meat-lover’s sandwich… the Tran-Sub-Sandwich-ation maybe? Well, whichever, I’m glad you’re planning something fun Jonny. This is supposed to be time off, after all. OK, I’m going to be late to meet Nora if I don’t get going — you can let yourself out.”
With that he opened a quantum tunnel and stepped through…
An hour later, Jonny was wandering the netsuke displays at the Astoria Fine Art Museum, and marveling at the delicate artistry and playful whimsy of the small pieces, when the city’s emergency sirens began to wail. It only took the first run of the pattern to recognize what they were warning about, of what was coming. His heart began to race… this could be very bad, but he had to admit, he’d dreamed about this possibility almost since the day he’d gained his powers…
————————
Cooper had spent the morning on the river with the First Nations youth group he had begun sponsoring this year. Strangely, since becoming the Magus Prime of Earth a little over a year ago, he seemed to have more time for activities beyond fighting bad guys and protecting the world from supernatural threats. Maybe something to do with the way time ran inside the Sanctum Primus?
In any case, he still hoped to convince the Elders of his extra-dimensional home island to begin accepting members of other Native tribes, not just the Haida, for training as shamen… and shawomen. They hadn’t seemed especially enthusiastic when he’d first mentioned it after delivering the first Haida candidates last year – but then they hadn’t been too thrilled about his insistence that they accept women, either, and had ended up agreeing to that in the end.
Well, he was the First Sorcerer now, savior of his people, freeing them from the grip of Varina’s dark netherworlds, restoring their home to its rightful place… he was also more powerful than the whole lot of old codgers who ruled Sgang Gwaay Llanagaay combined. All of which commanded respect from the Elders, of course, if not any great love these days.
A part of him regretted how much he’d grown beyond the provincial view (there was really no other way to put it) of his people, his family, and the men who’d trained him and given him such great responsibility. But he’d experienced too much of the larger world, and the infinite universe it was a part of, to ever go back to one isolated pocket dimension. And his new responsibilities were too vast to allow it, even if he’d wanted to. The truth was, he thought of himself more and more as Cooper Ravenwing, and Totem, than he did Kúng.
There were at least two youths in his group today that he sensed might hold potential to excel at the mystic arts. They had led the group effort to carve the beautiful longboat canoe that had sliced through the water at dawn this morning, and it had been their subtle, unconscious infusion of spirit animus which made the vessel seem almost alive. He was pretty certain they were going to win the canoeing competition next weekend during the First Peoples Festival.
After they’d finished the trial runs, and enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the Black Bear Restaurant near the Marina, Cooper had bid his proteges a good morning and headed off to meet Meg. He’d offered to treat her to breakfast with the group, but she wasn’t a big breakfast person – some toast, maybe some fruit, and a decent cup of coffee was her usual speed.
“And we’re going to be getting a workout,” she’d said last night, before they’d parted for the evening – he’d had artifice work to do that required a certain stellar alignment in the small hours. “So don’t stuff yourself on bacon and flap jacks, buster!”
She had somehow talked him into letting her teach him how to rollerblade, an activity he had managed to avoid for years. Until now. So it was that this beautiful late summer morning saw the Magus Prime, mortal focus of magic on Earth, foremost practitioner of the mystic arts in the world, on the Bayside Esplanade, wobbling along on inline skates and clutching his girlfriend’s arm to keep from falling on his ass. He was grateful he’d had the foresight to cast a Spell of Anonymity over the two of them, even if he’d promised her not to use any other magic during the lessons.
“You’re doing fine, darling,” she assured him. “This is good for you, really — physical co-ordination can only help your spell casting, right? Look, you’re doing much better than that guy.”
“Meg, that ‘guy’ is a six year old boy,” Cooper growled. “And anyway, I am most certainly not doing better than him!” He glared as the child in question zipped between them and zoomed off down the esplanade.
Then the sirens went off. Cooper was almost grateful for the interruption, until the look on Meg’s face registered — she’d recognized the pattern before he did.
“Dear God, which one do you think it is?” she asked, as he waved a hand, changing his clothes into the garb and flowing cape of the Magus Prime. She was already pulling off her skates and fumbling in her backpack for her sneakers.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “You’re going back to the Sanctum, where you’ll be sa—“
“Oh bullshit! We’ve been over this, Coo- Totem. I’m a reporter, and this may be one of the biggest stories in years. Literally! I know you can’t do your job and worry about protecting me at the same time, I understand that — but I have a job to do too. And the whole reason you gave me this amulet” she held up the carved wood and ivory disc on its silver chain hung around her neck “was to protect me in exactly this sort of situation.”
“Fine,” he snapped, gesturing again with one hand. A golden, glowing portal opened in the air before them. “We don’t have time to argue, and we both know you’ll do what you want, whatever I say.”
“It’s why you love me, honey.”
“Indeed it is,” he agreed with a snort and a brief smile. “But promise me you’ll use the amulet and retreat back to the Sanctum at the first sign of danger, Meg.”
“I promise” she said, rather unconvincingly he thought. He sighed, and together they stepped through the shimmering gate…
————————
JJ knew he should be doing something “fun” on this beautiful Saturday morning — after all, he’d been the one to decree that the bulk of the team take a mandatory long weekend — but there was just too much damn work to do. And really, it had been Jane who’d first brought up the idea, although he’d seen the need for it immediately. It had been a tough year for the team, and frankly they deserved more than just a long weekend.
Unfortunately, super-crime never sleeps, at least not for long, so having the whole team down at the same time just wasn’t practical. They really needed to take another serious look at deepening their roster. Unfortunately, Prometheus showed no inclination to return from Europe — JJ hadn’t even heard from him in months, actually — and Phantom Ace remained on-again-off-again. Paragon would likely jump at the chance to join, of course, which was a start.
Still, it wasn’t like he couldn’t take a few days off… Penny Monet was doing a tremendous job running the day-to-day aspects of Apergy Systems International since he’d promoted her to VP of Operations. His own research and development time had actually increased since he’d taken up running the Vanguard, thanks in large part to his synergy in working with Kyle, Alváro, and the Hunter. The truth was, he just liked tinkering. He always had, since he was a kid in a remote outpost of Atlantis.
It wasn’t like he was seeing anyone these days, either. A situation he could hardly blame on either of his jobs – it wasn’t like he’d been big on dating even before the Incident. Honestly, people were a lot of trouble, even the ones he liked (and he did like his friends, very much); technology was just so much simpler. Which is why he was in his main lab today, working on another weapons system he might integrate into his armor. He had made a concession to the day, however – the floor-to-ceiling windows were fully depolarized to give him spectacular views of the river and the hills and mountains of Washington State beyond.
His lab was, of course, completely soundproofed, so when the city’s emergency sirens went off at 10:32 he failed to hear them. But within seconds his own internal security systems began their own klaxon alert as information from a dozen sources, government and private, began pouring in. Swiping the schematics he’d been working on from the main screen, his eyes darted down the scrolling information feed… and grew wide as he saw what was coming…
With a thought his quasi-living armor began to flow across his body, and as the helmet finished solidifying he flicked on comms with an eye twitch. Quanta was the first one to contact, they’d need him to bring the group together… assuming everyone had the sense to… yes, there was Chilz’ geo-locator signal…
“Quanta, Scion… as I’m sure you know already, we have a very big problem heading our way…”
————————
Nora was feeding peanuts to the elephants at the Astoria Zoo, and Kyle was feeling deeply contented as he watched her. She loved the zoo, and most especially the elephants — her Lakehaven apartment was full of them in the form of sculptures, paintings, needlepoint, and half-a-dozen other art modes. A great many of which he’d given her, once he’d learned of her obsession, but not anywhere near all of them. He did restrain his impulse to buy her every elephant themed gee-gaw he came across… usually. Once her parole was over and she could travel, he planned to take her to Africa to see the beasts in their true glory.
The last of the peanuts were gone, and with a fond last glance Nora turned her attention back to her… boyfriend. It was still a bit strange to think of Kyle like that, but strange in a good way. Nine months ago, she couldn’t have imagined feeling this way about anyone, much less the man who’d arrested her. More than once. Even two moths ago she’d been waffling on what she was really feeling, about a lot of things. But then that damn extra-dimensional imp had stuck his propellor beanie into things…
Aside from getting to really experience what someone with similar, if much greater, powers to her own could do (and how unpleasant it was to be on the receiving end of that shit), the best thing to come out of it was the proof that Kyle Steiner really did trust and believe in her. Even… she still shied away a bit at the thought… loved her. When it had looked like she might have had another psychotic break, certainly the most likely explanation for that mess at the bank, he hadn’t hesitated when she’d denied it. His teammates might not have been entirely convinced at first, but Kyle was, and had acted accordingly.
That broke a dam in her mind somewhere, and therapy in the following weeks had been surprisingly productive. She hadn’t realized quite how much she was still holding back, even unconsciously, and it felt good to really clean things out, down to the bottom. Hard, but good. And her relationship with Kyle had suddenly seemed to jump into high gear after that — which had surprised him a bit at first she thought. But he’d quickly, and enthusiastically, gotten onboard once he was sure she was serious.
And three weeks ago they’d slept together for the first time.
She’d been nervous as hell… not that he was her first, of course, but most of her previous experiences in that area had not been… great. To say the least. But she wanted it with Kyle, and she knew he wanted it with her, however much he restrained himself. It wasn’t until afterward, in the warm afterglow of a kind of sex she’d never known was even possible outside of stupid romance novels, that she’d realized he’d been at least as apprehensive as her. Maybe more.
But it had worked out so spectacularly well it still left her breathless. Not that she let on about that to him, of course. Oh, he knew she had enjoyed it, sure; but he had been quite annoyingly smug enough afterward that she didn’t want to risk his head exploding from self-satisfaction. And while every time since hadn’t been quite the revelation of that first time, they’d all been immeasurably better than with any previous lover. Again, no need to tell Kyle that, not yet anyway…
“So, what now?” she asked as they strolled away from the elephant enclosure.
“Well, I was thinking we might go—“
The sudden wail of air raid sirens drowned out his words, and Nora looked up at the cloudless blue sky. No wait… “Is that the signal for a tsunami?” she yelled over the rising and falling pulses of sound.
“No!” Kyle’s face had gone pale. “It’s the warning for an imminent kaiju attack!”
“Oh my god, which one… can you tell from the sirens?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I’ll have to contact—” just then his fancy watch began beeping, at a pitch that actually cut through the sirens. People were streaming towards the zoos exits, concerned but not yet panicked. Nora hoped that state would continue.
“Quanta, Scion… as I’m sure you know already, we have a very big problem heading our way…”
“Yes, I’m at the zoo, with Nora. John, which one is it? What are we facing?”
“Two minutes ago, the Forty Fathoms Super Max, six miles off the coast, reported sensor readings and visual confirmation… they estimate landfall in nine minutes, just south of the mouth of the Columbia.
The Star Wind was approaching the final set of micro-jumps that would bring them fully into the gravity well of the star Erigayn, at the end of a long six days. And not a minute too soon was the Vanguard’s heartfelt consensus.
When they’d left a sweltering Astoria behind, even the usually cool and collected Artemis had been eager for the adventure. With the exception of that short, tragic visit to Halicon on its final day, none of them had been to another planet before, nor traveled by starship.
The first three days had lived up to expectations. The Star Wind was a beautiful ship, and with the lower deck essentially empty (the Ambassador had had the various modular units of his private suite removed – luxury bedrooms, dining room, wine cellar, etc.), they were able to turn off the artificial gravity and use the large space for practicing moving and fighting in zero-g.
The Star Wind flight deck.
Surprisingly, Scion learned that he was unable to fly, being outside the electromagnetic field of a planet; Quanta, on the other hand, actually found flying easier in micro-gravity… and by being outside of a planetary gravity well, he suspected. The Blue Flame was basically unaffected, beyond a slight increase in maneuverability, as was Totem’sCloak of Levitation.
The first six hours out from Earth, traveling to the recently re-opened Solar Stargate in the Asteroid Belt, had gone by in an exhilarating rush; the jump through the Gate itself had been… anticlimactic — one bit of interplanetary space lookes much like any other. But Epsilon Eridani, the first stop on their itinerary, quickly became more interesting.
At 10.5 light years from Sol, the K0 star system was the closest Union-controlled system with a star gate. With two, in fact, and the second one was in a distant orbit around the massive, ringed Jovian planet humans had named Aegir. A massive space complex hung near the Aegir Gate, the hub of all activity in the system, since there were no habitable planets available for settlement.
“Hey, Ilandra, why such a big station for a system without livable planets?” Jonny asked the ship’s AI system. “Isn’t this a bit of a backwater for the Union?”
“In the past, yes, Jonny” the lovely contralto voice replied. Jonny was half in love with that voice, and had insisted she (there was no way not to think of her as “she”) call him Jonny, not Mr. Osaka. “But with the events of the past three Solar years, its importance has increased significantly; not least for its connection to your own world. With the loss of so many systems to the Consensus and the Imperium, Earth and her meta-human heroes have become a symbolic hope for many in the Union. Aegir Gateway Station has been greatly expanded in the last year for that reason.”
“Any chance we can have a layover at the station? I’ll bet it’s a fascinating place…” Jonny had wheedled.
“Perhaps on the way home,” Artemis said firmly. “Time may be of the essence on this mission, and we need to keep our eye on the ball.”
They made the jump to the next system an hour later. In all, it took 64 hours to make jumps through 9 different star systems, averaging seven hours in each system as they travelled between gates, leaving little time for sightseeing. Nonetheless, there were enough dazzling vistas of stars, nebulae and the occasional planet or massive space station to keep things interesting.
That changed after their last gate jump, into the Merikani System, the closest Union-controlled system to Erigayn and itself a bit of a backwater. From there they had to travel strictly via stutter-warp drive, across 30 light years of interstellar void. Very boring, monotonous interstellar void. Three long days of very boring, very monotonous, very void.
Boredom and close quarters began to take a toll fairly quickly, for some more than others. Artemis tended to spend her time either meditating or practicing her combat forms in varying levels of gravity, from zero-g to twice Earth-standard, often joined by Totem. JJ spent considerable time studying with Ilandra and learning the basics of interstellar piloting and astrography, while Quanta absorbed a great deal from her about the physics of star gates and the stutter-warp drives – which he then tried to share with anyone who’d listen. Something Jonny and Chuck tried to avoid by playing as many video games as they could, as loud as they could, a vast library of them having been thoughtfully provided by the Ambassador.
“Video games, but he couldn’t leave a comfortable bed… or his wine cellar?” Quanta had groused at one point, defeated in his latest attempt to share the wonders of five-dimensional spatial geometry with the two.
On his own down time, JJ taught Jonny and Chuck a number of card games, and Jonny kept trying to deal from the bottom of the deck – only to be caught every time. Chuck also spent a fair amount of time learning about Unioncommunications systems, and in particular the range of options available on the Star Wind. He had more or less fallen into the role of comms officer for the team, but he’d found he really enjoyed it, and this was certainly a golden opportunity.
“We’re making the final jump to the Erigayn System,” Scion announced over the ship-wide comms. “Once we—“
He was interrupted as a klaxon alarm began blaring, and red emergency lights strobed throughout the ship. A shudder ran through the deck beneath their feet, and the Vanguard stared at one another in surprise – then rushed to join Scion and Artemis on the bridge.
“Shields are at 97%,” Ilandra’s calm voice informed them as they piled up behind the two leaders. “Attack was a plasma burst on our forward port quarter, fired by the larger of the three ships directly ahead.”
“Well, how nice,” Scion muttered, bringing them about to present as narrow a profile as possible to the combatants. “We seem to have arrived in the middle of a space battle.”
In the central view screen a large military-looking ship faced off against two smaller, but very sleek and equally deadly-looking ships, and as they watched the two sides traded another series of energy blasts. Shields flared, and each of the fighters managed to lob another volley at the Star Wind, whose own shields absorbed the energy with only another mild shudder through the frame.
“Shields at 92%,” Ilandra said. “They appear to be more warning shots than actual attempts to disable or destroy.”
“We’ve got an incoming transmission, Captain,” Chuck announced from the comms station, where he’d seated himself when they’d entered the bridge. “Two of them, actually.”
“Interesting. Put them on screen, Mr. Chisholm.” JJ wasn’t above the half-giddy Star Trek feel of the whole situation himself, and allowed himself a small smile at Jonny’s choked-off laugh.
To either side of the main screen two smaller views lit up, showing the commanders, presumably, of the two opposing sides. On the left was a being that looked like nothing so much as a tall, lean, anthropomorphized dog… or maybe a golden-furred jackal. The being on the right screen was no less alien-looking, but instead of a terrestrial dog it appeared to be a distant cousin of the Creature From the Black Lagoon. He (or she, who could tell with fish people?) seemed to be underwater, and a part of JJ’s mind wondered how they managed that in spacecraft, with all the electronics…
First contact with the inhabitants of the Erigayn System
“I am Sky Commander Fer’Tallket, of the Kyrnoka Conclave,” boomed the jackal alien, speaking first, his voice low and gruff, “and I demand your immediate surrender and the return of our property!”
The second alien stepped on their rival’s demand, with a voice several octaves higher, emited from a lip-less mouth, hissing, “You won’t fool me Sky Commander, call off these mercenaries of yours, admit your theft, or suffer the full wrath of the High Engineer!”
“The wrath of your water-logged High Engineer means less than nothing to me, Admiral Serpartes,” the Sky Commander… sneered, Artemis thought, although it was difficult to read the rather immobile expression on the alien face. The fish-person’s face was even less interpretable as they opened their mouth to respond.
“This is the Union vessel Star Wind,” JJ interrupted what promised to be a lengthy, and no doubt fascinating, exchange of insults. “Six days out from Earth, on a mission from the High Chancellor and the Senate.”
Well, ultimately that was true, as the Ambassador would not have allowed them the use of his ship and Union resources without the approval of his superiors… and his was a very short chain of command. Better to lead with a strong, confidant claim, and sort out the details later.
“We are here to investigate the disturbing changes to your sun, and locate a missing agent.” No need to say whose agent Silverstar was just yet. “Power down your weapons, please, and let’s talk.”
It took some doing, and an intimidating soliloquy of thinly veiled threats of dire repercussion from Artemis, but eventually both the Admiral and the Sky Commander agreed to stand down and listen. Not only to the new arrivals, but to one another.
Apparently they’d become embroiled in an old-fashioned standoff after having run into one another while separately investigating recent large-scale thefts and industrial sabotage on their respective home worlds. In recent months such crimes had been repeated all too frequently on all four inhabited worlds of the system and tensions were running very high — apparently everyone thought at least one of their neighbors was responsible.
Both sides in this stand-off had followed scattered signals and partial plasma trails to this spot, and had run into one another. Warning shots had been fired, ultimatums issued, and if not for the timely arrival of the aliens from their barbarous-sounding Earth (which neither of the aliens had ever heard of), they’d likely have been in a full-scale battle by now.
Both sides transmitted the details of the current situation, and the claims of the new arrivals, to their respective governments. The messages took several hours to arrive on their home worlds and for responses to be formulated and returned. Eventually both Admiral Separtes and Sky Commander Fer’Tallket appeared on screen again, this time in a joint communication.
“We have been asked to convey an invitation for you come to the Council Quadrene on Irikand, the neutral moon orbiting our system’s gas giant,” the Admiral said, their face even more unreadable than their counterpart’s.
“The joint planets of Erigayn use this facility as a neutral meeting place to convene and discuss matters of systemwide importance,” the Sky Commander added. “Our leaders are already there, discussing the current crisis, and they wish to determine for themselves the truth of your motives and claims.”
••••••
“Ilandra, what can you tell us about this Irikand place,” Kyle asked as JJ brought them into a standard orbit around the moon. Traffic control had them in a holding pattern, awaiting landing instructions.
“Irikand is the largest of the 17 moons of the gas-giant planet Pharosia, Dr. Steiner, which is itself the eighth and outermost planet in the Erigayn System. Pharosia is also called the Jewel of Erigayn, for reasons that should be obvious.”
Indeed, gazing out the view ports, the giant planet was a glorious sight. Slightly larger than Jupiter, its swirling bands of brilliant, almost garish, colors glowed in a somehow harmonious rainbow of gem-like beauty. It was breathtaking. The moon they were orbiting was… less so. Gray-white, ice-covered, streaked with black striations, it looked particularly inhospitable.
“Irikand is approximately three-quarters the size of your Mars,” Ilandra continued, “very icy, but thanks to a molten iron core it possesses a strong electromagnetic field which helps retain a thin atmosphere. Barely breathable by most oxygen-based respiratory systems, however, and it is roiled by frequent storms. Its surface gravity is approximately 31% of Earth’s, although the Irikand complex itself maintains an artificial gravity of .89 Earth-standard.
“Despite its native inhospitality, the original settlers of the system built a large trading port here — mainly to receive and organize shipments of supplies and additional colonists from out-system, both of which were still coming in during the first few decades of settlement. Irikand’s distant location, relative to the habitable zone, was viewed as a plus, as this kept outsiders far away from their own individual worlds. This reduced the risk of unwelcome “contamination,” while still allowing needed connection with the larger Union.
“In time the port grew into a neutral city where the leaders of the four planets could hold councils to settle disputes and debate issues affecting the entire system. It still retains its status as the port-of-entry for the system as well, and is the system’s main trading center.”
Eventually a landing bay was assigned to them, and JJ made his first solo landing, under the watchful eye of the ships AI systems. They were met by a representative of the fish-like Xi’nix, dressed in a stylish environmental suit which contained the sea water that kept them alive while off of their ocean world home. Speakers on the collar of their fishbowl helmet transmitted and filtered their slightly sibilant voice.
“I am Fahar Synok,” they introduced themself, doing a strange half-bending at the knees and an elaborate gesture with his left hand… presumably a polite greeting of the Xi’nix people. “Forgive the crudity of my welcoming salute, it is terribly difficult to do properly on dry land, but I hope you will accept it in the spirit in which it is intended.
“I have been assigned to be your escort and facilitator during your stay on Irikand, so please, if you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask. Now, quarters have been prepared for you, and I’m sure you must be ready to relax and freshen up before your meeting with the Council Quadrene.”
The provided quarters were large and very comfortable, but no one was inclined to relax much, and when Fahar Synok returned two hours later to take them to the meeting, everyone was ready to go.
The Council Rotunda was a large circular chamber, encircled by half-a-dozen tiers of seats, filled with people of all four species, and a score of immense screens, several of which showed spectacular live views of the swirling gas giant hanging in the sky outside. Underneath a central dome of dim blue light was a large round table, a holoprojector at its center, encircled by a dozens chairs. At the cardinal points the chairs were larger, more comfortable looking, and clearly held the leaders of the four worlds, or at least their representatives.
Council Rotunda on Irikand.
The low murmuring of the crowd suddenly dropped to silence as the six aliens were lead by their guide to a low platform near the central table. One of the leaders at the table rose, a pale female with interesting facial structure that included a crown-like ridge of scalloped cartilage framing her face, and addressed the Vanguard.
“Welcome outsiders, I am Governor Endara of the planet Prokira, and as the current First of the Council I speak today for the residents of the Erigayn System. You have arrived at a dire moment in our short history, and many on this council find the timing of your arrival— coinciding as it does with escalating thefts and violence— suspicious. Despite cautiously favorable initial reports from some of their own. So tell us, gentlebeings, what are your intentions among us in these difficult times?”
Governor Endara of Prokira
“Thank you for gracious welcome, Governor,” Artemis replied, bowing slightly. It had been agreed that she would take the lead, at least initially. “We have come at the request of the Union which, despite the recent turmoil and losses of the EntropyWar, are still concerned about all its member worlds — even those who prefer to remain apart. The changes to your sun have not gone unnoticed, and when another agent was sent to investigate and report, they vanished. We were sent in search of answers, both concerning your sun, the well-being of your people, and the missing agent.”
“As a Tulromite, I wish to see you as hopeful friends,” the Governor said. “But you have arrived quite literally under an ill-omened star. Despite the accreditations you carry, from a distant government we have as little to do with as possible, doubts remain. Assure me that you truly have our best interests at heart.”
“Let me take this one,” Quanta murmured to Artemis and stepped forward, introducing himself. He had studied all the files they had on the peoples of the four planets, and he’d found the Tulromites one of the most interesting. Back-to-nature separatists, to be sure, but practical ones who recognized the value of science, simply wanting to keep it in check and in its place. To use what was needed, but no more. He felt they would respond to a science-based approach to what was going on with their sun, and he proceeded to give the Governor just that, with backup from Scion. When he stepped back at the end of his presentation, she smiled approvingly and nodded to the leader on her right.
“I yield the floor to my colleague, the Patriarch Benasaam of the Kryssadan of Kyrnoka,” she said, and then resumed her seat.
The jackal-like alien who rose next was lightly robed, with elaborate body paint, clearly denoting his high rank and importance. Addressing his peers, he barked out curtly “My fleet admiral has met these foreigners, and he speaks of their calmness under fire, and their prowess in negotiation. I don’t like my time wasted, so I won’t waste yours, nor theirs. Tell us, newcomers, what can you offer to our investigations, and how would you stop the sabotage, robbery, and destruction plaguing us?”
Patriarch Benasaam of Kyrnoka
Artemis had also studied the files on the colonists of Erigayn, and after their encounter with the SkyCommander she felt she had a pretty good idea of their psychology. She’d known the type before, on Earth, and knew what they responded to, what they respected – guile and a strong front, confidently presented, and an appreciation for properly exaggerated tales of prowess.
“Well, we shall see if you can live up to your claims, female,” he said after she concluded her recitation of the Vanguard’sexploits, but Artemis felt the Patriarch looked suitably impressed, difficult as it was to be sure of his expressions or body language. As he sat back down he gestured to his right, and the fish-like Xi’nim leader leapt to his feet, leaning in dramatically to slam his fists down on the table.
“Ah, Endara, you seem so anxious to involve these outsiders in our affairs, but how do we know that they are not the true agents of our woes. But Gallago, the High Engineer of Dezirin, is not so ready to trust these trespassers, who so smugly disrespected my own military. I demand they prove to us that they are not simply hounds of the Star-Master, here to spearhead an invasion of his Imperial armadas!”
High Engineer Gallago of Dezirin
“Ha! That’s a laugh,” Jonny said, stepping forward before any of the others could react. He knew a bully when he saw one, and just how to deal with ‘em, too. “We kicked the Z’irdani off our world when they tried that shit, and they haven’t had the balls to try again… and you know why?”
Jonny burst into blue fire and rose into the air, glowering down at the suddenly cowering leader. The crowd gasped and the security forces started forward, until waved back by Governor Endara. “We’re no dogs of the Imperium, but really, how do we know you’re not? Maybe all this sabotage and theft and whatever is an inside job… maybe you should convince us that you’re not the one working for the Star-Master!”
“That’s absurd,” the High Engineer gurgled in outrage. “Absurd!” But he slumped back down in his chair and gestured at the fourth and final member of the Council. “What do you have to say about all this, General Raffar?”
The crocodilian Aress’kan military leader stood and addressed the Vanguard directly, ignoring her still-sputtering colleague. “I speak for President Kuusm, who cannot attend these proceedings, due to the priorities of the gestation season on Aress’ka. But I know her concern would be for the transient nature of these… visitors. They are clearly vagrants, however powerful and strange they may be. How can we trust our homes, our families to them, how can we know the level of their commitment to our cause.”
General Raffar of Aress’ka
Totem lead the argument on this one, with occasional assists from Artemis and the others. He was very persuasive in addressing the General’s concerns, and by the time she sat down, he thought she seemed convinced… but Artemis wasn’t so sure. “There’s something… off about that one,” she muttered to her teammate as they waited for Governor Endara to address them again.
“Gentlebeings, thank you for so patiently addressing our concerns. If you will return to your quarters, we will confer; once we have reached a decision we shall ask you return to the Rotunda to hear our words.”
As Fahar Synok lead them out of the Council Rotunda, they suggested that the aliens might want to wander the Promendade, to see the sights of Irikand City and the offerings of the four worlds of Erigayn. “I understand from what you’ve said that this is the first time you’ve visited a world other than your own. I would be most pleased to show you the wonders of our worlds.”
“Ooh, street food!” Jonny said. “Is there any Gagh around here?”
“I’d love to see what the local alcohol scene is like,” Chilz added. “Do you guys have beer? Or rum, maybe?”
“Actually, some good coffee, or its equivalent would be nice,”Artemis sighed, and Scion offered an enthusiastic second.
While Fahar led the others off to seek out food and drink, Quanta decided to wander the complex on his own, discreetly scanning for any signs of Silverstar’s unique energy signature. Totem adopted a similar strategy, but in search of any traces of alien magic heretofore unknown to him. Both heroes returned to the Rotunda several hours later disappointed.
Their failure was assuaged somewhat by Governor Endara’s announcement that the majority of the Council Quadrene had voted to accept the aid of the Vanguard. To their surprise, it turned out that General Raffar was the lone dissenting vote, with the High Engineer Gallago voting for the aliens.
The result of the agreement was that all four planets delivered all of the intelligence they had gathered over the past several months to the Council on Irikand. They in turn passed it over to the Vanguard for analysis. With the gregarious and energetic Xi’nim Fahar Synok acting as project manager for the mixed band of assistants the Council had provided them, the heroes were soon neck deep in reports.
Over the next two days their careful reviewing of the official documents revealed a series of seemingly unrelated thefts and bizarre acts of industrial sabotage, on all four of the inhabited worlds of the system. It was a strange and initially inexplicable collection of materials stolen, and things sabotaged.
On Prokira, dried foodstuffs, particularly fruits and nuts, as well as industrial insecticides and focal lenses for high-powered telescopes were stolen, while aquaponic gardens, growing bulk protein algae used as a frequent food supplement, were sabotaged.
Dezirin suffered sabotage of several engine testing facilities, and the theft of powerful neodymium magnets, x-ray tubes, and starship air scrubbers.
Kyrnoka saw the theft of detergent formulations and bleaching agents, anodes from high-power batteries, and large quantities of medications used to treat various mental disorders, especially lithium. Sabotage of the solar mirrors used to regulate the desert world’s surface temperature and moderate weather extremes was particularly devastating.
On Aress’ka, pyrotechnics and flares to celebrate the next hatching season were stolen, as were emeralds and heat shield panels for satellites, and several neonatal facilities were sabotaged.
It was Quanta who had the sudden realization that all of the thefts involved items rich in three particular elements: boron, beryllium, and lithium.
“The only three elements not created from stellar reactions alone,” Quanta explained to the others. “The creation of these elements involves cosmic ray spallation, a rare event where a powerful burst of gamma radiation launches into heavier elements—ones that are created within a star—blasting them apart to create these lighter elements.”
“And in talking with Fahar, it turns out that this system was so appealing to the original colonists precisely because of the relative abundance of those particular elements, which are normally quite rare, on each of the four habitable planets,” Scion added.
It was Artemis, however, who realized that the acts of sabotage, which seemed so random at first glance, actually had a similarly strange thread connecting them.
“The sabotages have no obvious economic or military motives,” she said. “But they do target things with deep emotional importance to their respective species. If someone wanted to put the people of the Erigayn system at each other’s throats, and stop interplanetary cooperation, this would be the way to do it.”
“And they nearly succeeded,” Totem agreed. “Everyone was so incensed, none of them were thinking clearly, and they’d stopped talking to one another. If it wasn’t for our arrival…”
The biggest breakthrough came from the intelligence data collected by all four governments. Analyzing it closely, Scion noticed a strange glitch present at every theft and hijacking – a flicker, a glimmer, easily dismissed as random noise. In one or two instances, maybe, but once he noticed it and started looking, he found it in every recording of every theft.
“Turns out it was a sensor-cloaked ship,” he said, presenting his final conclusions to the team. “Effectively invisible to standard sensors, including those on the visible light spectrum, but once I knew it was there, and started to adjust for… well, it’s pretty technical. The important thing is, I found a way to punch through at least some of that cloaking.”
He tapped a button on his console and a holographic image of a gray, static-filled shape popped into existence. Few real details were visible, but it was clearly a space vessel, and a fairly large one at that. “Some sort of freighter I should think, given the tonnage its crew has stolen.”
“Any sign of this ship at the sabotage events?” Artemis asked, studying the slowly rotating display.
“No, not a single instance of the anomaly at a sabotage incident,” Scion confirmed. “And yet present at every single theft or hijacking incident.
“Once I had this data, I asked Fahar to gather general satellite monitoring from all four governments, which they did surprisingly quickly — they’ve been a tremendous help. I was able to gather enough information to track the mystery ship leaving each of the four worlds at multiple times… which means I can triangulate where the ship, or ships, were headed to.
“The trails all converge on an abandoned mining asteroid in the Outer Belt, nicknamed ‘the Dark Star.’ The facility was abandoned forty years ago, shut down and mothballed. But Fahar just received the long range sensor sweeps I requested… there’s an energy signature coming from the area, faint, but it’s one that shouldn’t be there at all.”
“Well, I guess we know where we’re headed next,” Chuck laughed.
••••••
Ten hours later the Star Wind slowly approached the supposedly abandoned mining asteroid, shields up and sensors at maximum sensitivity.
“There’s no doubt that the mining facility is powered up,” Quanta said, carefully going over the readings. “But I’m not getting any indication of life signs.”
“How about on that?” Chilz said, pointing at the main view screen. Just coming into sight around the asteroid in their cautious circling was a large, vaguely menacing ship. It was black, and difficult to see save for its running lights and a few windows. Clearly keeping station, it hung about a kilometer off the asteroid. Scion hit the controls to bring their limited weaponry from stand-by to active.
Mysterious raider ship, apparently abandoned.
“Hmmm… no, I’m not getting any life readings from that, either,” Quanta said after a few tense moments. “But its energy signature and spectral makeup does match the various readings we culled from the four governments’ records of the pirate raids — I think we’ve found our mysterious cloaked raider, my friends!”
Half an hour later, after some debate, the Star Wind was positioned close to the mystery ship, one of its airlocks linked by a flexible tube to one on the freighter. One-by-one the Vanguard pulled themselves along, weightless, between the artificial gravity fields of the two vessels.
Chilz, in the middle of the pack, continued to be concerned about an ambush. “You really don’t think it’s possible that they’re shielding themselves from our sensors?” he groused to Quanta, kicking off into the umbilical tube.
“That’s not really how sensors, and shielding, works,” his friend replied. “But if so, maybe we’re being shielded from them, too… ever think of that?”
In the event, the ship did indeed prove to be quite empty. Almost literally so. Easily ten times the volume of the Star Wind, the bulk of its area was taken up by mostly empty cargo space. Empty now, but there was evidence that it wasn’t always so; and one bay still held the neodymium magnets and x-raytubes stolen in the most recent raid on Dezirin’s shipping.
“I’m picking up traces of all three unique elements, all of them in forms corresponding to some of the materials stolen in the raids,” Scion announced after scanning a fourth cargo hold. “I don’t think there can be any doubt this the raider. Or at least one of them… I’m still not willing to completely rule out multiple ships being involved, despite the uniformity of the readings we recovered from each attack.”
“There’s something odd about the ship itself,” Quanta said a short time later, as they neared the bridge. He was running his own sensor array, taken from and connected to their own ship, across several sections of wall, floor, and ceiling. “The structural materials are not unusual for a Union vessel, or really most any vessel built in known space… but there’s something… oh! I see it now…
“Everything, every metal, every plastic, every composite… everything I’ve scanned since we boarded is absolutely pure! Aluminum is 100% pure aluminum, titanium alloys are precisely composed of the proper percentages of elements, in proportion – and not a detectable trace of any impurity in anything!
“Ilandra, is this a normal set of readings for any known method of construction or refining, in the Union or elsewhere?” he asked via his comm-link to the Star Wind, transmitting the data at the same time.
“No, Dr. Steiner,” the sultry alto voice of the Star Wind’s controlling AI replied almost instantly. “I can find no record of such pure materials from any modern industrial process in known space. Such purity can, and has, been achieved of course; but mainly in scientific or academic settings, and at great expense. Such processes are generally considered too expensive for mass production.”
“An interesting observation,” Artemis said, entering the command deck after her own survey of the ship’s living area. “But frankly, I’m more interested in finding out what happened to the crew. There are quarters for eight… humanoids… in the crew area, and indications of at least sixoccupants recently. Although, strangely, there doesn’t seem to be any food supplies currently aboard.”
“Maybe they took all the food with them when they left,” the Blue Flame suggested, half-seriously. “But even if they did… I guess the question is still where did they go?”
“Well, there seems to be only two likely possibilities,” Totem said. “Either they went to the asteroid facility, or they boarded another ship.”
“Nothing in the operational logs indicate contact or communication with another vessel,” Scion said from the main command console, where he’d been delving into the ship’s computers. “But these records are spartan, to say the least… and incomplete, I’m almost certain. Amazingly, they do have logs of various raids… yes, correlating them to the data from the planetary governments… well, I guess that settles that question. This ship appears to have been responsible for all of the known raids, thefts and hijackings in the last several months.”
“Well, that leaves the asteroid as the only place this mystery crew could have gone,” Quanta shrugged. “Give me a minute to try and get apost-cognition reading… maybe that will give us a clue as to what happened to our pirate crew…”
But several minutes of increasingly frustrating effort yielded nothing but a dark gray fuzz and a pulsing headache. “Sorry, it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. Maybe it’s just being in space, outside a gravity well… I’m not sure. But it almost feels like some kind of interference field.”
The asteroid was the next obvious step, and although sensors continued to indicate no life signs aboard the mining facility, no one wanted to take any chances. Scion and Quanta managed to disable the power couplings to the main drive, which meant the mystery ship would not be going anywhere, at least not without some time-consuming fixes first.
“It’s odd,” Scion said as they prepared to leave the engine room and meet the others at the airlock. “It’s a standard, if very advanced, fusion power plant for the ion drive. But I’d swear some of this extra machinery is meant as a housing for a secondary, replacement power source.”
“Any idea what kind of power source?” Quanta asked, glancing at the surprisingly small unit his friend had indicated.
“Not a clue. Although given the comparative size of these elements, it must be incredibly concentrated and powerful, if it’s meant to supplant, not just enhance, the main power core.”
Not far from the engine room, they discovered what was obviously a teleport chamber, with the standard six disk emitters on a raised platform and a nearby control console. They considered calling the others and using these personnel teleporters to return to their own ship, but in an abundance of caution decided to return the way they’d come.
“I know it’s not much different than my own quantum tunnels, really,” Quanta shrugged. “Just a mini-wormhole connecting two disks. But the idea that they could be booby-trapped to pop us into space, instead…”
“I don’t disagree,” Scion laughed. “But please don’t mention the room to the boys – I don’t think I can stand another point-by-point comparison between Star Trek and the real-world Union right now. Nevermind another round of their theory that Gene Roddenberry must’ve been a Union alien. Or knew one.”
••••••
An hour later the Vanguard once again departed the Star Wind via an airlock umbilical, this time into an old, cramped airlock, and the micro-gravity, of the asteroid mining facility.
“Micro-gravity my ass,” Chilz muttered, as the magnetic grapplers attached to his feet latched onto the metal grating of the floor, making him feel like a tree trying to walk. “How is this different than zero-g?”
“In a practical sense, it’s no difference at all,” Artemis said, wafting past him as if she’d been born in zero-g, apparently no more encumbered by the mag-boots than if they were ballet slippers. Her cape, which had always given Chilz the unsettling feeling that it was looking at him, suddenly seemed even more alive as it flowed sinuously about her.
The corridor beyond the personnel airlock was wide and dimly lit, angling away to the left. Artemis took the lead and quickly reported back that it led to living quarters and a dead end. The beds and toilet facilities looked as if they hadn’t been used in the decades since the asteroid was abandoned – although, she noted, they seemed to have been well-used prior to that.
Not far from the airlock, on the left wall, rock had clearly been hewn away fairly recently, and a doorway placed within the concavity. The heavy, very solid-looking double doors seemed very out of place, compared to the other bits of the old mining facility. They were obviously newer, and by the scarring of the stone around them had been retro-fitted – although, given the lack of weathering in space, they could only guess at precisely when. But the pristine metal of the doors argued for quite recently.
Abandoned Dark Star asteroid mining facility.
The large, rectangular chamber beyond had clearly been retrofitted as well, at some point after the original operation had been shut down. Certainly the glowing energy reactor, set between two large mining pits that vanished into the heart of the asteroid, was not part of the original facility. The harsh blue-white light pulsing from the device failed to entirely illuminate the shadowy ceiling some 12 meters overhead — but seemed strangely familiar. Scion bent to the nearest control panel, calling up screens of data, Quanta at his shoulder.
“Ah, it’s clearly a zero point energy system,” he said after a moment’s study. “Similar to the one Álavar uses to power the Pyramid, actually, but I suspect somewhat more advanced. Certainly the design aesthetic is very different.”
“If you say so,” Quanta shrugged, moving to examine another set of control interfaces. “It looks like an odd construction of one to me, though.”
“It’s very technical… I won’t go into the details now; but yes, you’re right, it is unusual. Like the engines on that freighter, I’d say this was designed so that another energy source could be substituted. But I still have no idea what that other source might be…”
“Maybe steam power?” Totem asked innocently. The twin looks of annoyance from Scion and Quanta got laughs from the others, and broke the tension that had been building since they’d entered the abandoned station. Reluctantly, the two scientists turned from examining the power core to explore the rest of the area.
“What do you make of these?” Artemis asked Scion, pointing to one of the four large, hulking objects set around the perimeter of the room. Easily 5 meters tall, each had four mechanical legs, ending in claw-like feet and a series of smaller waldos scattered about their central body column. A suspiciously weapon-like appendage near the “head” was clearly Artemis’ main concern. “Some sort of combat mechs?”
“Mmmm, maybe,” Scion replied, releasing his magnetic boot lock to drift up for a closer look. “But given the nature of the facility, and all these precise manipulators, I’d say it’s more likely they’re mining units. I’ll grant you, this barrel at the top looks like a powerful laser unit, which I suppose could be used offensively… but it was most likely just meant to drill into rock.”
Before Artemis could reply, a call from Chilz drew them to the “south” side of the chamber (as they had arbitrarily designated the sides of the room). He had managed to open the double doors set in the middle of the south wall, and now leaned out to yell “I think this is some sort of teleport room! It looks sort of like Star Trek’s transporter room, with six pads and everything.”
Artemis and Scion shared an eye-roll and a resigned sigh, but neither said anything as they clomped over to their teammate.
“Yes, there’s no doubt this is a Union-standard teleporter array, Chilz,” Scion agreed, after a quick examination of the control console in the smaller room. “It’s essentially the same technology the Alliance uses back home. If I can hack into the system here, maybe I can get an idea of where whoever is running this show has gone…”
“That’s great, guys,” Quanta interrupted, grinning as he leaned in through the doorway. “But I think I found the real prize behind Door Number Two! Come on, you’ll want to see this!”
As the three left the teleproter room to join Quanta, Totem and the Blue Flame returned from exploring beyond the doorway in the east wall. “Nothing much to see,” the Blue Flame said. “Looks like the original docking bay, and its control room… but if all that space-dust is any indication, nobody’s been using it recently.”
“I agree,” Totem added. “There’s minimal power to the area, but no signs of activity. But it sounds like Quanta’s hit the jackpot?”
There was an airlock between the power core and the room beyond, and Scion had to override the safety protocols to keep both sets of door open simultaneously. The room beyond the airlock was longer and narrower than the first room, its shorter end walls angling in sharply toward the airlock, making a squat letter “V,” In the center of the long wall opposite was a massive, three-lobed arch of dark metal, and immediately beyond that was a large set of industrial-sized airlock doors. It seemed a strange, cramped arrangement.
The oddly-shaped room was of the newer construction style, stark and utilitarian. Two computer control consoles, with station chairs clearly made for humanoid bodies, were set on either side of the space, and immediately to the left of the ominous-looking arch was a singular long, curved console. Two of the massive mining ‘bots loomed in the shadows beyond the central work area, along with several cargo cases.
While Scion moved to study the arch console Quanta studied the controls on the other, smaller consoles. After a minute he tapped several buttons, and with a warning blare the massive doors just beyond the arch began to slide open. “As I suspected,” he said. “These open into the inner chamber of that larger new industrial airlock/docking bay we saw from the outside of the asteroid.”
“Quanta, can you try your post-cognition sense again?” Artemis asked. “Maybe whatever interference you felt on the ship isn’t present here.”
“Worth a shot,” Quanta shrugged. “I admit, everything feels even weirder out here in space. I don’t know if it’s the micro-gravity or what…” In the center of the airlock chamber he closed his eyes and focused on seeing the quantum trails left in the under-layers of reality around him.
“Hmmm… there’s still some kind of blurring effect… but this time I’m getting… something. Yeah, I see those big mecha-things moving around… looks like they’re carrying… well, I can’t tell, but whatever it is, the cargo is pretty large… they’re moving it in from the outer airlock chamber… I see… I think it’s our mystery freighter, but it’s hard to be sure…
“They’re carrying the cargo into the… no, not into the control room! They pass through the archway, but they just vanish… and on the quantum level, that arch looks… oh jeez, it’s nauseating… I can’t…”
With an effort Quanta wrenched himself out of his post-cognition trance, and it took him a minute before he was sure he wasn’t going to barf. For which everyone was grateful in the current micro-gravity environment. When he was sure of his stomach again he straightened up and shook his head.
“OK, that was really strange… never seen anything quite like it before… I think I was seeing what a teleportal looks like on the quantum level. The ‘bots and their loads were going in one side, but they sure weren’t coming out this side. And on this side, all I could see were maybe half a dozen vaguely humanoid shapes at the control stations… not enough detail to even be sure of race, much less individual identities, though, sorry. I won’t be picking anyone out of a line-up on this one.”
“You’re entirely right about this arch being a teleport unit, though” Scion said, turning from the console at which he’d been intently working, a disturbed look on his face. “An industrial-sized unit, and it seems to have been pumping all of the stolen materials from the four colonies… straight into the sun itself!”
“What? That can’t be right,” Chilz said, voicing what everyone was thinking. “Are you sure? I mean, what would be the point?”
“Yes, I’m quite sure. The teleport logs are unambiguous, and the ones I’ve accessed, going back several months, all show the other end of this link is deep in the photosphere of the star. As to the why…” He tapped several buttons, and a holographic display flickered to life over the console. Despite the occasional wavering and static interruptions of the recording, it was quite clearly an image of the Earth hero Silverstar. The voice was clearer than the visual, and easily recognizable to those who’d met the youth on Earth.
“The test goes well, sir. We continue to acquire the appropriate materials, and are sending them into the star at the preordained times and coordinates. Already the star begins to dim… although, I confess it seems to be taking longer than our projections first indicated it might. Would increasing the amount of material be appropriate, or might a different frequency of dumping succeed in accelerating the process? I await your command.”
There was a section of fuzzed out static hiss, which Scion indicated represented a gap of at least 30 hours. Then another flickering image appeared and began to speak. Both the armor of Nemesis and his voice were all too familiar to the Vanguard.
“You are doing well, Silverstar, but do not be too concerned about the pace of the star’s destruction. This is, after all, a test run, and what we learn here will inform our next steps. Nonetheless, I enclose new calculations for increased frequency of material depositions into the star – I believe this will quicken the end result we desire. And once we reduce Erigayn to a smoldering brown dwarf, and the planets orbiting it to frozen tombs, we will be on our way to doing as much to any system in the galaxy. After a few more examples, the fools here on Earth will finally realize the necessity of submitting to my effort to elevate them – if only to save their own sun!”
The hologram flickered out.
“That – that’s –“ Quanta sputtered.
“Diabolical!” Blue Flame cried.
“Monstrous!” Chilz shuddered.
“— the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Quanta finished, surprising his two teammates. “I mean, it’s just absurd. I’d have to run the numbers, but even if there was some remote chance that you could destabilize a star like this, it would take… well, not just years, but centuries, at a bare minimum, to do so!”
“Yes, that’s rather what I thought,” Scion sighed. “So either Nemesis is an idiot… or maybe he knows something we don’t? But the science seems… not in his favor…”
“I’d like to know how long Silverstar has been working with Nemesis,” Artemis said. “Has he been playing both sides this whole time? I know he was a rather callow youth when he tried to join the team… but to me he seemed sincere at the time, if undirected. I can’t believe I was so mistak— Scion! Helmet!”
As she yelled her warning Artemis was already moving, hurling both shadow sticks past her teammate’s head into the gloom behind the console. They bounced off the metallic sides of one of the mining ‘bots as it loomed out of the dimness. They had no apparent effect, but by then Scion had reformed his helmet and once more released his boot anchors and pushed off, unleashing a powerful EMP as he turned in midair. He was unsurprised that the mining machines proved too well shielded for that ploy to work.
Mining unit or combat mech?
Totem had been almost as quick as Artemis in sensing the sudden attack of the industrial machines, and he’d send a bolt of pure mystic energy slamming into the second ‘bot near him on the other side of the room. The colorful energy splashed harmlessly against the cold metal, and the drilling laser pivoted to target the mage. His shields barely held against the concentrated beam of ruby light, and he was hurled back into one of the consoles.
Standing near the airlock back into the power core chamber, Chilz was the first to realize the other four ‘bots there had been activated as well. Sensing little moisture in the artificial atmosphere of the mining facility, he opted to conserve his power and try good old-fashioned brute strength. As the closest of the mechs entered the airlock, almost filling the space, he met it and unleashed a roundhousepunch – only to have it parried by one massive leg. The machine’s laser swiveled to point straight at him, and Chilz grabbed the barrel. All his strength could barely force it up a foot or so — but that was enough to avoid the deadly beam, which lanced out over his head.
Worried about destroying the only bubble of breathable air his teammates had, the Blue Flame blasted the ‘bot stomping towards Totem with a relatively low-powered plasma stream. While the blue energy made a pretty sight washing over the machine, it didn’t seem to effect it in the slightest… beyond causing it to swivel it’s laser on the flying hero instead of Totem. The high-powered beam pierced straight through the Blue Flame, leaving him slightly queasy for a moment, but otherwise unharmed.
As the first mechanical beast lumbered forward, its own laser bouncing off Scion’s armor, Quanta pulled out his signature move, creating a shiny block of solid quantum-matter directly over it… and there it stayed, drifting slightly to the side in the micro-gravity of the asteroid. Cursing himself for an idiot, Quanta let the block fade away and braced himself against the nearest computer console. Firmly placed to counter any equal and opposite reaction, he sent a stream of Bucky-balls flashing past Scion, ricocheting off all four of the construct’s legs. It collapsed in a tangle of crumpled limbs, bounced off the floor, and began flailing helplessly, drifting upward.
Scion performed a quick coup de grace, sending a jolt of bio-electricity into the mining ‘bot to leave it a smoking pile of inert metal parts. He quickly turned to the second mecha, which was threatening Totem and Artemis, just in time to see the latter’s Shadow Whip lash out and entangle its legs. Like its “brother,” the ‘bot stumbled, losing its grip on the metal grating of the floor. Before it could right itself and regain traction, Scion loosed a stream of hyper-accelerated electro bolts into its center of mass, piercing its artificial brain and “killing” it.
As Chilz continued to grapple with the third mining ‘bot, by keeping it pinned in the doorway he was at least blocking the other three from getting past to join the fray, he thought…
“Chilz, can you not freeze it in place,” Totem called, sending another futile mystic blast past his teammate and into the ‘bot.
“No real… atmospheric… moisture,” Chilz grunted out, straining to keep the machine in place and its laser pointed away from anyone.
“I think I can do something about that, actually…” Totem muttered, and gestured at a large pipe running along the ceiling overhead. The violet bands of his Binding Lash spell writhed from his hands, wrapping themselves around the pipe, and tearing it apart. Water gushed forth, atomizing into millions of globules that drifted in a cloud in the chamber’s upper reaches, glinting wickedly in the dim light.
Chilz grinned as he sensed the sudden available moisture – and reeled back as one of the ‘bot’s legs managed to “knee” him in the groin. He fell back, coming to one knee, but it didn’t hurt the way it would have in his flesh-and-blood form. Thankfully. He sent a sheet of ice speeding across the floor beneath the giant mecha’s feet. As it tried to move into the room the thing’s limbs slipped and it began to flail, trying to renew its grip on the grating… only to slide off and bounce upward, untethered and drifting.
As the sheet of ice spread out into the power core room, two of the other three ‘bots suffered a similar fate, spinning wildly in mid-air, grasping for a hold on anything to stabilize themselves. Before any of the mining robots could recover, however, Chilz filled the airlock between the two chambers with a solid block of ice, imprisoning the first flailing ‘bot like a fly in amber and blocking the others completely, at least for the moment. Only the frozen mech’s laser drill remained free, and it got off one last shot. The ruby beam bounced harmlessly off Scion’s armor, and the Blue Flame quickly slagged the weapon into uselessness.
“Well, I think that—“ Chilz was cut off as a blinding flash of white light blasted his ice plug into a million shards, reducing the mining ‘bot to twisted wreckage, and sending the elemental hero flying. Artemis and the Blue Flame were also caught in the blast, slamming into the wall near the large teleport arch. Only Scion and Quanta remained unmoved, and were the first to see the shining figure floating through the now cleared doorway from the other chamber.
“Ah, my old friends the Vanguard!” Silverstar said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Figures you’d show up to try and throw a monkey wrench into things. Well, you had your chance to play nice with Nemesis and help him save Earth — not to mention the rest of the civilized galaxy — but you chose your own egos and Nimrod’s small-minded attitudes instead. Now you’ve forced him to other means to make humanity evolve – this test case will be the first of many stars to grow dim. And when it’s Earth’s time, maybe then you’ll be more open to letting our people evolve!”
Silverstar, in better days.
“Randy, this isn’t like you,” Chilz said, climbing back to his feet, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. “If you’ll just stand down, we can talk about this, and maybe we can—“
“No… Chilz… the time for talking is done. Like I said, you had your chance!” Chilz’ ice shield barely deflected the blast of white light Silverstar hurled at him, and the kid’s second blast caught the BlueFlame full in the chest, sending him reeling.
Scion’s attempt at his Brain Tickler attack proved ineffective, and in the next few seconds so to did Artemis’ shadow sticks, Totem’s mystic bindings, and Quanta’s Bucky ball attacks. The Blue Flame’s plasma blast was blocked by Silverstar‘s raised hand as casually as batting away a fly.
“It’s that damn Star Shield he generates,” Scion called out over comms. “It makes him practically invulnerable to any force we can bring to bear in here…”
Hearing the message relayed through his quantum link with Kyle, Jonny had a sudden inspiration – his own power was plasma-based, the stuff stars were made of, and Silverstar drew his power from the stars. Maybe as the Blue Flame he could absorb that power, much like he did flames and other energy on Earth? It was worth a shot… he reached out, sensing the power roiling around his target… and began to pull it into himself…
It was different than absorbing fire or even lasers, and felt strange… but it seemed to be working… he could feel an immense surge of power flowing into himself, and the shining aura around Silverstar visibly dimmed, the villain— hero— whatever-the-hell-he-was— staggering in midair. “I don’t think I drained him completely,” he called out, “but I think I made a dent!”
“And that’s why you’re my executor, buddy,” Quanta said over their private quantum link, at the same time wrapping the dazed Silverstar in a straight jacket of shimmering matter. While their foe struggled Quanta released a burst of healing energy into the room… it was something he’d been practicing for a while, extending his contact healing to an area-of-effect healing wave. It did clear up the minor cuts, bruises and scrapes of his friends, and revitalized them – but it didn’t seem to free Silverstar from any mind control he might be under, as he’d hoped it might. Ah well, it had been worth a try…
Like his teammate, Totem also thought the young hero might be under some form of mental control. Reaching out with his own mind, he probed for the cause. But Randy’s surface thoughts were untainted, as far as he could tell, focused on the fight, his anger… perhaps the control was deeper, more subtle. Totem went deeper… and broke through into a seething mass of psychic chaos. It was like being caught in a centrifuge, and his mind, dizzy and reeling, was violently ejected from Silverstar’s.
As Totem stumbled back, momentarily dazed, Silverstar regained his focus, releasing a burst of white light that shattered the silvery quantum bonds holding him immobile. But before he could do more than send a wild blast toward the Blue Flame, Scion was on him, grappling the kid long enough to send an EMP blast point blank into his head.
“Bastard!” Silverstar screamed, shrugging off the armored hero— only to turn straight into a powerful roundhousepunch from Chilz. He staggered back, shaking his head to clear it, and suddenly Artemis’ Shadow Whip snapped around him, pinning his arms and yanking him to the floor. Artemis leaped forward to put him in a sleeper hold, but he shrugged and another burst of light shattered the strands of shadow. Suddenly lacking a hold to pivot her momentum, she avoided sailing past by grabbing for Silverstar’s head. Her fingers slipped under his mask/helmet, tearing it off as she pivoted down behind him — and almost taking his nose with it.
As Artemis came down in a crouch, her mag-boots locking to the floor and the mask clutched in her hand, Silverstar wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and the blood dripping from his nose… no, not blood, Scion realized in surprise. The liquid now smeared across his upper lip and cheek was a viscous, silvery substance almost exactly unlike actual human blood. Scion’s first thought was that he wanted a sample of that! His second thought was that Silverstar looked suddenly uncertain.
That look vanished almost instantly, however, as the unexpected villain flung both hands wide, sending a dozen daggers of solid light in a wide arc around himself. As his enemies ducked or dove for cover he took to the air again, soaring over Artemis and past Scion, to come down next to the main control panel. Before anyone could react he flipped open a cover and brought his fist down on the large purple button it had shielded.
Purple lights began to flash, a klaxon sounded, and with a tremendous hiss the cargo airlock beyond the teleporter arch began to slide open. In seconds the rush of evacuating atmosphere became a hurricane, tumbling almost everyone in the chamber out into the vacuum of space. Only Chilz remained in place, ice flowing out from his feet to anchor him to the grate flooring; Silverstar sailed past the opening airlock doors as well, but it was under his own power, and he was gone in an instant, lost in the vastness of the distant stars.
The EVA belts that Artemis, Totem, and Quanta all wore over their costumes activated at the first sign of lost air pressure, and shimmering, almost invisible containment fields snapping into existence around them. Scion had his own closed environmental systems, of course, and neither the Blue Flame nor Chilz had any need of oxygen in their elemental forms.
Tumbling away from the asteroid, Quanta reacted almost instantly. While he could manipulate gravity itself, and Totem had his cloak, both Scion and Artemis were spinning out of control, neither having any means of propulsion… without help, they would vanish inexorably into the void… already it was hard to see Artemis, and Scion was little more than a glint amongst the stars.
“Chilz, can you send out an ice pole, anchored to yourself?” Quanta called over the comms.
“Yes, all the water vapor went with the air, but it’s still close enough for me to use.” Gathering all the moisture he could Chilz sent a shaft of green ice spiraling out toward his quickly disappearing friends. At the same time Quanta was furiously summoning matter from the quantum foam and fashioning it into a wide net in front of his friends. He drew the ends of the silvery net together at the tip of the ice spear, fusing them together.
Artemis and Scion hit the net an instant later, and came to an abrupt stop. When he was sure it was all going to hold, Chilz began reeling them in, like lobsters in a trap. Blue Flame shepherded them back, while Totem and Quanta flew ahead to help pull their friends back into the facility. As the two regained their feet, boots locking to the grid, Quanta and Chilz both released their constructs to fade back into nothingness.
“We appreciate the save, Kyle, Chuck,” JJ said, once they had the airlock closed and atmosphere had been restored. “And your quick thinking. Nice teamwork, my friends!”
“Agreed,” Artemis seconded the sentiment. “Tumbling and spinning like that, it was difficult to get my bearings, making a teleport back here… uncertain.”
“I’m thinking I need to add some sort of independent propulsion to my suit,” Scion sighed. “It’s very frustrating to be grounded simply because I’m outside a planetary electromagnetic field. But that’s a worry for later… right now, I’m checking the Star Wind’s long range sensors… damn, there’s no sign of Silverstar. Before he went beyond sensor range, though, he was on a trajectory almost perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic… that would take him out of the system altogether.”
“Not that there’s any reason to believe he remained on that heading, once he knew he was out of our detection range,” Quanta shrugged. “He’s too smart to head straight back to wherever he and his minions are holed up.”
“Minions?” the Blue Flame asked. Jonny was staying in his plasma form until they got back to their ship. He didn’t have a fancy Union EVA belt, of course, and while it had been fun to confirm that the Blue Flame did just fine in the vacuum of space, he had no desire to try the same stunt in his human body!
“By the evidence of the mystery freighter he’s not working alone,” Artemis said. “So there must be another base somewhere in the system, housing whatever associates he has. I think it’s time we returned to Irikand and the Council, to report what we’ve found.”
“Agreed,” Quanta said. “Scion, I don’t suppose your armor’s sensors were able to get a scan of that silvery substance that Silverstar was “bleeding” were they?”
“No, not at that range; plus, I was rather occupied at the time. However…” he leaned in to examine the doorframe of the airlock where the shattered remains of Chilz’ old mechanical foe drifted. With a triumphant grin he scraped a drop of the silver liquid off the metal wall, placing it into a small sterile ampule from his belt. “Now we have a physical sample!”
••••••
Sixteenhours later Scion concluded the Vanguard’s report on their findings at the Dark Star mining asteroid, to thunderous applause from the gathered dignitaries, functionaries and bureaucrats of the Erigayn System. There had been some discussion, on the long flight back, about how much to share with the Council, given the uncomfortable fact that the main villains of the piece both seemed to be from Earth. In the end, Artemis’ counsel of full transparency had been adopted, and it seemed to have been a success.
The delegates were pleased to have the mystery ship (which the Vanguard had tractor-beamed back to Irikand with them) in their possession, and the return of at least a fraction of the material stolen. They were even more thrilled to have some solid knowledge of an opponent that had, until now, been so invisible as to cast doubt on their actual existence. Tensions in the room eased visibly once the various factions were convinced it was an outside element perpetrating these crimes, and not one of them.
Almost everyone was thrilled.
Amid the ovation for the Vanguard, High Engineer Gallago abruptly silenced the crowd by slamming their fist down again on the central table and leaping to their feet.
“Oh, please, this is all nothing that we couldn’t have figured out ourselves,” their angry voice rang out from the speakers on their water-filled survival suit. “You all know it’s true, why do you applaud these alien interlopers?!”
The canine-like features of the Patriarch Benasaam were difficult for the humans to read, but Artemis had a distinct impression of shock as the leader also rose and barked sharply, “Gallago, these are our guests! They have—”
“Guests?! Are you really so eager to forget they violated our space and threatened your own ships, Benasaam!”
Before the Kyrnokanleader could reply, the Aress’kanGeneral Raffar, seated between the two leaders, was on her feet, crocodilian face twisted in a feral snarl. “I’ve had enough of your arrogance, Gallago, and it ends now!” she hissed furiously — and with shocking speed raked her long, very sharp claws across the front of the High Engineer’s survival suit.
A collective gasp echoed around the crowded chamber as the tough material tore open, spilling the leader’s life-sustaining water across the central table. The horrified Gallago staggered back, hands clutching at their chest to try and stem the tide, and managing a single, strangled word.
“Help!”
Too stunned to react at first, the crowd’s confusion quickly turned to incipient panic as General Raffar plowed through them, seeking the main doors and escape. In the general confusion the crazed Geron failed to see Scion descending on her until his armored forearm was locked around her neck…
Quanta, meanwhile, leapt to the aid of the gasping High Engineer, shoving aside the gibbering functionaries flapping their hands uselessly around the stricken being. Gallago had been nothing but a pain in their collective ass ever since they’d arrived, but he’d be damned if he’d let the fishy bastard die just for being an obstructionisttwit.
The water was draining rapidly from the environmental suit, despite the increasingly erratic attempts by the engineer to hold the rents closed. Quanta sent a wave of healing quantum energy into the man, stabilizing his labored breathing… but he needed to find a way to seal the suit agin… maybe he could encase Gallago in a quantum matter shell. He’d be immobile, but at least it would stop the hemorrhaging of the water.
“I think I can help!” Jonny said, dropping to his knees next to Quanta and the feebly struggling leader. “Fahar was telling me about these suits of theirs the other day, they’re pretty amazing.” A single finger of his right hand flared into blue plasma, and he carefully began fusing the tears in the heavy material back together. Within a few seconds he sealed the last rent and restored the suit’s integrity.
“Sorry if I heated up your water too much, your Engineerness,” Jonny said, as he and Quanta helped the High Engineer back to his feet. “I went as quickly as I could, but—”
“No, no,” Gallago said, their voice still a bit quavery. “Better a light parboiling than suffocating to death, I assure you. Thank you, thank you both!“
Quanta was just about to praise Jonny himself, for his quick thinking, when a flash from the crowd caught his eye. Their worried aides had managed to wrangle the two remaining planetary leaders, and were now escorting them toward the main exit… what had caught his eye was the glint of light off a hand blaster being drawn from her robes by Zyrgan Thizim. The Kryssadan infectious diseases expert stood behind and to the side of the Patriarch — and was aiming the weapon directly at her leader’s back!
There was no time to reach them, and the shifting crowd was blocking any direct shot… calculating the angles almost without conscious thought, Quanta unleashed a stream of Bucky balls at the nearest support pillar. It bounced off the pillar, hit a support beam near the ceiling, and struck a second pillar next to Thizim’s head. Damn! Missed it by that much…
But the miss was close enough to startle the would-be assassin. Her arm jerked up as she pressed the trigger contact, and the lethal blast went over the Patriarch’s head, missing him entirely. The shot was the final catalyst, however, and the crowd crystallized into full panic mode. In the ensuing free-for-all Zyrgan Thizim was knocked about, the Brownian motion of the mob shifting her away from her target.
On the other side of the room Artemis caught the attempt on the Patriarch’s life, and turned to the crowd around the other leader, Governor Endara. If there was one assassin there might well be— some sixth sense, honed over almost a century-and-a-half of combat, caused her to duck and whirl as a a blaster beam flared through the space where her head had been a second earlier.
Artemis was shocked to see Fahar Synok, their ever-so-friendly Xi’nim aide and guide, taking aim for a second shot. Their eyes were cold and expressionless, betraying no emotion even as her Shadow Whip lashed out, snapping the weapon from their hand. A second snap of the whip wrapped the strand around their wrist and she yanked them toward. The roundhousepunchXi’nix traitor delivered to her jaw was both shockingly swift and unexpectedly powerful.
The bureaucrat took advantage of her momentary distraction to free themself from the whip, but they were within meleé distance now. Despite the fish-being’s unexpected strength, the fight was short and brutal. They went down, unconscious, with their own environmental-suit leaking in several places. As Artemis stared down at them, the body began to shift oddly… and then it collapsed, suddenly and completely, flowing into a puddle of familiar viscous silvery fluid.
Scion found himself also taken by surprise at the unnatural strength which General Raffar displayed, struggling against his headlock. Not strong enough to break the hold, but enough to make Scion work for it — and to miss the blaster she slid from her holster. The energy pulse took him in the gut at point blank range, and he staggered back, dazed. She twisted away and dove into the crowd, fleeing for the doors…
Totem had been close enough to Governor Endara’s entourage to act when her finance minister, Benith Dantin, drew his own weapon and began loudly proclaiming that she must die for her “transgressions.” His insistence on listing her supposed crimes gave the Magus Prime the seconds he needed to seize control of the Prokirian’s mind— only to find there was little mind to control. Like Silverstar’s, Benith’s surface thoughts were thin and shallow, easily pieced. Beneath them lay a vast, roiling chaos and, as before, it forced Totem to withdraw quickly. But Benith seemed to sense the attempted psychic intrusion, and he turned his blaster on the human mage… Totem got his shields up barely in time to absorb the beam.
Chilz had seen Quanta’s attack on Zyrgan Thizim, and the scientist’s attempt on the Patriarch’s life, and he began wading through the panicked crowd. He reached Thizim just as she prepared to fire a second shot at her leader, and his massive hand came down, crushing both the weapon and her hand. He lifted her off her feet, silver ichor from the damaged appendage seeping between his translucent fingers, and he delivered a tremendous punch to her head. He released her, and both crushed gun and unconscious alien hit the floor. Kneeling down to check on her, he reeled back in disgust as her body, too, collapsed into a silver slurry.
The crowd was slowly thinning as people managed to reach the single exit, although the crush left the guardians around the Patriarch and the Governor still several meters from getting their principals out. Quanta took to the air, intending to help Scion as he dove after General Raffar. But from above it was easy to spot six more apparent infiltrator-assassins becoming activated — and to Quanta it was obvious that “activation” was what was happening. One moment all six had been just parts of the frightened crowd, the next instant they’d froze in place, simultaneously pulling out previously hidden weapons.
They spoke as one, crying out that the leaders must die, and their movements seemed eerily, unnaturally, synchronized. The crowd had been moving, however chaotically, in one direction, toward the exit; but now they scattered in whichever way took them most expeditiously away from the lunatics waving blasters.
Quanta once again calculated the angles and unleashed a stream of quantum matter at the nearest replicant, or whatever the hell these things were, and ricocheted it off into a second one, taking both out. As they, too, turned to silver goo he looked for the next assassin…
The Blue Flame had stayed near the High Engineer, who had been resisting their aides’ attempts to chivvy them out. “No, safer to stay put,” they reiterated to a particularly pushy functionary, “We will stick to the cover of the central meeting table, until things settle—“ the leader was cut off as the pushy aide pulled out a blaster and aimed it at Gallago.
“Our leaders are blasphemers and all must die!” the aide cried — and exploded into a spectacular spray of steam and silver fluid as the Blue Flame’s plasma blast engulfed them. Before the shocked High Engineer could quite process what had happened, the whole chamber shook as the back wall burst inward. A glowing figure floated through the hole, the smoke and dust of the blast momentarily obscuring it…
“Raffar, you have been an excellent agent,” Silverstar laughed as he emerged from the smoke, his voice booming over the sounds of the frightened crowd. “After the chaos you have spread for me here, I promise you will rank high in the counsels of Nemesis and myself! Now let us finish off these interlopers, and free the people from the misrule of these so-called leaders.”
Before the last words had left his mouth Silverstar released twin blasts of solid light from his hands. The first struck Scion, knocking the hero out of the air just as he was reaching for the renegade general; the second sent Quanta tumbling, dazed and bruised, into a support pillar.
As the villain drifted into the Rotunda, Totem cast his Sleeping Mists spell across the room, concentrating it on the remaining assassins and Silverstar himself. But whatever these beings were, they seemed resistant to the soporific effect.
Chilz, after dispatching Zyrgan Thizim, had been converging with Scion on General Raffar, but as his armored teammate was knocked away by Silverstar the Aress’kan military leader turned her blaster on him. The energy bolt struck him in the chest, melting and fracturing his torso, and he reeled back clutching at the wound…
At the same time Artemis launched herself at Silverstar, her shadow sticks pulsing with dark energy as she landed several blows to nerve clusters. But the invulnerability of his Star Shield seemed fully restored, and he shrugged the blows off without pause. She barely evaded the roundhouse punch he aimed at her, coming down behind him, cloak flaring around her.
Totem, realizing this was the moment to really pull out the stops, summoned his staff and unleashed a searing bolt of blue-white chain lightning from it, again targeting all of their opponents in the chamber. The blinding bolt zig-zagged across the space, hitting them all. The minions and General Raffar all burst into steaming, slivery slag, and even Silverstar was dazed.
Chilz dove over the smoking silver ooze that had been Raffar to come down very near the High Engineer Gallago, who was now crouching underneath the central meeting table. The large puddle of water from their suit breach was instantly sublimated as Chilz healed himself. Silverstar touched down atop the massive table, clearly dazed by Totem’s lightning bolt, and Chilz leapt up with all his strength, landing a powerful uppercut that snapped the replicant’s head back.
Silverstar’s glowing aura was dimming as he staggered drunkenly backwards, once again being slowly drained by the Blue Flame. Suffused with the stolen star power, Jonny took to the air and rained down a searing, concentrated pillar of blue-white plasma on their foe. The table vaporized as Chilz pulled the High Engineer away, shielding him with his body, and Silverstar collapsed to the charred, cracked floor. His body twitched once, and then, like the others, it collapsed into a pool of silvery liquid.
••••••
The aftermath of the attack on the Council was ugly, as the various planetary governments began a witch hunt for further replicant infiltrators. Fortunately, a simple blood test was able to determine if an individual was alive or a replicant. The first few were uncovered fairly quickly, but none were taken “alive”— as soon as their deception was revealed, the infiltrators went into seizures, collapsed, and dissolved. After the first few such incidents, scores of beings, spread across all four planets, vanished, leaving behind only pools of silvery liquid.
“Apparently, whatever intelligence is controlling these things has decided the game is up,” Artemis sighed as the latest reports flickered across her console’s screens. The Vanguard were gathered with the three remaining planetary leaders in a much smaller, more intimate, and highly secure room in the sprawling complex of Port Irikand City.
Only a single aide for each leader was present, and the Geron of Aress’ka were represented by the holographic projection of their President, Kuusm. He had been appalled by the apparent betrayal of his leading general, relieved to discover that Raffar had been a replicant, and worried about the fate of the real General Raffar. Unfortunately, the time lag between Aress’ka and Irikand made her participation in the discussion more symbolic than practical.
“Yes, and it’s a pity,” High Engineer Gallago said. Since their multiple rescues at the hands of the aliens they had become the Vanguard’sardent supporter, and had apologized profusely and sincerely for their previous intransigence. “My engineers feel they are very close to finding a way to stabilize and lock the nanites that make up the replicant’s bodies. Then we might have had at least a few to question.”
“Well, the testing will continue,” Patriarch Benasaam replied. “This sudden rash of “suicides” may just be a ploy, to make us lower our guard again, thinking the danger is past. And even if all of the existing infiltrators are gone, what’s to stop our enemy from sending more? No, we may yet have a chance to capture some of the creatures, Gallago. So keep your engineers working!”
“Well, we still hope to make the matter moot,” Scion said, tapping a small, etched rectangle of black silicon on the table. It had been the only physical object found amongst the goo that had been Silverstar. “This chip has proven tricky to crack, but Quanta and I have finally determined what it is, at least in principal – a cypher key for coded teleportation locations. We suspect that it can only be unlocked, and used, at one or the other of the two teleportationunits on the Dark Star asteroid mining facility.”
“Which means it’s our best shot at uncovering the physical location of whoever is behind all this and rolling them up completely,” Artemis picked up the thread. “I appreciate the agents you’ve each loaned me on your various worlds, to act as my eyes and ears.
“We’ve searched all the homes and businesses of the people replaced by the replicants, and it’s obvious the substitutions occurred over months, but none prior to six months ago. Their private files included enough information to prove that they executed the various thefts and acts of sabotage that have plagued the system. The only thing missing, which I would expect to find amongst a spy’s belongings, was some way to communicate — either with one another or with a handler or central spy-master.”
“So, I think it’s time for us to return to the Dark Star,” Quanta concluded. “Although it’s been two days since the attack, and I fear we’ve lost any chance at surprise.”
“Possibly,” Artemis shrugged. “But there was no help for it, even if you two had been able to figure out what the chip was for immediately. If they, whoever “they” turn out to be, don’t realize we possess the chip, nor that we know what it is we possess, it’s possible we may yet retain the element of surprise…”
••••••
Eleven hours later the Vanguard found themselves once again in the asteroid mining facility nicknamed Dark Star. Scion quickly determined that the cypher chip recovered from the fauxSilverstar activated the personnel transporter, rather than the cargo teleportal. The rest of the team was dismayed when he announced that the destination it unlocked, like the main cargo portal, opened into the heart of the star.
“Well, not the heart,” he amended. “The point seems to be in the photosphere, the second-most outer layer, after the chromosphere… practically the surface, really.”
“Which is still about 6,000° Kelvin,” Quanta scoffed. “I don’t think my SPF 1000 sunscreen will be quite strong enough. And I was joking when I said their base might be in the sun…”
“Nonetheless, it appears you were correct,” Totem said. “We all thought the idea of them dumping the stolen material into the sun was absurd – it’s even more absurd to think their personnel teleporters would do the same. I think it’s safe to assume there must be a safe haven – well, relatively safe at least as regards an environment — on the other end of those coordinates.”
“Which would mean we’re dealing with Seeker technology,” Artemis concluded. “No Union tech, nor any tech in known space, could withstand those conditions for very long. And if it is Seeker tech, that explains Nemesis’, and Nimrod’s, interest in it.”
After a brief discussion, it was agreed they had to try, and Scion programmed the teleport pads. At his signal the controls engaged and, with a peculiar hum and no sensation at all, the Vanguard found themselves elsewhere.
The space was huge and very bright, at first glance nothing so much as an immense transparent cube, beyond which the roiling plasma of the sun churned, filling the space with its brilliant yellow-white light. Tiers of crystal tubes lined the lower sections of the walls, each tube holding the still figure of humanoid beings. Before more details had a chance to register, the sounds of a skirmish echoing throughout the chamber drew the heroes’ attention.
The Stellar Foundry.
A chorus of unintelligible roars, perfectly synchronized, filled the surprisingly cool air… and abruptly cut off. Maybe 30 meters away to their left they saw a sea of identical silver-clad bodies scattered across the floor at the feet of one lone silver-clad survivor — a visibly battered and bruised Silverstar.
Even as they watched, the bodies around the young man collapsed and turned to silvery sludge, pooling widely about him. At the same time he spotted the new arrivals, and he pulled himself up, with an obvious effort, from where he had slumped against some sort of coffin-like crystalline pod.
“So, you’ve decided to try something new,“ he growled, his voice hoarse but with a hint of steel. “Well, trying to use replicants based on my allies at home ain’t gonna work, kid… I’m not going back in that pod, and you’re going down… whatever it takes!” He raised his hands, and a feeble glow flickered into existence around them.
“Randall, we are not artificial doppelgängers,” Artemis said, stepping off the teleport platform. “We really are the Vanguard – Nimrod sent us, when you failed to report in again after your initial contact.”
Silverstar paused, cleary not wanting to fight, but deeply suspicious of this sudden appearance of possible help. “How… how do I know you’re telling me the truth? He could’ve pulled you from my surface thoughts…”
“Could he?” Totem asked. “Whoever ‘he’ is, I’ve touched the minds of his constructs twice now, and they were just thin shells of surface thoughts over – something else. Doesn’t the process require actual contact with the real person, to replicate them?”
“Well, yes, I think so,” Silverstar hesitated, dropping his fists. “And I know the Star Child can’t read anything but surface thoughts, and basic personality… tell me something obscure, that only the Vanguard might know…”
“Well,” Chilz said, after a moments thought, “after you tried out for the team, and got turned down, I took you out for a beer. Among other things that night, you told me how you’d had a crush on Sabra, when you tried out for the Liberty Alliance, and how she tried to let you down easy, but that it really sucked.”
Randy Reynolds looked relieved, and suddenly exhausted, as the tension left his body. “Geez, yeah… I didn’t even remember I remembered that… I got pretty plastered that night… no way the kid coulda pulled that outta my head… thank God, I don’t think I got much left in the tank…”
Quanta caught him as he collapsed and lowered him gently to the floor. His hands glowed with his own silvery light as he focused his quantum healing energy into the semi-conscious hero’s battered form. In a few minutes Silverstar was able to stand again, and seemed considerably better… definitely more coherent. His signature white glow, however, was notably absent.
“Thank you, Quanta,” he said, shaking the hero’s hand. “I just wish you could restore my energy reserves as easily. Unfortunately, the kid pretty much drained me, powering that damn copy…”
“So what exactly happened here, Randall?” Artemis asked. “Who is this “kid” you refer to?”
“Ah, yeah, well I call him… it, I guess, really… the Star Child. It’s the artificial intelligence that runs this place, which it, he, calls the Stellar Foundry.”
“Stellar Foundry?” Scion said. “With this level of sophistication, I assume it’s a construct of the Seekers, yes? But then, how old is it?”
“Yeah, it’s Seeker tech alright.. and I’m not sure how old it is, exactly. Over a million years, I think. At least that’s how long it’s been since they shut it down, from what the kid’s said to me. I guess they mothballed the place, and wiped the AI that ran it, but left it in place, in case they ever wanted to get things going again on down the line.”
“Get what going again?” Quanta asked. “What does this place do?”
“Well, it seems to be a big factory. It can turn out anything, pretty much, from those fu– er, darn duplicates to starships. I don’t know what the Seekers used it for, maybe to make planets and sh- um, stuff. Who knows? Whatever they were making, though, they eventually stopped, and closed it all down, like I said.
“They never came back to restart it, either, but about nine years ago something happened that woke up the dormant AI— far as I could work out, it was a stellar probe from one of the inhabited planets in this system – I’m not sure which one. But it apparently got close enough to trigger some sort of reaction, and that caused the AI to… um, reboot itself.
“But with no core programming, it was a completely blank slate – what’d my high school English teacher call it? A tablet rosa? Something like that—“
“A tabula rasa,” Artemis said patiently. “So in essence, this facility is being run by a nine-year-old child?”
“A super-smart, super-powerful nine-year-old child, yeah. But unfortunately it’s not really the one calling the shots. Sometime last year, that bastard Ebony Night stumbled across this star system, and sensed the presence of such a powerful intelligence — or maybe it sensed him, I’m not 100% sure.
“Either way, the kid was so pathetically eager for company, for a friend, the big lizard had no trouble “befriending” him. The Star Child doesn’t see Ebony Night as a father-figure, so much as a big brother — that’s what he’s taken to calling him recently, anyway.”
“Damn, this is not good!” Scion said. “Ebony Night in control of such powerful Seeker technology… what is he doing with this — what did you call it? This Stellar Foundry? “
“The first thing he did was convince the kid to start making him a fleet of starships— to bolster his damn Nightwraiths organization and speed up his effort to make them a power in known space. Which is plenty bad enough, I know, but it’s not the worst part…
“I– I think he was inspired by seeing that monster Entropy in action, when it destroyed the Union’s capital planet. Well, more by what it did afterward, really, when it drained the local star to open that massive wormhole to move on to its next victim. He’s figured out how to do the same thing using the Stellar Foundry, and he’s convinced the Star Child it’ll all be a big adventure, allowing him to “travel the universe,” rather than being stuck here.
“The structure needed to open a wormhole big enough to move the Foundry is being built now, and I think it’s close to being finished. But if it’s activated, it will consume most of the star itself — at best, it’ll be reduced to a brown dwarf; at worst it’ll just be a cold ember.”
“But, but,” the Blue Flame sputtered in horror. “That’ll kill everyone on all four planets! That’s almost a billion people, and they’ll all freeze to death! How can this “kid” be so cruel?”
“I think he doesn’t really see them as real,” Silverstar shrugged. “They couldn’t hear his calls… and when Ebony Night did, it didn’t take much to convince the kid the planet people were just lesser, parasitic life forms, like animals, I guess. And he’s a kid, mentally, even though he’s so powerful… it’s not like he’s had nine years of experience with others, only himself. And now Ebony Night. Anyway, I don’t think most little kids are capable of, whataya call it… empathy.”
“But doesn’t he have to connect with the minds of the people he’s copying, to make his doppelgängers convincing?” Totem asked, frowning. “How can he not realize what he’s doing, how can he miss their shared sentience?”
The weakened hero shrugged again. “He only taps the very surface of the minds he’s copying… it’s just like playing dress up for him, or maybe like playing with dolls. I’m pretty sure Ebony Night has also blocked him from using the deeper levels of the psychic spectrum, just so that he can’t connect on a level that would make his “toys” real to him.
“In the time I was being held in that damn pod, I connected with the kid fairly often, and I think I was maybe beginning to get through to him the idea that I was just as real a person as his “big brother.” But when something happened a couple days ago, and my powers stopped being continually drained… well, I was focused on building up enough strength to break free, and when I did, I think I blew whatever progress I’d made with the kid… he was pretty mad at losing his favorite toy.
“I’m not sure what he’s been doing since I broke out and defeated his replicants, but I suspect he’s called his pal, Ebony Night… and I’m afraid I’m in no condition to fight that bastard, much less both of them. I need to get out, into open space, so I can begin absorbing stellar energy again. I’m sorry, but—“
“No need to apologize,” Artemis assured him. “If we’re going to face Ebony Night, and whatever this Star Child of yours can throw at us, we don’t need the distraction of trying to keep you safe at the same time. Better you go and recharge. Then, should we fail, you’ll be our backup, yes?”
Randy nodded gratefully. “It’ll take some time, but I promise, I’ll be back. But listen, there’s something else you need to know. While I was trapped, whenever the Star Child connected with me to talk— and he was doing that more and more recently— I was able to mentally worm my way into his own… mmmm, how to put it? His base programing structure?
“I couldn’t do anything, but I did find a string of deep code that I think could shut down the AI again. It would have to be activated externally, via the main control console… not something I could do from my prison. Scion, my nanotech can download the info to your armor, if you want. Maybe you can figure out how to use it to put the kid back to sleep.”
Scion accepted the coded information in his isolated computer, and while Artemis and Totem helped Silverstar to the teleporter and sent him back to the Dark Star, he called the data up on his wrist holoprojector to consult with Quanta. They both agreed that the info would have to be encoded to a crystalline chip, and then fed into the main console.
“I think any of these terminals scattered around should be able to encode a chip for us,” Scion said, but before Quanta could reply a booming voice echoed through the massive space.
“You’ve let my favorite one go, and you’ve wrecked all my replicants, and you’re trying to ruin everything. Well you’re in trouble, big trouble, ‘cause my big brother is here now, and he’ll show you!” The words were child-like, but the voice was anything but.
Beyond the ceiling a massive face had formed in the churning plasma of the star, its features a child-like version of Ebony Night’s saurian race. Despite the enormous scale, and alien structure, it somehow conveyed a sense of petulance.
Distracted by the giant representation of the Star Child, only Artemis noticed the hole that dilated open in the far wall, about halfway up its height, and the dark figure that floated through it.
“Indeed, Vanguard, you have traveled a great distance only to meet your own deaths,” Ebony Night’s deep voice cut through the almost subliminal white noise of the living star which surrounded them. “I hope you have enjoyed the journey… for it will be your last!”
Less than two hours after their eye-opening meeting in the Bastion, the Vanguard and Álvaro/Nimrod were in another elevator, in another AzTech facility, heading for another secret facility. Once the Hunter had heard what Scion and Quanta had in mind for contacting Nemesis, he had insisted the attempt could not be made from the Bastion itself.
“First and foremost, it’s probably the most heavily shielded place on the planet,” the silver haired holographic projection of the ancient intelligence had explained. “But equally importantly, even if you could connect to Nemesis despite my shielding, it would almost certainly lead him straight to me – something I’be managed to avoid for many thousands of years. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take at this late date.”
De la Vega had suggested his secure development lab, a place he referred to as the Vault, as the best place to do what they planned. “It’s almost as secure as the Bastion, and not as vulnerable as your labs in the Pyramid would be, and there’s a shard of the Master Matrix there, should we need its computing power. It’s quite well shielded too, so Nemesis shouldn’t be able to backtrack to us.”
After a quick return to the Pyramid to retrieve both the device the two heroes had been working on and Paragon, who had instantly agreed to be their guinea pig, Quanta had opened a quantum tunnel to a nondescript, three-story building on the AzTech campus. The signage indicated it was the Corporate Archives Building.
“Only three people work here, and none of them will be around at this hour,” he said as he unlocked the doors. “I usually get here via a classic secret passage (albeit a high-tech one, of course) from my old office, but there’s no point in going through all that at this hour.”
The elevator car comfortably held all eight people, with Chuck and Jonny in their human forms. Without looking, Álvaro selected a series buttons from the twenty unmarked ones on a hidden wall panel, and the elevator made a slight hissing sound as it began to move smoothly downward. After several minutes Scion was beginning to wonder just how deep this secret lab was… a minute more and they came to a smooth stop, the doors opening into darkness.
As de la Vega stepped out of the elevator, overhead lights flickered on, revealing a long, wide corridor. Afte passing through a scanner/decontamination alcove halfway down, the party came to a stop before a massive, high-tech door. It was flanked by two security robots unlike anything they’d seen on AzTech property before, each holding a large, alien-looking rifle. The sentinels lowered their weapons and stepped aside as Álvaro and the heroes approached, and the heavy double doors slid slowly, silently aside to reveal a large, windowless room.
The warehouse-like space was roughly 150 feet long and 120 feet wide, with a 40 foot ceiling. Indirect lighting made the room bright but not sterile. Well-organized and clearly well-used workstations and testing sites covered much of the floor, while racks filled with equipment, spare parts and other, less immediately identifiable, things lined the walls. To right of the entry was a glass-walled firing range.
But what instantly caught everyone’s attention was the large crystalline structure resting on a dais at the center of the room. Looking like a massive inverted icicle, it pulsed with a gentle white light and, based on what they’d just seen at the Bastion, was obviously an example of Seeker technology. Cables ran from it to various encircling computer stations, where several robotic technicians examined data on various screen. Bits and pieces of alien-looking technology were strewn throughout the room, apparently in various stages of being analyzed or experimented upon.
“Welcome to The Vault,” Álvaro said, the capital letters clear in his voice as he led them into the room. “For decades this has been the core of AzTech. This Vault sits very deep underground, as I’m sure you realize, and twenty feet of concrete and high-tech shielding separates the ceiling here from the sub-sub-basement of the building above. The only way in is the way we just came, and I’m the only living soul who has seen this room since it was built… until now.”
“So this is where the magic happens,” Quanta said, impressed despite himself. “And if that crystal is what I think it is… well, no wonder AzTech is on the cutting edge of technology.”
“As I said during my ‘origin story,’ the Hunter was instrumental in advancing my understanding in a great many fields, and when I built this lab he gave me a seed crystal of the Master Matrix, from which this shard grew. Not that he shares everything he knows with me, of course, and there’s plenty of tech he has shared that we both agree humanity is not yet ready for. But I like to be prepared,“ Álvaro laughed. “Now, shall we get started? I suspect time may be of the essence!”
They set up at a relatively clear station near the center of the room and the towering crystal shard, and for the next hour Álvaro, Scion, and Quanta were buried in techno-jargon and esoteric equipment, as they put the finishing touches on their device. Chuck and Jonny acted as heat sinks and welding torches as required, and Paragon offered an occasional, surprisingly cogent, suggestion.
Artemis, with nothing to contribute at this point, retired to meditate in the well-appointed bedroom of the living quarters beyond the firing range, obviously meant for Álvaro’s late night working sessions. Gideon convinced Cooper there was no point in their hanging around either, and dragged him off to play Destiny on the console they found in the living quarter’s media room.
It was 22:30 when they finally came up for air and figured they had something that should at least connect them to Nemesis, if not actually lead them to him. Agitating the crystalline structures in Paragon’s nervous system, while very painful for him, seemed to spread that pain along the subspace frequency that connected all the Changling’s infused nervous systems. They theorized that it should be possible to so agitate the crystals’ harmonics such that it would create a feedback loop, which should get Nemesis’ attention via whatever tech he was using to control the Changlings.
With Artemis and the others recalled to the lab, Scion flipped the switch on their cobbled together Sub-Etha Universal Feedback Loop Shockomatic 1000 device. Strapped securely into a reinforced diagnostic chair, Paragon twitched and clenched his jaw as the initial energy burst hit his system.
“You OK buddy?” Phantom Ace asked, frowning in concern. “Guys, maybe we should turn it down?”
Scion upped the Agitatometer Diala notch. Paragon ground his teeth and spasmed, but managed to spit out “Don’t stop!”
After a few minutes of increasing doses and escalating pain levels even Álvaro was ready to call it quits… and then the expression on Paragon’s face changed. Rather than in pain, he seemed more angry, and his body posture subtly shifted as well. And then his eyes filmed over with a silver sheen. He glared at the gathered heroes, and opened his mouth to speak –
His body jerked, wracked by another spasm as the machine jolted him again, cutting off his words in a shuddering gasp. As the spasm passed he drew in a breath and hissed “I am Nimrod. Are you going to stop whatever it is you’re doing… or do you actually want our young friend here to die?”
“Is that a threat?” Artemis asked coldly.
“Ha! No, merely a prediction. This damn feedback loop you’ve managed to create is causing me considerable pain even at this remove – I can only imagine what it’s doing to poor Eddie. You do know that he was a pimply faced, greasy-haired loser with an unfortunate overbite, working a dead-end job as a grocery store bag-boy before the Incident blessed him, yes?”
The voice was Paragon’s deep baritone, but pitched a trifle higher – and the cadences and rhythms were wholly different, unmistakably those of someone else. Everyone ignored the dig at Paragon, and after a moment he shrugged.
“I assume a couple of you brighter types have cobbled together some sort of Sub-Etha Universal Feedback Loop Shockomatic device,” he went on dryly, as Scion flipped off the device. “How very quaint. So, is there some point to this little exercise?” The possessing intelligence somehow managed to make Paragon’s face look more haughty, if not more beautiful.
“We have some questions for you,” Scion said, “and this seemed the only way we were likely to get a face-to-face, as it were.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Nemesis/Paragon sneered. “I have better uses for my time just now, but I confess, you’ve put me in a curious mood. So ask away… this may yet prove amusing, if nothing else.”
“Who are you?”Artemis asked, deciding to start slow, build up a rhythm.
“Oh, that’s good… start slow, build up a rhythm. Proper interrogation technique, good for you! Well, obviously, I’m Nimrod… I’ve decided it’s time for my return from the shadows, to finally bring order to this chaotic world!”
“You’re not the original Nimrod,” Artemis countered, hiding her irritation. “Or so we’ve been told by… a reliable source. Who are you really?”
“Oh, did Álvaro tell you that?” Nemesis rolled Eddie’s eyes in exaggerated exasperation. “And did he tell you why he’s so certain that I am not reallyNimrod? I rather suspect not… it’s much more his style to keep his minions in, if not absolute darkness, than at least deep shade.”
“Actually, he told us a fascinating tale, and provided some compelling evidence to back it up – Nemesis,” Artemis replied. “Or would you prefer for be called Caretaker?”
For a moment Eddie’s features were perfectly frozen, and then a flicker of irritation passed over them before he relaxed and smiled ruefully. “Well, so much for my divide-and-conquer ploy. Annoying, but at least if confirms a long-held suspicion of mine. If he knows those names, then Álvaro de la Vega is in fact my old friend’s latest meat puppet.”
“You didn’t already know that?” Álvaro asked, stepping into Paragon/Nemesis’ field of view for the first time. “We had assumed, given our nom’d crime, that you had figured it out years ago.”
“Ah, so you are here,” their guest’s smile widened, but his silvery eyes radiated malice. “How nice to “see” you, my old friend. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken directly. But to answer your question… I did, of course, suspect it was you beneath the Nimrod armor.
“But given your unfortunate philosophy of weakness, and your long history of always doing the right thing,” the contempt in his voice practically dripped, “as exemplified by that puerile “son” of yours, I couldn’t see you adopting such an anti-social persona as an actual ‘supervillain.’ I dropped the idea then, but kudos to you for finally waking up to all the possibilities.”
“I’m always aware of the possibilities,” the Hunter replied in Álvaro’s voice. Artemis, at least, had no trouble telling which mind inside de la Vega’s head was speaking at a given moment. “Unlike you, I just choose not take advantage of the worst ones. But in this case, a little property damage, ultimately in a just cause, was a price I was willing to pay to gain entrée to the criminal underworld through which you seem to move so smoothly.”
“For all the good it’s done you. You’ve still never managed penetrate any of my… interests.”
“As far as you know,” the Hunter replied with an enigmatic smile. “Your organizations are not quite as opaque to me as you imagine, Nemesis.”
“Please, that bluff is unworthy of you, Hunter. The truth is, for the last thirty years I’ve kept you and your various do-gooder super-friends, in their garish costumes, occupied with bright and shiny distractions, oblivious to my true agenda. Now we’re in the end game, and you’re clutching at straws.”
“Your end game? You mean your attempt to ravage humanity in an attempt to jump-start what you think is the next step in our evolution?nTo push what you imagine to be your creator’s agenda toward some delusional fulfillment? We know you were responsible for the Astoria Incident.”
Paragon/Nemesis shrugged. “I knew you’d recognize the Creator’s technology in the test run; indeed, I chose Astoria specifically because I suspected it was close to where you’ve hidden yourself and my stolen Master Matrix. I’d hoped to draw you out, perhaps even learn the location of your so-called Bastion. Congratulations, by the way, on the Donner ploy – I spent two decades and dozens of agents scouring both polar regions before I was sure it was a ploy.”
At the villain’s admission that it was responsible for the Incident, Quanta opened his mouth to demand an explanationp; a sharp look from Artemis, and a subtle shake of her head, kept him silent. The two ancient intelligences seemed to have forgotten their audience, and Artemis was quite certain they would learn more, from both of them, than they would if they were reminded of the Vanguard’s presence.
“And now, with the cache of matrix crystal you recovered from Porpoise Point, you intend to unleash a larger version of the Incident on the world, don’t you,” the Hunter accused. “How many will die this time, Nemesis?”
“If the numbers from the Astoria Test hold true, I’d estimate approximately 3.274 billion deaths outright, and another billion or so in combined collateral damage and non-viable mutations. But the survivors will have the power of the cosmos in their hands, the power the Creators foresaw in them more than 20,000 years ago.”
Even the Hunter seemed shocked at this casual revelation of the scope of Nemesis’ plan. “But… your’e talking about a global event? How… you couldn’t possibles have that much matrix crystal in your possession, even with that large chunk you just stole!”
“Stole?” Paragon/Nemesis seemed actually offended at the accusation. “I have a far better right to every fragment of matrix crystal on this planet than you, you murderous vandal, or anyone else! It was my physical body, after all, before you shattered it in your insane attempt to murder me.”
“To stop you from murdering millions of my people, you homicidal computer chip,” the Hunter/Álvaro snapped, growing heated as well. “And now you’re trying to do it again, killing even more of my people, and once again destroying human civilization.”
“You failed then, and you’ll fail now.” Paragon/Nemesis sneered. “Why do you remain so obsessed with individual human lives, much less human civilizations? In fifteen thousand years of living their mayfly lives over and over, again and again, have you not learned that they are only important in the aggregate? Individual lives are meaningless, and new civilizations always rise from the ashes of the old… usually better, stronger ones, thanks to me!”
“And in fifteen thousand years of living in mortal flesh and blood and bone, have you learned nothing of what makes humanity truly great?” The Hunter/Nimrod countered. “By crushing every host mind you take, have you then truly missed the value of empathy? Of compassion and selflessness? Of the infinite value of the potential that exists in every single human life?”
“It is precisely that potential which I have always striven to nurture, en masse, although you stubbornly refuse to see that,” Nemesis growled. “In the forge of my challenges the human race has risen steadily, century after century, towards the greatness for which they are destined – and now, at last, they are ready for the final transformation!”
“Nemesis – Caretaker – please, reconsider this plan of yours,” the Hunter pleaded, his anger fading into a weary melancholy. “I won’t deny that your work has pushed humanity forward, in some ways; but they haven’t been the best ways. If not for your emphasis on conflict and competition, what might humanity be today? If you had worked with me over the millennia, instead of opposing me? I don’t believe constant warfare is the inevitable fate of my people – the Atlanteans were a wise, generally peaceful people for a thousand years, before the Long War with the Saurians darkened and coarsened them. Humanity could be that again, if only you—“
“What would humanity be, if you had succeeded in destroying me, giving you free rein to mold them to your vision?” Nemesis’ own anger seemed to have passed as well, but not his intensity, and his hijacked body pushed against his restraints. “I will tell you what — they would be weak. Weak and, inevitably, little more than prey for all the powerful and dangerous forces in this universe of which you remain so blissfully ignorant. Safe in this cocoon of Earth, you have no concept of what is out there, Hunter, nor of how unprepared our people are to meet it. The Creators –“
“You have no more idea of what the Seekers wanted than I do,” the Hunter/Álvaro sighed. “You can’t even describe their physical forms, any more than anyone else who ever “saw” them… you’re just like the rest of us, completely in the dark about what they were, what drove them, what they were seeking.”
“So you’ve always insisted,” Paragon/Nemesis sounded irritated again. “But the fact is that your mortal mind simply could not understand my descriptions, any more than it could perceive the Creator’s true forms even when you were in their presence. Although I will grant you, in my current constrained form, limited to the minds and physical properties of these meat puppets I’m forced to endure, I doubt I will be able to fully perceive the Creators on their return to this world.
“But Hunter, you’re right – it’s not too late for us to join forces. Tell me where the Master Matrix is, let me back into my true home, and help me prepare the world for the next step. I am not… unwilling… to listen to your advice on ways to mitigate the collateral damage of my plan. Help me bring humanity to its full potential now, not in another 10,000 years, when it may well be too late.”
“Oh, Caretaker,” the Hunter said after a long pause, Álvaro’s face tightening in resignation and regret. “Still, you think me a fool. Limited to your human host, I doubt you can control billions of others, even if your insane plan were to succeed so far as to create that many new metas. But if you could reestablish yourself in the Master Matrix, then it would be simplicity itself to control such numbers. So, no, Nemssis — I am prepared to destroy the Bastion before I will let it fall into your hands again.”
Paragon/Nemesis’ face was still and expressionless for a moment, and then he sighed. There seemed real regret in his voice when he said “Very well Nimrod, for a short time longer we will play our old roles of Hunter and Adversary. But you are wrong about my ability to control billions — when my meta-human army is born, my consciousness will be distributed between those four billion minds, enhancing my power and my control. I will no longer need the Master Matrix – and you will no longer be able to hide it from me then, in any case. This conversation is over. Do not try to contact me this way again, it will not work a second—“
“Oh my god,” Artemis said, a sudden insight seizing her mind (and mouth) before she could fully analyze it. But the idea was clear and whole in her mind’s eye. “It was you, Caretaker! You’re the reason that that ancient hunter, Gor-Thûn, became “trapped” in the Seekers’ crystalline computers!”
Both Paragon/Nemesis and Álvaro/Hunter looked equally surprised, and their “What?!” was perfectly synchronized.
“It was something you said, a moment ago,” Artemis went on, the pieces continuing to fall into place in her thoughts. “Caretaker, you referred to humanity as “our people,” a slip of the tongue I’m sure, but a telling one. You’ve been absorbing human psyches for a dozen millennia or more, and you’ve come to be more like us than you want to admit. But I think you started out closer to us than you realize.
“You were created by the Seekers specifically for their mission to Earth… I’d guess not so very long before the Hunter was taken. You were young, and sentient, and… lonely. Your intelligence, while great, is clearly comparable to ours, which is why we are able to communicate – and I suspect your creators’ minds were almost as remote to you as they would be to us. You were lonely, and like any lonely child, you wanted a companion. A friend.”
“That is absurd!” Nemesis bellowed, Paragon’s face turning red with fury. “And impossible, my… programming, I suppose you would call it… prohibits me from creating other sentient AIs, beyond simply copies of myself. Your thesis is without—“
“I didn’t say you created a friend,” Artemis smiled at his obvious attempt at deflection. “I said you made one, in the usual way. Well, sort of. You couldn’t create a unique intelligence yourself, but you could help an existing intelligence find a way to survive within your matrix. I think you were even shy at first… that’s why you didn’t introduce yourself right away, and instead lurked around the edges of the Hunter’s mental world. Suddenly, all the pieces of the story the Hunter told us make sense – your teaching, your mentorship, your protection of your friend from the notice of your masters…”
Nemesis had regained control of Paragon’s features, and he stared stonily at Artemis, refusing to meet the questioning gaze of Álvaro/Hunter. “You humans are good at seeing patterns, even where they do not, in fact, exist. You are mistaken. But even if you weren’t it would be of no consequence at this late date; this “friendship” you hypothesis would have ended the day the human betrayed me and did his best to destroy me. And perhaps it’s time to return the favor!”
Nemesis flexed Paragon’s muscles, and the restraints holding him in the examination chair snapped. In a blur he was up and moving – not toward Álvaro and his psychic passenger, but instead lunging at Artemis. Before his hands could connect with her throat, however, his body stiffened and jerked to a stop. A seizure seemed to wrack him, and then his eye’s rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the floor.
“He’s gone,” Scion said, holding up a tricorder-sized device in one hand. “Nemesis, that is. Eddie is just unconscious, but he should be fine in a minute or two. I think.”
“What did you do?” Artemis and the Hunter asked at the same time. “And whatever it was, thank you,” Artemis added.
“It’s a variation on the device we used to connect Eddie’s mind to Nemesis’ via the psychic subspace connection the crystal’s in his nervous system creates. We used the larger device to stimulate the harmonics and cause the minds on both ends of the connection to experience pain. I modified this baby to actually sever the connection, by permanently altering the vibrational frequency of the crystal matrix in Eddie’s nervous system.”
“Permanently?” Gideon asked, looking suddenly concerned. “Will that affect his powers?”
“I don’t think so,” Quanta replied. “We theorized that it was a specific frequency that was allowing the connection and the overriding of the Changeling’s wills, and that it had nothing to do with the manifestation of the powers themselves. But we should know in a minute, Eddie’s starting to come around.”
With a groan Eddie sat up, rubbing his temples with shaking hands. The others could see that the silver sheen had faded from his eyes. He pulled himself up to collapse back into the chair, clearly somewhat dazed and confused. “I think… I got the… gist of that,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly. “But maybe someone could fill me in on the details…?”
As Gideon and Jonny took turns filling the gaps in his memory of the past 20 minutes, Quanta and Scion ran a few tests on the youth, occasionally interrupting to ask their subject a question or test a reflex. It seemed that Eddie was still Paragon, as strong, fast, intelligent and good-looking as before the experiment.
Gideon and Jonny led Paragon off to the living quarters to sleep it off, while Quanta, Scion and de la Vega set to work on creating a more powerful, wide-area version of the device to sever Nemesis‘ control of the Changlings.
• • • • • •
Twelve hours later Scion straightened up from his work bench, stretching his back and yawning. “I think we’re close,” he said, turning the deceptively simple-looking device before him around on its turntable, examining it critically.
“Yes,” Quanta agreed, yawning in turn as he input the latest test results into the computer. “Another hour, at most, and I think we’ll be ready to field test the neural frequency realignment array.”
“Maybe,” Álvaro/Nimrod qualified, trying to stifle his own yawn. “Depends on if we can properly align the epsilon frequencies with the sub-space matrix of the –”
He broke off at the sudden jolt that shook the chamber, looking around in surprise. “What the hell –”
A second, stronger jolt felt like a giant had kicked the Vault, and was immediately followed by a continuous humming vibration that quickly ran up the scale, from bass rumble to ear-piercing shriek. The floor heaved beneath their feet, racks and shelves toppled over, computers crashed to the floor and robots flailed about trying to maintain their own balance while simultaneously attempting to catch the falling tech.
Phantom Ace, who had been in the process of idly stealing a robotic hand from a repair station in a far corner of the chamber, dropped it instantly, thinking he’d triggered an alarm of some sort. Artemis and the others rushed out from the luxurious living quarters where they’d been variously napping or gaming just as a series of cracks appeared in the ceiling. Growing almost faster than the eye could follow, the cracks became massive fissures, and an instant later the whole ceiling ripped away and began to rise away from them…
Debris, mostly in the form of dirt, concrete and rebar, began to rain down into the chamber, forcing everyone to dodge wildly to avoid being crushed. Several robots were crushed as they protected de la Vega, who zig-zaggged to a control console next to the matrix shard. A few clicks brought a shimmering forcefield into existence around the central work area, protecting both himself and the alien crystal.
As the ceiling receded upward a rim of blue morning sky could be seen far above – and at the same instant half a dozen figures began to drop down the makeshift shaft into the Vault. Silver-eyed and expressionless, the obviously mind-controlled Changlings leapt to the attack.
“You are mine now, old friend,” they all called out in a synchronized cry of triumph. “You and this bastard bit of the Master Matrix!”
“Damn! Nemesis was able to track us back after all,” Quanta yelled over the roar of the collapsing structure, the comms suddenly useless, overwhelmed with static. “We can’t let him take Álvaro!”
“He wants the matrix shard!” Álvaro screamed back, hefting a plasma rifle dropped by one of his ruined robots. “We can’t let him have it!”
The zombie-Changelings included a raggedy white haired man who looked like a derelict, his power apparently to puff himself up and then release a cloud of toxic gas; a fat, doughy young man who appeared to be as pliable and stretchable as bread dough; a dark-clad Asian woman who hovered on a cloud of static electricity, eyes glowing electric blue; a man in a dark fedora and leather duster, his face mime-white with eyes and lips outlined in black, a Desert Eagle .44 in each hand and an aura of fear around him – Artemis recognized him as a recent vigilante calling himself Justiciar; a young woman dressed in stylish office clothes and high heels; and finally a young man Totem recognized as the so-called Silver Sorcerer – a former street magician turned aspiring super villain who insisted his new powers were magical, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
There were also one familiar face in the crowd – Washout, the only one of Nemesis’ minions to escape the heroes at Porpoise Point. Once again under mind-control, he moved with the Silver Sorcerer toward Álvaro, while their companions engaged the other heroes and the AzTech robots. The latter had gone into battle mode, and their glowing blue eyes now flared a brilliant red.
Totem, seeing this, decided to leave the Silver loony to Artemis, who stood in his path, and went after Washout. While the more scientifically-minded of his teammates had been working on a technological solution to the mind-control problem, he had spent the time working on creating a magical artifact that might do the trick. Now he pulled out the construction of leather, glass beads and an owl feather and concentrated on how he was going to get it on the idiot surfer dude’s head…
Phantom Ace and Artemis meanwhile tag-teamed the Silver Sorcerer, who turned any weapon hurled at him into clouds of butterflies or soap bubbles – until he was distracted by a feint from Phantom Ace, and Artemis was able to daze him with a hard kick to the head.
Scion, shrugging off pieces of falling concrete and rock, aimed a fusillade of stun rounds at the woman floating on the cloud of electrons, only to see them fall inert at her feet. Her return attack, fortunately, was equally ineffective against him – he sensed the power in his armor momentarily flicker, then recover, and realized she was generating an EMP. But since his armor was powered by his own mutant bioelectric field her EMP was unable to kill it.
Gideon and Chuck had been inside the radius of the force field dome when de la Vega’s had activated it. “Stay in your human form,” the billionaire/ancient hunter called out to Chuck, taking shots at their foes through the shield. “Your powers would be blocked by the force field, but my weapons are calibrated to fire through it from inside. Grab a blaster and start firing!”
But at that moment the plug of earth that Nemesis had somehow lifted up from above them began to move aside, and the Blue Flame could see that the entire three-story Corporate Archives building was also being lifted up – and falling apart around the edges! At least two people clung to shattered window frames and walls… they were beginning to fall! Without another thought he poured on the power and flashed up and out of the Vault.
Doughboy, meanwhile, was battering away at the forcefield surrounding Álvaro and the matrix shard, hurling dead robots and pieces of concrete into it. Elsewhere around the room the kaleidoscopic battle raged on, robots, heroes, and zombie-changelings all battering away at one another. Totem, after being knocked aside by a water blast from Washout, passed his magical artifact off to Phantom Ace, who managed, finally, to phase in close enough to afix the device to the villain’s head.
That was when the tide began to turn – once the flash of green light flared around his head, Washout’s eyes lost their silver sheen and he was himself again… and very unhappy to find himself again in the middle of a battle with the Vanguard. He turned and blasted himself up on a pillar of water, out of the Vault and the fight. After that, with Artemis‘ whip and shadow sticks, Chilz‘ and Quanta’s walls, rams and spears, Totem’sSleeping Mists, and Scion’s technological might, each of the invaders were quickly subdued.
The Blue Flame, meanwhile, had realized he wasn’t sure how to save the falling people, being unable to touch them without severely burning them. Then a sudden flash of inspiration hit, and he pushed himself to his top speed, whirling in a tight circle beneath the unnaturally floating building, increasing his heat output as much as he dared. The resulting updraft of heated air slowed the falling AzTechworkers enough that their landings were, if not exactly soft, at least non-lethal.
Once the immediate threat to lives was past, the Blue Flame took a closer look at the flying building… he could now see the faint violet beam that lanced down from the sky to envelope the structure and the land beneath it. A tractor beam! Forcing himself to suppress the thought that this really was incredibly cool, he considered how he might stop it without harming any people who remained inside. This was, of course, a building built by a former super villain, in a world long filled with superhuman threats – Álvaro had explained once that all his company’s major structures had insanely reinforced panic rooms at their core. Hopefully anyone else in the building had safely retreated there once the attack began…
Before he could decide on any particular course of action, however, the tractor beam cut out. The Blue Flame estimated the building was 40 feet in the air and approximately 100 feet east of its original location. It was also partially over the four lanes of Canal Avenue that ran along the east side of AzTech campus, he realized. Several thousand tons of earth, concrete, steel and glass crashed down onto the road in an instant that seemed to stretch out in slow motion to the horrified hero.
Fortunately, the people of Astoria had been growing increasingly savvy about these sorts of things since the Indicent, and the light mid-morning Saturday traffic had ground to a halt in both directions when the flying building had first appeared over the trees. When the building landed, shattering the roadway and sending up a cloud of dust and debris, no cars were directly beneath it. The structure itself, although cracked and slightly torqued, held together… in moments people were rushing from their cars to offer aid to any people still inside.
The Blue Flame barely had time to note the swell of pride he felt at the people of his city before a second beam, thinner and more bluish in color, shot down from the summer sky and into the hole above de la Vega’s Vault. Arcing around to get a view into the pit, he saw that the new tractor beam had latched onto the forcefield around the billionaire and the crystal shard. The energy shield flared, sparked and died. He saw Quanta throw one of his silvery shields over the fragment, but it shattered almost instantly, torn apart by the beam. The alien crystal began to move slowly upward…
I always did want to see if I could make orbit, Jonny thought as he turned skyward and poured on more power than he ever had before. And its not like I breathe now, when I’m like this! He raced into the sky beside the shimmering alien beam, and in seconds he was nothing more than a pinprick of light to those watching from below…
Meanwhile, in the shattered remains of the Vault, Paragon had grabbed hold of one end of the matrix crystal as it began to rise, his feet locked beneath a raised slab of the cracked floor. His muscles strained, ripping his shirt at the biceps, and he managed to hold the piece in place. The whine of the tractor beam increased in pitch as its strength increased… the piece began to rise again… Scion, dropping the unconscious form of Doughboy, grabbed the other side of the crystal, and exerted the full power of his synthetic muscles as well as his own considerable physical strength. The shard stopped once again.
“Ace,” called Scion. “Can you make this damn thing intangible? If the tractor beam has nothing to grab onto…”
“Sorry boss,” the younger man frowned. “That’s way more mass than I can affect. Sorry.”
As the whine of the beam began to climb into the ultrasonic range Totem made several mystic gestures and the glowing green bands of his Baleful Bindings spell wrapped around the matrix shard, then dug themselves into the cracked flooring beneath it. The shard remained immobile.
“Hang on guys, I think I’ve almost got this,” Quanta called out. He was fiddling with a piece of equipment on a nearby bench, and after a final adjustment he held up what looked like a high-tech dowsing rod. He aimed it at the tractor beam and pushed a button… nothing visible happened, but the bluish beam suddenly wavered and then shattered into a million silvery bits before vanishing altogether.
“Ha! I just needed to calculate the proper quantum interference pattern to dissipate the beam. As our friend Nemesis would say, child’s play!”
“Good job Quanta!” Scion said as he and Paragon set the matrix shard back into its base unit. “Álvaro, is there any way to secure this thing while we go after Nemesis?”
“Emergency backup power is coming online… now!” Álvaro replied, focusing intently on several screens at once. “With power back I can operate the Vault’s systems again, and place the shard into its stasis chamber beneath us… that may be enough to shield it from Nemesis.” He frowned at something on the screen. “Or maybe not. Without knowing the full extent of the alien’s powers, I’m just guessing about the capabilities of Ebony Night’s ship, which I’m assuming is behind this.”
“Do your best,” Scion replied, then grabbed Artemis and Paragon. “We’ve got to get up there and see if we can confront NemesisandEbony Night before they can regroup.” With that he blasted the three of them upward. Phantom Ace grabbed Quanta and Totem, teleporting them topside with him, while Chilz rose on a pillar of ice.
Scores of people were swarming over the area around the hole and the newly relocated building, aiding the injured or just staring in awe at the carnage. A great many were staring skyward, and it didn’t take long to realize where the Blue Flame had gone, and why.
“Can he even make orbit?” Chilz asked, frowning in concern. “Wouldn’t he have to achieve escape velocity or something?”
Scion had just started to answer when there was a sudden flare of black light. They all felt their stomaches lurch, as if they were suddenly in an elevator in freefall… and then they slammed to a sudden stop, even though they hadn’t actually moved at all.
A cool breeze washed over the group, who stood momentarily deaf, dumb, blind and disoriented. As their senses cleared they quickly realized they were no longer where they had been. The AzTech campus was gone, replaced by… what could only be called an alien cityscape…
Beautiful, impossibly tall spires soared up all around a broad plaza, in the center of which the Vanguard, and Paragon, now stood, the Blue Flame hovering in the air above them. Graceful ramps connected the various buildings at different levels and balconies looked out into a night sky filled with unfamiliar constellations. It took a moment to realize that some of those points of light in the dark heavens were not fixed, but rather moving and flaring… and dying …
The most obvious thing the heroes noticed, however, was the gravity – it was slightly less than they were used to. Not much less, but enough to give them all a sense of sudden buoyancy…
It was the muttering and call of voices in an unfamiliar language that drew the group’s attention back to their immediate surroundings… a number of people in the plaza were slowly backing away from them… some looked human, save for the occasional green or blue hair, while others had pale green or blue skin, or small antennae, or pointed ears… but however alien their looks or garb might have been, the expressions of concern, the glancing or pointing upwards and then back down at the newcomers, seemed human enough…
“I don’t think –” Phantom Ace began.
“No! Don’t say it!” Quanta interrupted him, rubbing his temples.
“Really, there’s hardly likely to be a more appropriate time for it,” Artemis sighed, shrugging. Scion just shook his head, staring around in amazement… and thinking of his grandfather.
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore!” Despite his attempt at a grin, Phantom Ace’s voice quavered just bit as he said it…
Isobel Dixon Memorial Hospital and Vanguard HQ, Astoria, OR Thursday 11 July 2019 — 21:09
When the black cloaked and hooded figure stepped out of the deep shadows in the corner of his hospital room, the Gaoler was not surprised. Indeed, he had expect just such a visit sometime this evening, and had specifically asked the nurse to leave the lights off. “Good evening, Artemis,” he said quietly. No need to alert the nurses – or the two police officers posted just outside the door.
“Good evening Thomas,” she replied equally sotto voce. “I see you’ve been expecting me… although I rather expected to find you in the ICU.”
He smiled at her technique. Assume familiarity with the subject, put them at ease, throw them off guard, a solid tactic. For the guilty. “I prefer Gaoler, actually. I haven’t thought of myself as Thomas Desolano in… quite some time now. And your shaman does good work. After a little emergency surgery I was deemed well enough for this room in the High Security Ward.”
The lights of the medical monitors glinted in her emerald green eyes, and she smiled very slightly, nodding in acknowledgment. “As you wish, Gaoler. Although you may want to reconsider the wisdom of surrendering your humanity to your job. It is possible to do the one without giving up the other… and healthier, in the long run.”
That left him briefly nonplussed, but he shook it off with a dismissive wave of the hand unencumbered by the blood oxygen monitor. “I take it by your presence here, so soon after our last meeting, that you and your friends have taken care of that psychopathic little poltergeist Lazarus? Is he still… extant?”
Artemis shrugged. “For a given value of “extant,” yes. That little Box of the Gilead you provided proved quite useful, and his spirit is now safely imprisoned within. The Box and its contents occupies a high self in your Secure Vault tonight. Oh, and the rest of your “guests” remain in their accommodations as well, should you be wondering.”
Gaoler raised an eyebrow at that. “I would have thought you heroes would have stashed the Box in whatever trophy room your kind keep in your posh headquarters. Not to mention repatriating at least some of my prisoners. Does this mean—“
“Yes, we intend to return your Master Key to you,” Artemis cut him off, pulling the Key from a pouch at her waist. Never taking her eyes off his, she held it out, just beyond his grasp. Damn, there really was something inherently intimidating about her, and he didn’t think it was just that cloak of hers, however much his magic-trained eyes had trouble focusing on it. But he knew how to deal with intimidation, and he wasn’t bad at it himself. He didn’t reach for the Key.
“There are conditions, I assume?”
Artemis shrugged and stepped forward, dropping the gently-glowing artifact on its chain into his lap. He blinked in surprise, but quickly picked it up. “We recognize the difficulty of enforcing any agreement you didn’t enter into willingly, so why bother with imposing conditions? We are willing, however, to assume that you are a man of honor, and would trust you to abide by whatever mutually acceptable decisions we might come to, after reasonable discussion.”
“That is… unexpected. Usually you hero-types are so rigidly upright and inflexible… self-defeatingly so, I’ve often thought. So, what is it you might suggest?”
“What we would like most, is for you to stop taking people off the street who haven’t yet been tried for, much less convicted of, any crime. However certain you are of their guilt, let the justice system determine the fact of it. Essentially, act as a kind of bounty hunter, if you will, but leave the judgement and punishment to the courts.”
“That seems rather a lot to ask… and would leave the Cellblock rather empty.” He frowned as he hung the Master Key’s chain around his neck, letting the artifact rest on his breastbone. “And pointless. Even when the justice system actually works, you know as well as I that earthly prisons cannot hold some of the monsters they do manage to convict, not for long. And, at least in the West, they won’t deliver the ultimate penalty, even when it’s actually possible to do so.”
“I’m not going to debate the morality of the death penalty with you,” Artemis frowned herself, taking two steps back toward the shadows. “At least you haven’t crossed that line yourself, which is why we may yet reach some accommodation. As we’ve seen for ourselves in our visit to your Cellblock, you clearly have some method of circumventing many of the safeguards in even the Super Max prisons – hardly surprising, I suppose, given that you helped design most of them.
“So, if you were to take those convicted of the worst crimes, the ones most dangerous and difficulttohold, AFTER they have been properly convicted and sentenced, well… we cannot condone it, officially, of course. But we can choose to… de-prioritize such events. I suspect the US Government might also be willing to consider a similar unofficial stance in certain cases. Especially if you are willing to provide some method of contacting you, should the return of a particular prisoner be required — and your willingness to accommodate that request.”
The Gaoler was silent for a long moment, as he considered Artemis’ words. It was true, with the Key back in his possession he could now simply open a doorway and vanish. After she was gone, of course — for all his offhanded words about his health, in truth he was in no shape for another fight just then. But the Vanguardhad saved him the months of effort, and from a prison cell, it would have taken him to recreate the artifact… and they had shown some good faith by leaving Lazarus imprisoned within the Cellblock… and by not releasing his other inmates.
He had in fact decided, some time ago, that he should be focusing his efforts on the most dangerous of meta-human and supernaturalcriminals. As much as corrupt or inept politicians and business people infuriated him, they truly were an intractable problem beyond his ability to deal with effectively. In general, he’d come to the realization that the so-called People would have to deal with that problem for themselves. But they needed to be alive, and not living in terror, to do so.
“Very well, Artemis,” he said, holding out his hand. “I think I can live with that arrangement, if you can.”
•• •• ••
“I take it you didn’t mention the fact that Quanta and I managed to make a copy of his Master Key,” Totem said a short time later, as the Vanguard gathered in the Ready Room to hear Artemis’ report on her visit to the Gaoler.
“I didn’t see the need,” Artemis shrugged. “He’s a smart man, however narrow his vision; I’m sure he assumes we’ve found some way of making sure we can come after him, if the necessity arises. Oh, and I expect we’ll be getting a—“
She was interrupted by the flashing of the red notification light from Dispatch. “Vanguard, we’ve just received word from SHADE. It seems the Gaoler has somehow escaped from the High Security Ward at Dixon Memorial.”
“Well, we’re committed now,” Quanta sighed. “I hope we don’t regret this. So, who gets to pop over and pretend to look for the nutter?”
“I suppose I am the logical choice, given the known magical nature of the Gaoler’s powers,” Totem sighed. “I know we want to contract Sabra regarding the Golden Helm, but it can wait until morning – we all need a good night’s sleep, it’s been a long day. The Powers-That-Be know we don’t need to face the kind of potential threat Dolórüska represents at anything less than our best.”
“I’ll come with you,” Scion said, his helmet flowing back up to cover his head. “The rest of you, get some sleep. We’re going to start hunting for that damn helmet bright and early in the morning.”
•• •• ••
It was agreed that best way to begin the search probably involved contacting Sabra, in the Dark World, although not everyone felt entirely comfortable with that. Nonetheless, after the catering staff had cleared away the remains of breakfast, Totem pulled out the Cheval Mirror and activated the arcane device.
“I’m guessing it’ll be another mystical Zoom call,” Chilz whispered to the Blue Flame.
Shortly after establishing a connection, the Vanguard once again found themselves in a misty void… today it was cool and gray, like an autumn afternoon following a good rain. Each of heroes stood on their own disk of what looked to be ancient stone, worn and softened with age, each one about a meter across.
The disks containing Totem, Artemis and Scion floated slightly ahead of, and a bit higher than, those of the rest of the team. Sabra herself stood atop an impressive stone pillar, easily three meters wide, which rose up from the mists just a bit higher than any of her guests’ disks. She was dressed in dark gray robes, trimmed in royal blue, and her black hair fell loose about her shoulders, bound only by the band of filigreed silver on her brow. She nodded graciously to her guests, a slight bow of her head.
“Totem, my Vanguard friends, how lovely it is to see you again so soon! I assume it is that massive spike in mystical energy that we felt, even across the dimensional planes, that is the reason for your visit today?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Totem replied, frowning. Perhaps it was just his recent, disconcerting conversation with Quanta, but something about his friend seemed just a little off. Not just the change in clothes, but her attitude… despite the friendly words, she seemed just a little… impatient, maybe?
Shrugging off his concerns, Totem gave Sabra a quick rundown of the Vanguard’s recent encounters with the machinations of the disembodied spirit of Killer Tot, ending with directly confronting him in the Cellblock as he struggled with the malevolent Atlantean artifact.
“…and it vanished the instant his full attention was pulled from it. Presumabley taking itself back to Earth, assuming our theory about it being an unintentional Arcane Ward, like Roland’s other, purpose-built ones.”
“Arcane Wards, eh?” Sabra actually smiled at that. “That’s so very Roland! I suppose I should be a little offended, that he thought I would need that kind of protection; after all, as it turned out I did just fine in preventing Varina from conquering Earth. With a little help from my friends, of course.” For a moment Totem saw his old friend in her face, as she’d always been. But the moment passed quickly, and her faced quickly darkened into a frown.
“But the Golden Helm of Dolórükas the Damed! That is a fearsome artifact, and much too dangerous to be left out in the world. While it’s true that Dolórüska cannot actually control the Helm while his spirit is trapped within it, I suspect in this instance he could at least influence where it appeared on its return to its native plane… and once here – that is, there – he can call out to receptive souls around him. And then, all bets are off…
“I’m very disappointed that you let it slip through your grasp… I expected better of you all by now!”
“I beg your pardon, young lady?” Artemis said coldly. Sabra’s frown deepened into a scowl at her tone. “As I believe Totem made very clear, the Helm was gone before we were even truly aware of it. And we realize full well the gravity of the situation, which is why we are here, consulting you. But if you have nothing to offer beyond insults…”
Sabra reddened, and for a moment she seemed her age, a young woman struggling in waters out of her depth. But she quickly got control of her features, and nodded stiffly to Artemis.
“My apologies, of course… that was uncalled for. But I hope you understand my deep concern in this matter. While I may no longer be the Magus Prime of our world, I nonetheless feel the pull of those responsibilities, even here.
“While I am concerned about who this “dark lady” of Percy Lazarus’ might be, the Golden Helm is the more immediate threat. This must be your top priority! Nothing else matters — you must find and recover the Helm at once!”
Before Artemis, or anyone else, could respond she seemed to realize she was being high-handed again, and quickly went on, directing herself to Totem.
“Cooper, I imagine that, with the increased power you absorbed from that incident with the Prime Element gem, you are especially attuned to the Earth just now… with that connection, between us I believe we can pinpoint the general area where the Helm returned to the Material Plane. If you’re willing to try.”
“Of course, Atara,” Totem nodded. “As Artemis said, that is why we’re here. I’m still struggling to integrate this new power, but I think you’re right, I definitely feel the presence of the Earth more strongly…”
At a gesture from Sabra, Totem’s disk floated up until it was even with her pillar, and he stepped off it to join her. A few minutes of quiet discussion, a joining of hands, and then a murmured ritual incantation – suddenly both sets of eyes took on a silver sheen, and it seemed the two mages looked out on vistas the others could not see.
“Yes, it pulses like an open wound.” Sabra said. “Can you see it, Küng?”
“Yes,” he answered almost absently. “It is in… New Atlantis, yes… somewhere south of LakeTisqunatum…?
“Yes, and certainly on the west side of the Mullica River…” Sabra’s face took on a sardonic look. “Hardly surprising he would choose to return there, I suppose… so very many defeats suffered there to be avenged!”
After one last urgent admonition from Sabra to hurry and recover the Golden Helm before something truly dire happened, the mystical Zoom call faded away around the Vanguard, leaving them standing about the Round Table in their Ready Room.
“Yes, I know what you’re going to say,” Totem cut off Quanta as his teammate started to speak. “She was short tempered and high-handed. But when we were in communion, looking for the mystical hot-spot created by the Helm, I was in contact with her mind – I sensed nothing of Varina, or of anyone else. It’s just her in her head… and a great deal of stress and anxiety.
“I can’t say she isn’t changing, that’s obvious, but it’s also inevitable, under the circumstances. I plan to keep an eye on the situation, but I’m certain that your suspicions about her being Lazarus’ “dark lady” are incorrect.”
Quanta exchanged a look with Artemis, and shrugged. “If you say so, Cooper. You’re in a better position to know her mind than any of us. Maybe she’s just irritated with us because she thinks she could do a better job of managing this stuff than we’ve been doing.”
“Hmmm, what doesn’t she think she’s better than us at doing?” Scion laughed from where he was punching in the codes to remote-start the Interceptor.
“Losing fights, I suppose,” Quanta said with a grin. “But seriously, I hope you do keep an eye on her, Cooper… it really does seem like every time we see her, she’s just a little bit darker.”
•• •• ••
The sub-orbital flight from Oregon to New Jersey was quick and uneventful. It was just after noon, the sun glinting off the gold-hued marble of the Eternal Sentinel statue and the towers of the city across the harbor, as the Interceptor approached the roof-top landing pad on Alliance Hall. Scion, who had been scanning the local police frequencies in search of any unusual activity in the Southbank and Hollows districts, had a sudden hit.
“Cooper, didn’t you say you had a contact we should check out in Southbank? A place called Island Herbal?” he asked as they set down.
“Yes, Maire Otando runs the place… it’s a little import shop that sells various Caribbean brands, as well as herbs, candles, charms, and Voodoo religious items. It’s also an ounfò, a temple for the local Voodoo community and she’s its mambo… a religious leader. I think it’s a good place to start with, Madame Marie has always had her finger on the pulse of the street, both mundane and arcane, in her part of the city.”
“Well, you may be right,” Scion said, “I don’t really believe in signs, but I just found this on the scanners – Island Herbal was robbed last night, and a related police report from about an hour ago indicates that a young man who had been tending the shop, a college student named TylerAttah, has been reported missing by his family, having never returned home after work at the shop last night.”
“That’s pretty surprising, actually… most of the local community are deeply protective of the place, and most of the petty crooks in Southbank fear Madame Marie’s reputation. As far as I know, the last time someone tried to rob it was more than a decade ago… and the guy who tried has been in Ravencliff Asylum ever since.
“So yes, I think we should check it out first. The shop is located on MLK Jr. Blvd, between JamaicaAvenue and GrenadaStreet. Can you open one your tunnels that far, Quanta?”
“Yeah, it’s only about three miles from here,” Quanta said, glancing at the city map on the holodisplay. “No problem.”
A few minutes later the Vanguard stepped out of Quanta’s shimmering silver portal onto a sidewalk in the working class district of Southbank. Neither the pedestrians on the wide, cracked pavement nor the six lanes of traffic streaming by on MLK, Jr. Blvd seemed to give them a second glance in the shimmering heat of the summer afternoon.
“Welcome to New Atlantis,” Chilz laughed, as they approached the glass doors to Island Herbal.
A “Sorry, We’re Closed, Please Call Again” sign hung crookedly in one door, but they were unlocked, and the heroes stepped into the shadowy shop… which was turned end-over-end. Loose papers and herbs covered the tables and floor, display cases were smashed, and mysterious stains and broken glass were everywhere.
“Don’t touch anything!” a middle-aged Black woman in colorful Caribbean skirts and a white blouse called out urgently from near the back of the space. “It’s not safe!” In safety gloves and a head wrap, she appeared to be carefully picking through the debris, a bandage obscuring part of her face.
“Madame Marie, it’s good to see you again,” Totem said, making his way through the wreckage toward his old acquaintance. “I’ve come with some friends, to see if you can help us.” He quickly introduced his teammates. “We can help you clean up, and then maybe you–“
“No, no, please don’t try to help… it’s very kind of you all, dear… and it’s good to see you, too,” the woman sighed and set down the large garbage bag she’d been filling. “But some of this is dangerous stuff, it’s best left to those who understand it to clean up! It was just a smash and grab… seems like that sort of thing is happening more and more around here these days.”
“Well, surely it was more than that, ma’am,” Artemis said. “I understand from the police report that one of your employees is missing… a Tyler Attah.”
“Police report?” The woman seemed momentarily flustered. “But… I haven’t filed a police report yet… I’m still trying to figure out what’s missing, as I clean up.”
“Ah, well, Tyler’s family filed a missing persons report this morning,” Scion offered, a bit distractedly. His sensors automatically scanned everyone he encountered, and he was getting a slightly odd reading off the woman. “Never came home, apparently, after working here last evening.”
“Oh, Tyler… but I haven’t seen her in several days, actually… that girl has just never been very reliable, if the truth be told.”
Everyone stiffened slightly at that, and Totem started to say something, but Quanta waved him back, stepping up to the older woman’s side.
“It looks like you were injured yourself,” he said, glancing at the mass of bandaging on the left side of her face. “Did the thieves do this to you?”
“Yes, they were quite violent,” she said, stepping back a nervous half step. “But it’s nothing, really… I just wanted to keep it covered while I cleaned.”
“Still, perhaps if I take a look… I’m pretty good at healing up physical trauma, I could at least take care of that problem for you.” Quanta reached out to touch the wrapping, and Madame Marie jumped back — three meters in a single leap. As the surprised heroes stared, her features flickered, flowed, and then steadied into a golden-eyed reptilian face, her skin suddenly greenish and scaly, and her hands gaining wicked-looking claws.
“A Serpent Person!” Totem cried, shocked into momentary inaction.
But Quanta had been prepared for something like this, and he was on her almost before the transformation was complete. The reptiloid was fast, however, and she grabbed at his arm, yanking him toward her. A mouth full of razor-sharp teeth opened wide and clamped down where his neck met his left shoulder… but they were unable to pierce the material of his quantum shell.
With a furious hiss, she shoved him away then, and leaped over an overturned table to her left, making for the front of the shop. The Blue Flame, reluctant to fully transform inside the shop, sent a blast of azure plasma at her, and while mystic sigils flared around her and absorbed most of the flame, she had definitely felt it.
Her leap over the last shattered counter between her and the front door was clumsy, and she staggered on landing. Artemis’ somersault over the same counter was anything but clumsy, and she came down on “Madame Maries’s” back. The imposter slammed hard into the floor, and before she could regain her feet Artemis had her in a choke hold.
When the Saurian’s struggles had faded into feeble twitching, Artemis tightly zip-tied it at wrists and ankles. It was always difficult to tell with Saurians what gender they were just by outward appearance, but she had an intuition that this one might actually be female.
By the time the creature began to revive, Totem had added mystical bindings to its, maybe her, restraints. He was taking no change on any teleportation spells at this point. “Where is the real Madame Marie?” he barked at the prisoner, looming over her with all the menace he could muster. The Saurian just glared at him and hissed.
“Totem, my sensors are picking up labored breathing, and an irregular heartbeat from a back room, there,” Scion said, pointing to the door marked Employees Only. “Why don’t you go see if it’s your friend; whoever it is, help them, OK?”
With a curt nod the shaman turned and headed for the back room, which he knew housed the ounfò, the voodoo alter, of his friend. Artemis took his place, pulling the glaring Saurian up into a sitting position and propping her against a cabinet. She leaned in close as she did so.
“Tell us who you are, and your purpose here, lizard, or I’ll rip those scales off of you one by one. And you may be sure I will do so very, VERY slowly. We have all the time in the world, you and I…” A small blade was suddenly in her hand, and she ran it lightly along the side of the creature’s face.
For the first time the Serpent Person’s glaring mask slipped, and it seemed suddenly uncertain. It quickly regained some composure, however, and gave a very human-like shrug.
“Fine,” it hissed. “You mammals will never be able to stop it now anyway! I am Sineerie, Lesser Priestess of the Ophidian Cult. We are the true heirs of lost Lemuria… and the exterminators of cursed Atlantis and all its wretched legacy!
“The prophetic dreams of High Priest Astarmis brought us to the Golden Helm when it manifested itself. Dolórüska’sHelm is ours now, and so we have the old Atlantean heretic at our mercy! We will use the Helm to place his spirit in a mortal vessel — and then we shall annihilatebody, helm, and foul soul all together, finally ridding ourselves of the ancient enemy once and for all time!”
Her snake-like golden eyes narrowed suddenly, and she sneered at Raven, lurking in the shadows behind his comrades. Totem had found the real Madame Marie bound, gagged, and groggy, but alive, next to her alter. A quick Spell of Healing had cleared the remaining Saurian venom from her system, and once he was sure she was OK he had summoned Raven. His ability to seize and read minds might prove very useful, he’d thought as he stalked back out to the main room.
“I can feel you in my head, fumbling about, little human godling,” Sineerie laughed. “Your pathetic powers will never be enough to pierce my mental shields. But as I said, there is no need – you cannot stop us at this point, although I hope you try. My brethren will enjoy killing you all, on top of our greatvictory! Ask your questions, I will answer them.”
“Where is Tyler Attah, the human you took from this place last night,” Artemis asked, still crouched in front of the Saurian priestess. “Is he still alive? Why did you take him?”
“Ah, the mammal apprentice had a name? No matter. We needed a mystically inclined vessel to host Dolórüska’s spirit, and that one would serve well enough, just as the other tools we looted from this hovel would serve. Better, as the creature’s magical skill was minimal, so the ancient one would have little to work with, in those moments between awakening in the body and it’s destruction. By now the human is as dead as Dolórüska, great Astarmis will have seen to that.”
“Who is this Astarmis, and where can we find him.”
“Astarmis is our faithful master, our glorious High Priest, and a male of great vision! Astarmis has led the Ophidiana under your human noses for decades… we move with impunity through your filthy city, and erase the taint of Atlantis at will! And now his prophetic dream has given us our greatest triumph!
“As to where you will find him, and your own deaths,” the Saurian face was not built to smile, but Sineerie bared her teeth in obvious mirth, “the ritual took place in the old caverns. There is a secret entrance in the swamps northwest of here, beyond a flood-control tunnel near the railroad tracks. But it makes no difference, as I said — by now my brethren have completed the rites and will welcome witnesses to our glory… before they slay you as well!”
When it was clear the Saurian had nothing more useful to impart, Artemis stood and Raven put the priestess to sleep with a mental command.
“Well, I for one would like to recognize, officially, that this Saurian has been the most forth-coming captive we have ever questioned,” Quanta said.
“Yes, let’s give her a fruit basket,” Scion said. “I just hope she’s mistaken about the Attah boy. And that we can save him, if they’ve already put that damn helmet on him. We need to get moving, I’ve got the spot she mentioned up on the comms map…”
“Yes, please save Tyler, if it’s not too late,” Madame Marie said. She had come out from the ounfò once she’d fully recovered, and caught the last of the interrogation. “I’ve heard rumors about this Ophidian Cult before—a militant offshoot of the larger Brood of the Bronze Talon. Even more than most Serpent Folk, they revere their lost Lemuria almost as a divine figure in itself. And unlike most others of their kind, they actually embrace the mistaken comparison to modern reptiles, especially snakes — they’re crazy, even by Saurian standards. Be careful!”
Once they’d made sure the irascible, but grateful, Madame Marie was really OK, and she’d given them a photo of the missing Tyler, Quanta opened another of his tunnels, this time to the edge of the South Leni-Lenape Wetlands.
“So, are these Saurians susceptible to cold, like reptiles?” Chilz asked as they stepped through into the fetid smells of the marsh. “If so this should be a pretty quick fight.”
“Well, they’re not cold blooded,” Quanta replied as he closed the portal behind them, “but they’re not warm blooded either. They’re mesotherms, somewhere in the middle. Which means they probably won’t like your cold, Chilz, but it’s also not going to just drop them into hibernation. Unfortunately.”
It didn’t take long to find the entrance to the New Deal-era flood-control tunnels, just beyond the main railroad line into the city. The Ophidiancultists had made no effort to cover their tracks, and the Vanguard had no trouble following them. The aging concrete and steel walls eventually gave way to tunnels drilled through bare rock, and finally to rough-hewn stairs leading deeper into the earth.
“Jeeze, I know it’s summer in New Jersey,” Chilz muttered to the Blue Flame. “But I swear it’s getting warmer, and more humid, the deeper we go.”
“You’re not wrong,” BF agreed, shrugging. “Not that it bothers me, of course, but this heat does seem… unnatural. Saurianmagic, maybe?”
After several minutes of cautiously advancing, the twisting, turning natural caverns finally opened into a large chamber, where six columns carved in spiraling snake motifs upheld a rough dome of stone. Crates, maps, newspaper clippings, discarded tablets, and old bones were scattered about, and a massive altar shaped like an enormous cobra stood in the center of the space. An eerie, bilious green light emanated from the altar, and several lines of the same sickly light outlined arcane hexes on the floor. The smell of charred meat hung thick in the air.
“Well, this sure looks like the place,” the Blue Flame said as Artemis and Scion cautiously led the way into the chamber. “But where is everybody? I was expecting more of a party atmosphere, you know.”
“That’s a good question—“ Artemis started to say.
“Wait, my sensors are picking up—“ Scion began.
Before either could finish their sentence there was a shifting blur in the air within the glowing green hex shapes, and suddenly monstrous creatures were visible — and rushing towards the heroes. There were three of the things… sort of.
Each creature had two heads and four legs, but only two arms… they seemed fused together at the rather wide torso, from neck to hip. The sinuous, rolling gait of their four legs looked awkward, and yet they moved shockingly fast. The closest one was on Artemis before even her reflexes had time to fully absorb what was happening.
She easily dodged under the first snarling head as it lunged forward to bite, its mouth full of glistening teeth, but the second head, and its equally lethal-looking teeth, barely missed her arm. She tucked and rolled, coming up and whirling around, escrima sticks out, her cape flaring behind her like wings.
The second beast was on Scion at almost the same instant. He deflected the first bite with an armored fist to one head, but the second head struck too quickly, powerful jaws and venomous teeth coming down on his left forearm. Alarms began going off in his helmet at the sudden, intense pressure, and he actually felt it through the metal. He tried to yank the arm free, but the creature was tenacious — and strong.
Clawed hands wrapped around his torso as the thing savaged one arm while his other held off the gnashing teeth of the first head. With a flick of an eye towards his HUD, Scion opened a certain circuit, and when he released a full-body bio-electric burst it was transferred through the armor and amplified. With a shriek the monster let go and staggered back… but it was clearly more surprised than injured. It crouched, preparing to leap back onto him… and Scion went invisible, shooting straight up at the same time.
Raven, whose own mystical senses had warned him of the camouflaged creatures an instant before they’d moved, had immediately gone invisible as well, leaving an illusory doppelgänger stand-in on the other side of the team, next to Scion. This gave him a moment to study the… whatever the Sacred Fire they were. Saurians, clearly, but he had never heard of any such mutations… and as he watched, it suddenly came to him in flash of realization.
These were not natural beings, not even mutations. There were, or had been, six Saurians here, and not that long ago by the mystic traces he was now sensing. Something – or someone – had fused them into these grotesque monstrosities. And it was increasingly clear that they were in a great deal of pain… which was at least partly driving their frenzied attacks.
Maybe the Sleeping Mists of Elyn could solve all their problems, at least for the moment. Let the shining green drops fall, and send the creatures off to a pain-free slumber… while protecting young Küng’s friends from their attacks, of course. Unfortunately, whatever spell-driven horror powered that pain, it was too strong for the Mists to penetrate. The monsters slowed, briefly, but didn’t succumb.
Quanta, who had been several paces behind Scion and Artemis, timed his moment carefully – and when Scion vanished and Artemis rolled aside, he dropped a quantum matter block on the two monsters they’d been fighting. To his considerable annoyance, they both raised clawed fists and simply shattered the construct in midair.
Even more annoying, not to mention surprising, was the third beast. Some sort of camouflaging seemed to be at work, he barely saw the thing as it leaped onto one of the pieces of his shattered block and used it as a spring board to leap for his throat. But even as it kicked off, the quantum matter beneath its clawed feet vanished back into the sub-atomic foam, and its leap turned into more of a stumbling half-fall. One head hit the floor, hard, while Quanta spun away deftly from the second’s gnashing jaws.
As much as he disliked flying under his own power, elevation seemed the wisest course just now, Quanta realized, and took to the air…
Chilz had taken to the air almost at once, rising up on a column of ice to get a better view of the tactical situation. He was torn between that very ominous looking, eerily pulsing statue in the center of the cavern, and his friends. When the lizard-mutant battling Artemis sank its teeth into her foot, the matter resolved itself instantly.
Swooping down he hefted a wooden keg off the floor – it was heavy, full of something liquid by the way it moved — and hurled it at the monster. The barrel hit it full in the back, shattering and drenching it — with nothing more interesting than water. Damn! But it had staggered the creature, enough to release Artemis’ foot, at least…
She leaped straight back at the creature as the water dripped down its flanks, and drove her blue-sparking escrima sticks into its torso. Arcs of blue-white electricity engulfed the Saurian mutant, and its hideously merged body arched and twitched, its face locked in a silent rictus scream. And then it was down and out of the fight.
When Scion had vanished, gone suddenly invisible, his opponent had looked around in frustration, and locked on to Raven as its next target. Both heads scored savage blows on the prey… but to the creature’s consternation, there was nothing there… no blood, no flesh to inject the venom into… in a redoubled frenzy, it lashed out at the smirking mammal again and again…
While it was engaged with its illusory foe, Scion loosed a stream of stun balls at the Saurian, and launched a tangle-field for good measure. Some sixth sense seemed to warn the creature, however, and it dodged the shimmering net. The stun balls hit, but it hardly seemed to notice.
From four meters up, Quanta gestured down at the third Saurian mutant, and a shimmering silver cocoon of quantum carbon began to form around it. But the creature slashed at the field, shredding the material before it could solidify… and to Quanta’s shock, it leaped straight up at him!
From a standing start, the monster jumped an astonishing distance, and its massive clawed hands wrapped around Quanta’s right leg. He staggered in the air and dropped a bit under the added weight, but almost instinctively he shifted his quantum shell to an entirely frictionless state. The look on both the Saurians’ faces as its hands slid down his leg and it plummeted to the floor was almost worth the heart attack it had almost given him with that jump.
Goddamn it, he should know better than to fly! Yes, he was getting better at it, no doubt… as long as that was all he was doing. Add in anything else more complicated than chewing gum (and maybe not even that), and everything suffered. But just to be sure, he added another two meters to his elevation… lets see one of the mutants make that jump!
Seeing that Artemis was apparently unharmed – that shadow material of hers must really be tough, if those razor-like teeth couldn’t pierce it – Chilz turned his attention back to the cobra statue. Something about it creeped him out, and he’d been right about that demonic statue back in the Cellblock… was that only yesterday? Better safe than sorry…
A minute later, the statue was encasedin three feet of solid ice, and the green glow was suddenly almost cheery-looking beneath it. It might be hot as hell in here, Chilz thought, but it’s so humid I’ve got lots of moisture to work with… and that’s all I need.
The Blue Flame, shocked at the sudden violence that had erupted around him, had taken a moment to get his head in the game. But as the monster that had leaped up to grab Quanta fell back to the ground, he sprang into action.
Bursting into his full plasma form, he threw himself at the dazed lizard-hydra-thing, his Flame Katana springing to life in his hand. He never gave the creature a chance to recover, his searing strikes driving it back until it was up against the ice-encased statue. Letting his katana flow back into himself, BF formed a massive, fiery fist, and with one last roundhousepunch he laid out the second mutant.
Raven, Artemis, and a still invisible Scion had been working on the third monster, to little effect – he seemed faster, more cunning, and stronger than the other two. From his position high above, Quanta decided to give it one more go…
I’m hovering, that takes no real effort, and barely any concentration. OK, take a deep breath, focus on containing that scaly bastard…
The shimmering quantum encasement field materialized… almost a meter to the left of his target.
Fine, he could take a hint. The others seemed to have it under control, anyway. Maybe he would be more useful studying that damn snake statue with the nauseating green glow… even if it was now encased in a meter of ice…
“Chilz, stop playing with that statue,” Artemis called over comms. “Can you replicate that stunt with the water barrel on this last beast?”
“Ah, that’s a big 10-4, boss lady – I see another barrel on the other side of the cave… hold on just a sec…”
Raven had been attempting to seize the mind of the last Saurian guardian, but it was proving exceedingly difficult. While it was one body now, there were still two minds controlling it… two minds, but they too were fused at some deep psychic level. It made control almost impossible – just when he thought he had a hook in one mind, power would surge up from the other mind, breaking his grip…
Scion was having almost as hard a time on the physical side of things. Every time he got a decent hold on the beast, it would manage to slip through or break his grip. Artemis’ Shadow Stick and escrima attacks didn’t seem to faze it, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d have to switch to some really lethal attacks, when Chilz dove in from his left, smashing a barrel of water against the Saurian’s exposed back.
But even as the wooden planks shattered against its steel-like hide, the creature whirled and one of its heads sank its teeth into the ice-man’s leg. Ice splintered and cracked, and Chilz felt a dark warmth, but of course no pain. As he kicked the thing in the head with his other foot, freeing himself and coming down several yards beyond the struggle, he could see a dark stain within the ice of his leg.
The venom from the bite? Probably, but since he didn’t have a circulatory system in this form, it wasn’t able to do anything to him. Probably. But when he turned back to his meat form… well, better to not take any chances. Casting about, he found a bent crow bar and began chipping away at his leg, carving out the ice with the dark stain…
Meanwhile, Artemis and Scion had double-teamed the soaked Saurian, simultaneously releasing dual electrified attacks. As its body twisted and writhed, the Blue Flame swooped down and and unleashed a Plasma Blast at point blank range. No creature, however impressive a specimen it was, could withstand such a combined mental and physical bombardment, and in seconds the Saurian’s smoking body was twitching convulsively on the stoney ground.
“Good team effort, guys,” Scion panted over the comms as they stared down at the defeated Saurian, catching their collective breath. Raven gave a mocking slate, and morphed back into to Totem, who began binding the unconscious creatures in azure bands of particularly strong mystical energy.
Chilz, having excised the tainted ice from his leg and then reformed the missing mass from the ambient moisture, was about to rejoin the team when he thought he heard something coming from the back of the cavern… a faint, feminine-sounding cry for help. Was there a damsel in distress in all this mess?
“Guys, I’m hearing someone, sounds like a woman, calling for help,” Chilz called over comms as he began studying the back wall of the cavern. By the time the others had joined him, he had outlined what he thought were the dimensions of a stone door set very tightly into the stone wall.
“Give me some time, I’m sure I can figure out the proper spell to open–“ Totem began, before Scion stepped up to the door, dug his metal fingers into the stone, and pulled. With a grinding sound the door began to shift outward, and then, which a sharp crack, it split in two. Scion tossed the crumbling pieces to either side and stepped into the small room revealed.
“Or we could do it that way,” Quanta laughed, craning over Totem’s shoulder to see into the room.
A rail-thin woman, with dark, classical features and thick black hair lay in a heap on the stone floor. She was wrapped in heavy iron chains, weighing her down to the point she could barely sit up. The sorceress Medea sighed, and with a wry grimace said, “Well, this is a rather awkward way to meet again, isn’t it?”
“What the hell are you doing here, Medea?” Scion demanded, as the others crowded in behind him. The ancient Greek sorceress could do little more than tilt her head, yet she somehow managed to convey infinite patience in the face of stupid questions.
“Isn’t it obvious, my dear? These sectarian serpents needed a magical patsy into whom they could resurrect that bastard Dolórüska. But they ended up going with the shop boy… I suppose they thought my body would’ve made the old goat too powerful, too quickly, whereas the boy would leave him relatively helpless, at least long enough to dispatch him. Or maybe they just don’t like their liches… curvaceous. Who can say for sure?”
“That hardly explains how you, of all people, happened to be one of the two people they captured for use in their ritual,” Artemis snapped. “Try again.”
“Are you always so humorless, Artemis?” Medea sighed. “Fine, fine… the truth is, I sometimes have visions of certain mystical events, and I had one yesterday regarding the reappearance of that moldy old Atlantean’s fancy headgear. The last thing I wanted was seeing that pile of bones reanimated again — talk about humorless, he makes Artemis look like Lucille Ball. So, I made haste to recover it before some hapless mortal slapped it on their head, thereby turning theirbad day into the whole world’s bad day.
“Unfortunately, that scaly High Priest Astarmis apparently also has prophetic dreams, and he and his little band of psycho serpent cultists were closer. I arrived just in time to see them make off with the Golden Helm. I followed, of course, in case the opportunity arose to snatch it… and, I admit, out of simple curiosity. Given the snake boys’ unrelenting hatred of all things Atlantean, I did wonder what they were up to.
“Even more unfortunately, from my point of view, was the very keen senses of those savage beasts the Ophidian’s keep… and a particularly effective mystical trap. You’re welcome, by the way — my tripping it meant you didn’t have to face it on your own way down here, as they never had a chance to reset it, given subsequent events.”
“Yes, what exactly were those ‘subsequent events?’ What went down back there?” Scion asked, jerking a thumbs over his shoulder toward the ritual cavern.
“Poetry? Classic tragedy? A textbook example of hubris? However one cares to interpret it, really it’s just a bit of Serpent Folk ego run amok. These snakes actually thought they could destroy Dolórüska after releasing him from his Helm, and destroy the Helm itself. Surprise, surprise, it will come as no shock that they were wrong. Spectacularly wrong, actually. The old mage managed to usurp the entire cult in less than a minute —quite the impressive feat, that, really — and then he left, with his new minions slavishly in tow.”
“Fantastic!” Totem groaned. “So not only is Dolórüska reborn, but he’s got a small army of Serpent Folk under his command now. I don’t suppose you have any idea where they’ve gone, or what he’s planning?”
“Well, it’s entirely possible I might… indeed, it’s possible I might possess information you’d find quite interesting… even vital. But it’s so difficult to think, what with these nasty iron chains weighing me down…”
“Er, yes, I’m not sure why we seem to be participating in this Kinbaku,” Quanta said, causing the Blue Flame to snort-laugh and Artemis to give him a Look. He shrugged. “We’re doing to have to make a decision on what to do with her, assuming we’re not just going to leave her here to die.”
“True,” agreed Artemis. “ But I’m not inclined to simply unbind her and trust to her notably absent goodwill to prevent her attacking us. Assuming she even knows where Dolórüska has gone, or what his plans are…”
“A fair point, I suppose,” Medea conceded. “Very well, let me give you a taste. You see, he’s really not a quiet man, our Dolórüska. Loves a good monologue, even more than the next supervillain. In his rantings, once he’d ensnared the Ophidians, it became clear that he seems to think he senses the spirit of a powerful mage bound to the world’s mystic energy — the late Roland Reid, or so he says — and he’s got it in his head to bind the man’s spirit as his personal servant. No doubt there’s some larger, droll scheme to “take over the world” or some such, but really, I stopped listening at that point.
“So, I suppose you’ll be wanting a hand in averting that whole enslave-the-sprit-of-dear-departed-Roland thing. Dolórüska is no kitten, to be sure, but Dolórüska on his own is considerably less concerning than Dolórüska backed by the power of another Magus Prime. Not that you need my guidance, I’m sure. You’re the superheroes here, after all. Now where do you suppose he’s hiding? I can’t seem to recall if he ranted about that little detail…”
“Is it possible that Roland’s spirit is still connected somehow to this plane,” Artemis asked Totem, gesturing everyone out of the smaller room and into the larger cavern, leaving the bound demi-goddess peering after them in annoyance.
“I… I don’t see how. I was there when the Powers-That-Be settled the mantle on Sabra, and I sensed Roalnd’spresence there, with so many other Magi Prime who’d come before. But perhaps, with his Arcane Wards, meant to protect the Earth from a magical take-over… maybe they actually tied him to this plane somehow? I just don’t know…”
“Can we take the chance?” Scion asked. “Even if it isn’t Reid’s spirit, or soul, or whatever that’s trapped in the ether, we can’t risk that madman enslaving whoever, or whatever, it might really be… especially if it involves his gaining additional powers.”
“But how do we know we can trust Medea?” the Blue Flame asked. “It’s not like we can afford a magical knife in the back at the critical moment, you know?”
“Oh, my darlings! You absolutely should NOT trust me” Medea called from the other room. “I’m out for my own ends here, to be sure. It just happens that today we share a common enemy… and a very powerful one. The more of us working together to take him down, the more likely we are to succeed. And really, the one thing you can always trust me to be is petty and vengeful.
“So, if it will help move things along,” craning her neck, she caught Totem’s eye, “I swear by Hecate, by Aunt Circe, and by the thousand witches of Colchis to lay no spell against your flesh or soul without your consent before the new moon’s rise, and if I am forsworn, may the Furies devour my soul. Happy?”
“Scion?” Artemis asked.
“Just a second… yes, the new moon rises at 05:00 tomorrow morning. Actually, that somehow makes me more inclined to believe she’s being honest — it’s not like she’s swearing eternal loyalty, just 15 hours of cooperation.”
“The truth is, that oath really does bind her,” Totem offered. “For her to break it would bring down consequences so dire that even she would hesitate to face them. I think we can trusther in this.”
While the others weighed the pros and cons of freeing Medea, Chilz leaned in to whisper to Quanta. “Dude, why do you have that dopey grin on your face? Do you not believe her?”
“No, no, I believe she’ll keep her precise oath. I just think it’s really cool that she’s Circe’sniece.”
Once Scion had snapped the iron chains that bound the witch, Medea stood and stretched… and Artemis silently rolled her eyes as all the men drooled, at least metaphorically.
“Ah, that’s leagues more comfortable, thank you! Now, I suppose a deal’s a deal, so…
“Dolórüskadid mention the Vandergraff House in his tedious diatribe. It’s an old estate on North Hill, built on a nexus of ley lines… it will certainly provide him with all the spare magical energy he’ll need for the ritual he proposes to invoke. I used the place as a hideout myself a few times back in the ‘70s. As did several other mystical types, over the years. It has a lovely view over the Palisades.”
“How does he plan to achieve this supposed enslavement of Arkanos’ soul,” Scion asked as she slipped past him through the doorway, patting his armored shoulder and giving him a demur smile.
“Some sort of old Atlanteanritual, much like the one that transformed him from a Master Mage into an immortal spirit in a decaying corpse 20,000 years ago. Actually, it’s quite similar to an old Cretan ritual I know… so it’s one that I could almost certainly disrupt, given the opportunity…”
“Why are you so hot to finish off the old guy?” Chilz asked, still suspicious of the Greek sorceress. “I’d have thought you magical sorts would stick together.”
“Like all the non-magical sorts do?” Medea actually laughed, a full-throated and deeply seductive sound. “Please, look what he did to me, leaving me bound in iron, and at the mercy of those hideous Serpent warriors he fusedtogether on a whim! Even after I’d offered my services in his efforts – for some reason he didn’t fully trust the sincerity of my proposal. Well, rightly so, of course, I never swore him any oaths. But still…
“Besides, I really don’t appreciate being the second-string sorcerer in town… the old man isn’t exactly low key, and it will be so much worse if he gains even more power. But beyond all that, Dolórüska is simply an ass, and I would love being there to see the look on his face when he goes down – again. Even if it means enduring a little detente in this… special something we all share.”
“Enough,” Artemis said. “If there’s any chance of his pulling off this ritual… and how do we know he hasn’t already done so?… we need to move quickly.”
“Oh, we’d know,” Medea declared. “The whole world would likely know. But not to worry, my dears, the ritual requires a sky both moonless and sunless to work. We’ve hours yet before he can do more than prepare.”
“Assuming she’s right about all this, we do have some time,” Scion said. “Moonset is at 19:04, sunset follows at 20:26. And I’d rather not rush headlong into this mess for once, if we can avoid it.”
“Agreed,” Artemis said. “So let’s spend our time devising a plan of action, while Medea tells us everything she knows about the layout of this Vandergraff House. But first, I do have one question, for my own curiosity, Medea – how did you escape after we we captured you during your raid on the Sanctum?”
“Oh, how I envy your youthful optimism, Artemis,” Medea laughed. “If Vitruvian and even Hades himself can’t keep me locked down, surely you didn’t expect those charming boys and girls at SHADE to hold me for long? I would have escaped them soon enough, of course, but that dreary little Englishman, the Gaoler, made it ever so much easier when he tried to add me to his little extra-dimensional collection of miscreants.”
Shortly after that the seven retreated, via quantum tunnel, to the air conditioned, if slightly cramped, comfort of the Interceptor, where they spent the next several hours devising a strategy to penetrate whatever defenses the insane lich may have placed around his new lair. Once they’d prepared as much as possible, there was nothing to do but wait.
As the others tried to relax in their jumpseats, Chilz approached the Greek sorceress where she sat in the cockpit, next to a helmet-less Scion, both staring silently out at the early evening cityscape across the harbor. Clearing his throat, he tapped her on the shoulder.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly. “You say you can disrupt this ritual of his, but can you, can we, turn it around, instead? Use it to actually bring back Roland Reid? Actually resurrect him, I mean?” Scion seemed surprised at the question, but Medea just smiled.
“Well, anything is possible with that positive, go-get-‘em attitude of yours, my dear. But perhaps you should consider this — Dolórüska came back more corrupt, power-hungry, and evil than ever before… and quite utterly damned. Is that really something you’d want to risk for such a beloved hero? There really are things worse than death, child.”
“Ah. I hadn’t considered the Pet Semetary possibility,” Chilz said, clearly disturbed. “Well, maybe it’s not such a good idea.” With a nod to Scion he walked slowly back to his own seat, settling in with a thoughtful look on his face.
“That does bring up a question I’ve been thinking about,” Scion said after he was gone. “Can we save Dolórüska’s current host, the kid Tyler?”
The question seemed to genuinely surprise Medea, and he rather thought it startled her into a fully truthful answer. “I… yes, it might be possible. When his host body is killed, his spirit is forced back into the Golden Helm; that is, of course, how he survives. But it’s the driving him out while the host is still alive that’s the tricky bit…
“Of course, if his spirit is already over-extended from, say, working a powerful and draining ritual… well then, simply defeating him might trigger the same reflex, forcing him to retreat to the safety of his Helm. It would certainly be a gamble, though — safer by far to simply destroy the body.”
Scion said nothing, simply staring at her for a moment, before nodding and turning back to look out the window at the setting sun. Medea too turned back to the window, looking oddly unsettled…
•• •• ••
The last glow of the setting sun was still lingering in the western sky when the Vanguard and their unlikely ally stepped from one of Quanta’sportals into the shadows between two buildings across the street from the Vandergraff House. This was a two-story Regency-style mansion, set in the middle of a relatively large estate and surrounded by low stone walls. Warm lights shone from the windows of the house, while softer, indirect key lights illuminated the formal gardens. A carriage house could be seen beyond the driveway and circular courtyard in front of the building, and beyond the gatehouse from the street they could see a large round reflecting pond filled with lily pads.
The could also see figures dressed in colonial-era costumes wandering the grounds, scowling and glancing suspiciously around as they made their rounds. “Oh, that’s not suspicious at all,” the Blue Flame said. “I know the place is a living history museum now, but why would they have guys in period costumes patroling at night, when there’s no one to see them?”
“And why are they packing anachronisticallymodernheavy pistols?” Artemis added. “Also… look closely at the way they move…the illusion of humanity isn’t bad, but they still move with that unconscious, sinuousgrace of the Serpent Folk.”
Totem had confirmed Medea’s assertion that the house itself was warded against inward-bound teleportation. While they could have subdued the fauxsecurity guards, it would almost certainly have raised the alarm within the house… which meant they’d have to do the infiltration the old fashioned way. It was a tense several minutes as the group made their way stealthily over the wall, past the exterior guards, and into the mansion itself, but the operation went off without a hitch.
Once inside the house, they had an easier time avoiding the four disguised Serpent Folk patrolling its many velvet-roped rooms – Medea was certain that the ancient wizard would have set up shop in the sub-basement, it being the ideal place to perform his ritual. She led them straight to the semi-hidden door in the kitchen pantry that accessed the upper basement.
Wide wooden stairs dropped steeply into the mansion’s main basement, which was essentially an expansive, subterranean warehouse, forty feet across and twice as long. Aging stone and mortar walls supported a ceiling ten feet overhead, and the floor was close-fitted flagstone. Informative plaques marked several dusty, threadbare antiques stuffed in various nooks, but half the basement was given over to modern amenities, such as plumbing, the breaker box, and an emergency generator.
The other half was filled with a crowd of angry Serpent Folk.
Although blocking the way further into the basement, the dozens of milling Saurian’s did not immediately leap to attack. This puzzled the Vanguard, until thousands of writhing snakes began to pour from every crevice and crack in the old stonework… in less than a minute, the snakes had assembled themselves into a roughly humanoid form — an extremely unsettling sight to everyone except Medea.
“Oh, yes, I forgot to mention,” she offered at her companion’s horrified looks. “That’s what Dolórüska did to Astarmis, once he had the cult under his sway… turned their high priest into an aggregate creature made entirely of snakes. One wonders how much of lizard boy’s mind is left in there…”
The question was at least partially answered when the nauseatingly shifting figure held up a gold helmet handed to it – him? – them? by one of the minions.
“Ha! Human fools,” a thousand hissing voices cried in terrible unison from the swarm-creature. “You would seek to free your master, Dolórüska? Well, you shall not succeed! He is our prisoner now, and soon we will destroy him utterly! After all, we have this!” He held the gold helmet triumphantly above his head.
“Um, you do realize that’s just a wooden helmet, painted gold, right?” the Blue Flame asked hesitantly into the silence that followed, glancing at Medea. “He does know, right?”
Whatever the creature that had once been Astarmis might have been expecting, it apparently wasn’t this. The writhing mass of snakes seemed momentarily nonplussed as it stared at the object in its “hands.”
“He’s right,” Artemis said, quickly following up on the creature’s momentary confusion. “You’re being controlled by your ancient enemy, High Priest Astarmis. Look at what he’s done to your body… surely you were not always like… this?”
“I… no, you mammal’sss sseek to confussse ussss… we are… I am asss I have alwaysss been…” but his hissing certainty was undercut by the sideways look he cast at his minions, who shuffled in confusion behind and to either side of him. “When we perform the ritual—“
“You’ve already performed the ritual, do you not remember?” Totem took up the thread. “In your deep cavern, under the green eyes of your cobra idol, you placed the real Golden Helm on the human youth you took from that shop. And Dolórüska awoke…”
“Yesss, we… he… why iss it sso hard for usss to think? We mussst dessstroy the Atlantean betrayer… and thief… but he… what hassss he done to ussss?!” That last was a wailing cry, and the snake-thing flung the false helm to the floor, where it bounced and then rolled away into the shadows.
“He has betrayed you yet again,” Chilz roared suddenly, as he rose on a pillar of ice so that his head almost brushed the ceiling. All of the Saurians flinched and hunched down for an instant. “He MUST be destroyed! Tell us where he is so we can destroy him… do not fight for him, do not make us destroy you first!”
That seemed to finally break the Serpent priest’s resolve, and he hissed some unintelligible order to his small army. As the Vanguard stood aside, the Saurian’s moved past them and up the stairs, casting malevolentglares at the mammals, but making no hostile move. Snake-Astarmis was the last, and as he slithered/strode up the stairs he hissed a last warning.
“If you do not destroy the ancient betrayer, mammals, as you promise, be sure that I and my Ophidians will hunt you to the ends of the Earth, and you will pay for your perfidy!” And then he too was gone.
“Where’s our girl Medea?” Quanta asked suddenly. He hadn’t seen her since the confrontation with the snake guys had begun, and she’d been strangely quiet during the encounter.
“I’m right here, my dear,” the sorceress said, stepping out of the shadows to his left. “I felt it best if the lizards didn’t see me… I thought you’d all do better talking them down without me dredging up old memories.” She ran a finger down his silvery cheek and tapped one enameled nail on his chin. “And I’m neither yours, nor a girl… something you might want to keep in mind, dear.”
She continued on into the basement proper, gesturing for the Vanguard to follow. “As I recall, the hidden entrance to this place’s real power locus is in this corner, behind that pile of crap… my, they really have let this place go to the dogs since the last time I was here.”
As she’d said, a hidden door revealed a wide set of spiral stone stairs winding down into flame-lit dimness. The sound of low, guttural chanting drifted up, growing louder as the heroes moved down the into the sub-basement, Medea following behind.
Flickering candles illuminated a large circular room, perhaps 25 meters across, and the smells of herbs, smoke, and sweet liqueurs were heavy in the air. Six massive crystals lined a circle of runes, fifteen feet across, scribed on the ground at the center of the place, directly beneath the carved stone dome that rose more than 10 meters above. The crystals pulsed with a cold blue light, and the runes pulsed in golden counterpoint. They both encircled a large clay human-looking body, itself covered in a multitude of dark runes.
Dolórüska the Damned, tall and imperious in his traditional Atlantean robes, stood over the simulacrum, finishing an incantation before looking up, apparently totally unconcerned by his new visitors.
“So typical of this era’s champions,” he finally said once his chant was done. His Golden Helm glinted in the flickering light as he turned its cold countenance on them. “You have both presumed to let yourselves in… and have arrived too late!” His voice was deep and as cold as the void between the stars, and when he laughed it sent chills down the spine.
“I have concluded the ritual, you fools! I have drawn down his disembodied spirit, and now Roland Reid is forever bound into this body! My former rival now my loyal pet, for all eternity! Now, servant, rise and destroy these interlopers! By my command, attack!”
The Vanguard tensed, staring in anticipated horror at the clay golem. They could see now that it’s molded feature bore a distinct resemblance to the late Magus Prime. And Totem saw, to his real dismay, the ancient Talisman of the Trifani around the simulacrum’s neck, resting on its chest. Roland had worn and wielded that powerful artifact for almost 80 years – it would act as the perfect conduit to pull his spirit into the body! How in the Names of all the Great Beasts had Dolórüska acquired it?
The moment stretched… and stretched again. Nothing happened. For all that the features of his metal helm were immobile, Totem had the sense that the ancient sorcerer was surprised. He took advantage of that, and cast the most powerful spell of disenchantment that he knew, backed by all the mystic power at his command, and hurled it at Dolórüska.
The violetenergies flowed from him and splashed harmlessly against a shield, invisible until then, that lay dome-like around the runes, golem and wizard. Dolórüska paid no attention to the harmless attack, instead focusing his concentration on commanding his new slave – he shouted words not heard on Earth in almost 20,000 years, and gestured violently at the golem.
Still nothing happened, except Quanta’s quantum matter splashing in beautiful, glittering steaks of silver against the shield dome, and Totem tried a Curse, which sputtered and died — less spectacular, but just as useless.
The attacks did finally draw Dolórüska’s attention, and almost contemptuously he gestured at Totem. Crimson energy flashed out, and in an instant the shaman was wrapped from nose to toes in glowing red chains of mystical energy. Unable to move or speak, he was utterly vulnerable and defenseless.
Chilz, seeing the futility of physical attacks, also saw that the invisible barrier, when briefly lit by an attack, seemed to lay just within the circle of crystals. Perhaps they were vulnerable? Leaping forward, he brought both of his massive ice fists down on the nearest crystal. Cracks radiated out in a spiderweb pattern, and his second blow shattered the crystal into a thousand shards. The barrier flickered into visibility for a moment before fading back out of sight…. But Chilz was sure he could now see the occasional flicker of the shield in the dim light, where it had been entirely invisible before.
“Chilz has the right idea!” Scion called out on comms. “We need to destroy that barrier before we can take the fight to Dolórüska. Go for the crystals!”
Taking his own advice, Scion slamed an armored fist into another crystal, cracking it — before he could make a second strike the Blue Flame was hovering next him, unleashing a plasma stream into the fractured rock. It blew apart in a flash of blue light and flame. Again, the shield dome flickered, and afterward its invisibility wasn’t quite as complete.
Artemis took a moment to examine the crystal nearest to her, looking deep into its internal structure… yes, just there. She struck a single, solid blow with an escrimastick at the juncture of three facets. With a crack like a rifle shot, the crystal fractured down its center, splitting into two halves, each of which shattered into several more pieces as they hit the floor. The dome flickered, and this time it remained faintly visible in the candlelight…
Struggling in the constricting bonds within which Dolórüska had restrained him, Totem tried something he had contemplated, but never pursued. Reaching deep within himself, to the place where the Avatars slept within him, he focused on Eagle. He did not summon the Avatar, but instead channeled his tremendous strength…
The crimson chains burst in a flash of ruby light, and Totem rolled forward to come up in a three-point hero pose. His eyes glowed golden and his fist was encased in a nimbus of golden energy…
Chilz had shattered a fourth crystal, and that had finally gotten the attention of the undead mage. Dolórüska gestured toward the ice giant and a blast of crimson mystic energy struck him full in the chest. To the surprise fo both, it did little more than force him back a step. Chilz grinned…
Quanta, meanwhile, crushed the fifth crystal with a massive block of realized quantum matter, and this time the flicker of the shield-dome didn’t stop. Bands of swirling, translucent energy defined the barrier clearly… and then Scion blasted the final crystal to flinders with a stream of armor-piercing rounds.
The barriervanished as the last crystal went dark.
The instant it was gone, the Blue Flame let loose a massive plasma blast, engulfing Dolórüska in a searing ball of roiling blue energy.… which the lich simply strode out of, almost oblivious to it.
But as the Atlantean began to gesture, no doubt to conjure some new assault, Artemis vaulted over the remains of a crystal and was on him. Legs wrapped around his torso, arms encircling his neck, she addressed the boy imprisoned in his own body.
“Tyler, I know you must be in there! Fighthim from the inside, help us to help you! You are not helpless —“
“What a foolish child you are, little demi-godling,” Dolórüska just laughed, shrugging her off as if she were a child indeed. But that was fine, she’d only wanted to distract him. “No one can resist my possession, and soon enough what remains of the—“
Totem’s golden bands of mystic power wrapped the ancient mage from neck to ankles, much as he’d earlier bound the young shaman. Chilz took Dolórüska’s distraction to unleash a tremendous roundhouse punch the head of the Arkanos-golem — if the construct was too damaged, maybe it could forestall any resurrection of Roland Reid.
But Dolórüska took far less time to shrug off his bonds than Totem had taken to shed his. Distracted he might have been, but not so much that he hadn’t noticed Chilz’ attempted desecration of the vessel in which he would enslave his old foe. Furious at the minor damage the ice giant had managed to inflict on the golem, he turned his attention full upon him.
“By the power of the ancient Ghoruzhed,” Dolórüska roared, “I Curse you and Transform you, let you be as the dust of the earth, dead and inert!”
A wash of almost invisible energy flowed over him, and Chilz felt his body begin to change… it was stiffening, and he watched in horror as his extremities began to turn… to clay?! He collapsed to his knees next to the golem, focusing every ounce of his willpower on fighting the transformation…
Quanta, staying firmly on the ground this time, lashed out at the ancient mage with an encasement attack. From feet to helm, Dolórüska was encased in a constricting shell of nano carbon. Yes, finally,Quanta thought. Proves that it pays to stay on the – his satisfied thought was cut short as he saw his quantum matter suddenly turn inside out, twist sideways somehow, and then simply vanish.
Before the lich could turn his ire on Quanta, however, Scion was behind him, unleashing a point-blank burst of his brain-tickler into the Golden Helm. He didn’t know if the undead spirit would be affected, but maybe if he knocked out the physical brain of the the poor kid it possessed —
Dolórüska staggered forward, but when he whirled to confront Scion, he seemed little more than annoyed. “So, are you an Atlantean under that little shell of orichalcum, boy? Perhaps one of my very distant descendants, eh? And I see you’ve alloyed the pureorichalcum with other elements… clever! It may be you will make a good court artificer for me… assuming you survive my ascension, of course.”
He gestured, and a blast of pure mystic energy sent Scion flying across the room. As he pulled himself back to his feet, the armored hero noticed a shape, moving in the shadows… for a moment he thought it was Artemis, but no, he could see his teammate near the downed Chilz…. then it was gone, and he couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been his imagination.
Chilz could feel himself winning, fighting the transformation, pushing it back, moment by moment. He retained enough presence of mind, even in his own fear and desperate struggle, to remember the realdanger. He reached out and pulled the fancy necklace from around the golem’s neck, clutching it in his fist. Totem had yelled something over comms earlier about it drawing in Arkanos’ spirit…
Artemis, seeing his action and realizing its significance, snapped her Shadow Whip toward her teammate. Its tip wrapped around the chain, and she snapped it back, reaching up as the Talisman of the Trifani dropped neatly into her hand. Stepping back into the shadows, she vanished…
To reappear in another shadow as close as she could get to Totem. He and Dolórüska were engaged now in a serious mystic duel, and her teammate seemed to be actually holding his own. The Atlantean’s crimson bolts splattered against Totems golden shields, and the shaman had again bound their enemy in mystic chains. The lich had burst them, yes, but it had taken him longer… was Dolórüska tiring? If so… she waited for the right moment…
It came when the Blue Flame yelled “Ballz!” at the top of his lungs. As the subsequent burst of blinding blue-white light filled the room, she had leaped forward, tossing the Talisman to Totem. Dolórüska hadn’t been blinded, of course – she wasn’t even sure if he saw, in the traditional sense, through that helmet of his — but he was distracted.
Which Quanta used to drop a ton of silvery quantum matter on the old zombie. He gritted his teeth in frustration when the bastard simply waved a hand, and his plunging block turned into a cloud of Death’s Head moths and fluttered away. He really hated magic.
Totem also had used Dolórüska’s distraction to good advantage, dropping the Talisman of the Trifani around his neck, with a silent apology to his old mentor. This was a powerful artifact, and one of its many uses was to channel and amplify a mages existing power, and he needed every advantage he could get at this point. He finally felt his own newfound powers had integrated, becoming truly his… but Dolórüska was relentless, and both more skilled and, honestly, more powerful than him.
As if to prove the point, he suddenly found himself once again bound in strands of glowing ruby chains, suspended several feet above the floor. But this time he wore the Talisman, and even though he understood little about its full use, he felt its power amplifying his own. He burst the chains almost as quickly as Dolórüska had burst his own golden chains.
As he launched another barrage of mystic bolts at the undead mage, Totem thought he saw a vaguely human shadow flit across the edge of his vision. But there was no time to give it any thought , he had his hands, and mind, full just then…
Scion landed next to Chilz, helping his teammate to his feet. “Are you OK? What the hell did he do to you.”
“Yeah, I think I’m OK now, I seem to have fought it off… I think he was trying turn me to clay! Maybe as punishment for trying to disfigure his little doll here.” Chilz gestured to the golem at their feet.
“A good idea, Chilz,” Scion said, and unleashed a volley of his armor-piercing rounds at the recumbent form. But aside form a small chip or two, they did no more damage than Chilz’ blows had.
“Yeah, I think those squiggly symbols all over it provide protection,” he said after Scion stopped firing. “Did you notice how they flared when your bullets hit?”
Before Scion could answer the Blue Flame landed on the other side of the golem. “You guys are on the right track, but a little cosmetic surgery isn’t enough. This calls for some radical surgery!”
With that, his Plasma Katana formed in his hand, and he swept the searing blade down. With a single mighty stroke he decapitated the construct. The head rolled away to bump up against Chilz’ foot. He bend down and picked it up, staring into the lifeless clay face.
“Alas, poor golem! I knew him Horatio…”
“Ok, now that the threat of a resurrected Arkanos is gone,” Scion laughed, “let’s go kick this bastard’sass. Totem is holding his own, but I doubt he can do it alone, even with Reid’s magic doohickey.”
And indeed, enraged at the destruction of his golem, Dolórüska was redoubling his efforts to bring down Totem. But their teammate blocked each attack with his golden shields, and returned as good as he got, his golden bolts flaring against the Atlantean’s crimson shields.
And then he managed to ensnare the lich in golden chains, and this time Dolórüska struggled to break them. Chilz was across the five meters between them in an instant, and his roundhousepunch jerked the mage’s head back, but didn’t seem to actually hurt him.
With a desperate shrug Dolórüska shattered Totems bindings, and he turned his wrath on Chilz. “I shall not suffer the indignity of having one such as you lay hands on me,” he roared, and with a gesture Chilz found himself bound from chin to feet, as Totem had been earlier, in crimson chains of energy. Twirling slowly several feet in the air, he struggled to break the chains…
Scion had used the distraction to again come up behind the Atlanteansorcerer and unleash an EMP directly into his head. This time, Dolórüska staggered forward, and almost went to one knee. It might have been Quanta’s stream of buckyballs that actually kept him on his feet, as the attack took him full in the chest and drove him back.
The Blue Flame swooped in and encased the ancient mage in a flaming cage of his own plasma form. But even staggered by the previous attacks, Dolórüska simply waved the cage away, dissipating the Blue Flame entirely for a moment, before he could pull himself back together. As he did, he thought he saw a flickering, shadowyfigure across the room…
Artemis was suddenly on the former Magus Prime, punching, jabbing and kicking at one after another of the body’s most vulnerable points, and Dolórüska reeled under the attack. Before he could recover, Totem poured all his power int his Winding Whip, lashing it around the mage and binding his arms.
Quanta unleashed a stream of buckyballs at nearly the speed of sound, slamming it into the Golden Helm. It was the last straw, and Dolórüska collapsed to the ground. There was a blinding flash of light, and a jubilant female voice yelled “YES!”
As their vision cleared, the Vanguard saw the unconscious form of Tyler Attah, draped in Dolórüska’s robes, lying where the ancient mage had been. The Golden Helm lay smoking on the floor nearby. But the room began to grow cold before the heroes could react, and the smoke and light twisted themselves into a woman’s form standing over the helmet. A woman with long, dark hair framing cruel eyes of a red so dark as to be almost black. A woman Totem recognized instantly.
“Varina!” he snarled as she burst into peals of cold laughter.
“Indeed, boy! Dolórüska played his part perfectly. As did you and your little super-friends, fools and tools that you all are.
“A year of slumbering within this world’s magical energy, months spent finding and destroying Arkanos’s vile little wards, designed solely to keep me from my rightful ascension… but it’s all are over now, and I rise! How I envy you little mortals… you have served me so loyally… and now you have the glory of being the first to die at the hands of Varina the Ascendant, Dark God of Gods!”
“So this was your ploy all along?” Totem demanded. “You wantedSabra to kill you that day, didn’t you… but why? What did you gain?”
“Gain? Why, everything, foolish boy. Or at least that was the plan. I spent centuries devising my ritual – the great ritual that would finally allow me to ascend to true godhood. I needed one thousand worlds drawn into my own Dark Realm, and after Roland’s humiliating trickery, I swore to make this pathetic little world, his world, my final conquest.
“My “death” was an integral part of the ritual, of course – but only my death at the hands of this world’s Magus Prime would do, allowing my spirit to mergewith your world’s magics and thereby gain control from within. But that vile RolandReid must have suspected… his damn Arcane Wards worked just as he intended, keeping me trapped and formless, unable to act on the material world.
“But he underestimated me, of course. However brilliant, he didn’t have my centuries of experience. It took time, but eventually I found tools whose minds I could touch, tools I could use to act as my hands in this world, to find and destroy the Wards. And now, bonded to this last, accidental Ward, there is nothing you or anyone can do to stop my Ascension!”
She stooped to take up the Golden Helm… and her hand passed through the artifact as if it were made of smoke. Her expression changed swiftly from mocking condescension to furious rage.
“What trickery is this?” I—“
“Oh, how dreadful,” Medea feigned a sob from the gloom deeper within the chamber. “Isn’t it terrible when someone wears the same accessory to a party?”
As all eyes turned to her, she lifted the realGolden Helm to her head and, with a gleeful laugh, lowered it…
The world vanished in a flood of light, and three voices screamed in agonizing pain and terror. The Vanguard collapsed to the stone floor, blinded and half-deafened by the horrible shrieks. And then they just stopped. As vision returned, only the Golden Helm of Dolórüska the Damned remained, laying in the spot where Medea had stood — surrounded by a circle of charred stone…
•• •• ••
Later, the Vanguard were gathered about the Round Table in their Ready Room at Vanguard HQ, high atop the famed AzTech Pyramid. It was another beautiful summer day in Astoria, and things had been surprisingly quiet since their return from New Atlantis. With not much crime to report on, the meeting was ending early. Life was good.
But then the red phone in the corner of the room rang, and everyone tensed. A call on that particular phone could mean only one thing – serious trouble was going on somewhere in the city. The Mayor only called on her dedicated special hotline when things were beyond the police!
“Hello Madame Mayor,” Scion said as he lifted the receiver, putting it to his ear. “How can we help?”
“Good morning Scion,” Mayor Syrett said, sounding all business. “I’m afraid the forces of E.V.A.L. have struck again – the master super villainess Sandblaster and her gang of sand-themed minions are robbing the main branch of the First National Bank even as we speak! The police are helpless against them… I’m afraid only the Vanguard can stop her!”
“Have no fear, ma’am, the Vanguard is on the way!” Scion hung up the phone and turned to his teammates. “It looks like the vacation is over, friends – our old chum Sandblaster is back in town, and up to her old tricks. It’s time to earn our keep again!”
Gala opening of the Museum of Meta-Human Science The Eastside, Astoria, OR – Thursday 4 July 2019, 19:00
“I still think we should just use the Interceptor and arrive in style,” the Blue Flame said as he watched Quanta open one of his shimmering silver tele-portals. He stood with the rest of the Vanguard in the center of Defiance Plaza, the golden sunlight of an early summer evening glinting brightly off the blue glass of the towering AzTechPyramid behind them. “It’d be much more dramatic, you know?”
“More dramatic than stepping out of thin air and on to the red carpet?” Chilz laughed. “I don’t think so! Although I’m still not sure why we couldn’t do this from the Ready Room…”
“I thought Quanta’s explanation was quite clear,” Totem said. Given his usual stoic expression, neither of his teammates could quite tell if he was joking. “The potential energy differential, not to mention the variation in air pressure, between 800+ feet and 40 feet above sea level is not insignificant. It’s more draining on him when he has to compensate for those when opening a portal. The elevation difference between the Plaza and the museum is negligible, so when he has a chance to take advantage of that, why not take it?”
“Exactly,” Quanta interjected, glancing over his shoulder at the others. “For once I’d like to arrive somewhere not feeling wrung out and drained. Besides, this gives me a chance to experiment with a wider portal, one we can step through as a group, rather than two-by-two like we usually do. That should make for a suitably dramatic entrance, kid.”
He gestured at his portal, which was indeed an oval much wider than it was tall, flickering silver at the edges and filled with a slowly shifting coruscation of pale pastel rainbow color. “Shall we?”
The Vanguard stepped forward as one, and through —
— and out onto the sidewalk in front of the new Museum of Meta-Human Science and History, more than five miles east of Defiance Plaza and their headquarters. A wide red carpet lay before them, leading up the wide steps and across the portico to the building’s set of triple doors. These were of greenish glass, matching the two story wall of glass that made up the walls of the new museum. The white marble third story seemed to defy physics, its visually more massive bulk seeming too great to be held up by the mere glass below it.
A cheer went up from the crowds on either side of the red carpet at the Vanguard’s appearance, after an ‘ooh’ of surprised appreciation at their method of arrival. The heroes waved to their fans as they mounted the steps.
“Well, OK, I guess that was a pretty impressive entrance,” the Blue Flame admitted, waving back at their adoring public. Quanta just smiled as the team stepped into the vast open space of the museum’s ground floor, already crowded with an uneasy mixture of the usual well-to-do supporters of the arts and sciences in Astoria, and the working-to-middle-class fans of super heroes. The latter were usually a much less common part of such galas.
With the renewed interest in all things both meta and magical in the wake of the death of Roland Reid and the huge free-for-all battle over his inexplicably (to the general public) re-located mansion, the opening of the West Coast branch of the Meta Museum had proved to be auspiciously timed. To take advantage of this trending interest the new curator/director of the main museum in New Atlantis, JasonLatimer, had quickly organized an exhibition exploring the dichotomy between meta-science and magic, posing the question: “Is there a difference?”
“A very good question,” Quanta said to Scion as they stepped into the crowd, heading for the small dais on the far side of the space, set up between the two curving staircases leading up to the mezzanine level circled the perimeter. “I’m looking forward to the panel discussion I, or rather Kyle Steiner, has been invited to participate in tomorrow night to debate the question. It should prove very interesting.”
“Yes, no doubt,” Scion agreed quickly, hoping to avoid a preview of his friend’s arguments just then. “Um, I understand it’s the new museum director’s first big event since he took over from Dr. Thomas after his retirement.”
“Yeah, so I heard. I have to say, I was surprised when Gerald resigned soon soon after the New Atlantis museum finished its reconstruction,” Quanta sighed. “He was always so enthusiastic about all things super-heroic; his energy was a big reason I supported the original museum financially, even before I gained my own powers. I heard he announced his retirement at the re-dedication ceremony back in January, effective almost immediately.”
“A ceremony I notice the Vanguard was not invited to attend,” Scion laughed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I’m afraid Dr. Thomas, despite his love of all things meta-human, finally reached his limit after our last, rather destructive, visit to his museum. But his successor doesn’t seem concerned about having us here this evening… although I suppose he could hardly have excluded us, in our own city.”
Gentle live music was provided by a string quartet positioned on the mezzanine level directly over the entrance, and it combined with the lazy burble of the large central fountain and the quiet murmur the 200 or more patrons already gathered to provide a comfortably elegant atmosphere. Banners hung from the mezzanine on the right side of the open space of the ground floor proclaimed the “Secrets of Roland Reid,” and many people were already circulating around the display cases. These housed magical baubles, notes, photographs, and even the former Master Mage’s iconic black-and-silver suit, complete with his famous Cloak of Flight. Others circulated on the left side of the museum, where symmetrical banners celebrated “Super Science of the Modern Age” amid displays of various advanced technologies, from both villains and heroes, scattered about in counterpoint to the magical displays.
“Hey, there’s Ryan Cope,” Chilz nudged the Blue Flame, jutting his chin toward the temporary dais, where a fit-looking, reddish-blond man in stylish contemporary tux-like suit was speaking to Director Latimer as they waited for their heroic guests of honor. “I’d heard his people would be catering this shindig, but wasn’t sure he’d show up himself.”
“Meh, I know we’re supposed to make an appearance at his new “restaurant experience” when it opens tomorrow, and yeah, they’re fun – you know I love pop-culture stuff – but c’mon! The food at Capes! is only so-so at best.” Jonny adjusted his mask absently. He and Chilz were both in human form, in deference to the setting. “I heard they were originally going to have some of our favorite food carts do the catering tonight, until Cope moved up the opening date of his new Astoria restaurant to match the museum’s opening.”
“Oh, you’re such a food snob, man!” Chilz laughed. “Sure, Capes! isn’t haute cuisine, but it’s OK, and the whole super-hero themed vibe is fun. You have to admit we always have fun at the Capes! in New Atlantis… Las Vegas… LA… and remember that time in Rio?”
“Yeah, yeah, they’re fun… and, well, Rio! But it’s so corporate now… I mean, he’s got what, more than 30 restaurants? And don’t get me started on the six hotels and three casinos! Ugh! Those food carts could’ve used the exposure a lot more than —“
The Blue Flame was forced to cut short his sotto voce complaint as the Vanguard stepped up onto the dais and, after a flurry of handshaking and greetings, arrayed themselves behind Director Latimer, Mr. Cope, and Devaj Achaya. Latimer stepped forward to the microphone at center stage and called for the crowd’s attention. The musicians paused their playing, and the susurration of conversation slowly died down as the crowd turned their eyes toward the stage.
“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to this gala opening of the West Coast branch of the Museum of Meta-Human Science and History. We are honored to have with us tonight not only members of Astoria’s premier superhero team, the Vanguard, who certainly need no introduction from me, but also Mr. Devaj Achaya. As the life-long companion and now widower of the late Roland Reid, he has generously agreed to loan the museum a number of rare and fascinating items from the life and collection of the former Magus Prime. These are at the heart of that half of our opening exhibition which deals with the mystical, magical and arcane aspects of world history and the meta-human experience.
“On the other side of coin, or more accurately the aisle, are the artifacts and devices of so-called super science — those machines, constructs and prototypes that, in the last century, have propelled science into realms once thought limited to fantasy. From Nikolai Tesla’s early forays into exotic energies and fantastically strong metals, through the many astounding inventions of Tom Swift, Clark “Doc” Savage, and Dr. Benton Quest, to the modern breakthroughs in matrix crystal technology of Drs. Mark and Elizabeth Sampson and their Momentum Foundation, you will find here a definitive cross-section of the cutting-edge technologies of the 20th and early 21st centuries.
“Hopefully the two halves of this exhibition will inspire you consider the dichotomy between traditional science, so-called super-science, and that which we call magic. Where is the dividing line between these disciplines, if in fact there is one at all? To further delve into these questions, and perhaps illuminate the direction current thinking is taking in the on-going attempt to synthesize them all into one theoretical whole, we will be hosting a series of seminars and debates, both here and at the Alden Morse Convention Center downtown, over the holiday weekend. Many of the field’s top minds will be there, including Dr. Mark Sampson, Tom Swift IV, and Dr. Kyle Steiner; we hope you will all join us for what promises to be a thought-provoking series of events.
“Now, before I turn you all loose to enjoy our exhibits and the wonderful food being provided this evening by the good friend of the Museum Mr. Ryan Cope and his amazing staff from Capes! I would like to mention some of those who’ve made this event possible. I’ve already noted the generous loans made by the estate of Roland Reid, of course, but other of his fellow members in the Liberty Alliance have also contributed many items from their own storied collection of trophies and mementos, gathered over the decades from heroes and villains alike. The Sampson family has also graciously —“
Latimer’s speech was cut short by a sudden eruption from the previously placid, burbling fountain in the center of the space. A geyser of water shot up almost to the central skylight, 30 feet above, to immediately cascade down again over the nearby crowd. A score or more of soaked patrons shrieked in startled outrage, and began moving away from the fountain.
But as the water sloshed back down into the basin, an ominous mist began to rise and roll out across the floor in every direction, and the move away from the fountain became a rush. Before the museum patrons had taken more than a few steps, however, a second more violent eruption occurred – this time it was a geyser of dark brown mud that shot up into the air.
It didn’t soar as high as the water had, and as it came down it stayed entirely within the basin, where it quickly began to form itself into a vaguely humanoid figure. When the transformation was complete a seven-foot tall golem of dripping mud stepped out of the fountain. When it spoke it was with a voice like rocks tumbling in a torrential flood. A French flood, apparently, by the creature’s accent.
“The Sampson’s? Ha! Those simpering amateurs don’t have a clue what to do with their power… but not to worry, mon amis, I assure you we do!” At that he flowed away from the fountain with shocking speed, and one amorphous arm snaked out over three meters to rip an emerald necklace from the neck of a gray-haired older woman. The crowd, momentarily frozen in place by the sudden uncanny arrival, now broke in a panicked rush to get away from the monster in their midst.
They spread out in every direction from the central fountain, but those who rushed for the exits quickly stumbled to a stop as a massive man-shaped mass of golden-amber crystal burst through the central of the three main doors, shattering the glass in all three and twisting their metal frames into abstract art. It roared a laugh that sounded like wind chimes in a hurricane, then grabbed a cowering patron and shook him. “Time to pay up, meine damen und herren!” it roared in heavily German-accented English. “Everything of value, into Der bag!”
At the same moment a man of living embers exploded through the museum’s central skylight, the air shimmering around him with a heat that vaporized the safety glass as it fell. He himself descended more slowly toward the panicked crowd, already half obscured by the increasingly dense mist that was filling the museum’s ground floor. His skin was the color and texture of charcoal, with an orange-red glow pulsing in the cracks of his charred-looking flesh. His hands were encased in what looked like asbestos gloves, almost up to the elbows, and they held two large canvas bags. The menace in his slow, silent approach made it obvious what he expected.
As the rest of his team leapt into action Scion hustled the civilians off the dais as he called up his tactical computer to learn what he could about the attackers. Devaj quickly took over, summoning a mystical shield as he led Latimer and Cope to the relative safety of the museums back office, allowing JJ to turn his full attention to his data feed and hacking into the museums control systems. He dimmed the lights, creating a much larger pool of shadows for Artemis to work with, then with a flick of his eye activated the team comms channel.
“Alright, listen up folks, looks like what we’ve got here are members of a French mercenary group turned super-criminal gang calling themselves the Fatale Quatre… the Fatal Four, in English. They used to work for Doctor Magnetik, until he sent them into the Iraqi dessert to find some mystical gems he wanted. Not clear if they went rogue on him before or after they were transformed by the gems, but since gaining their powers (and deformities) they’ve been on their own, mostly working in Europe and the Middle East. An appearance in the States is unusual for them.
Boue (Mudlside)
“The walking mountain of mud is Antione Boucher, aka Boue (or Mudslide) – he can stretch that disgusting form to incredible lengths and shape it into almost any configuration, is essentially intangible to most physical attacks, and is surprisingly strong. The crystalline hulk over there is Jürgen Heinz, aka Zirkon, the only German in the group. His quartz-like body is incredibly tough and his strength is immense… there are unconfirmed reports of an ability to fire off crystal shards like razor blades. The Burning Man reject is Jean-Philip Marizan, aka Cindré (called either Cinder or Ember in English) — he generates and projects lethal levels of heat, and can fly, although he’s not especially fast in the air.
Zirkon (Zircon)
“There’s a fourth member of the group, as their name would suggest — Gisele Auclair, aka Fumée (or Smoke). She’s completely non-corporeal, a creature of smoke and air, and a powerful telekinetic, which is the only way she can manipulate physical objects. She can’t go fully invisible, but she can be difficult to spot… I suspect this fog is her doing, so keep an eye out for her.”
Cindré (Ember or Cinder)
While Scion was filling in the team about the enemies they faced, Artemis had stepped back into the shadows behind the stair cases and around the feet of the giant statue of Ultra set between them, and vanished. She reappeared in the shadow of a pillar near the main doors, behind and to the left of Zirkon, and lashed out with her Shadow Whip. Its inky cords of twinned shadow wrapped around a translucent amber forearm, and she yanked with all her strength.
What would have pulled a less powerful foe completely off balance barely moved the behemoth, but it did force him to drop the tuxedoed museum patron he’d been holding up. The freed man scrambled madly away as Artemis released the whip’s grip and leapt forward, two fully charged shadow sticks suddenly in her hands… Zirkon didn’t move particularly fast, but his timing was impeccable. His backhanded blow managed to catch her in mid-leap, knocking her backward a dozen feet to slam into the pillar she’d appeared next to with enough force to make her see stars for a few seconds.
Totem remained on the dais, the better to survey the shape of the developing battle. His first thought was to cast his spell of the Sleeping Mists over the entire room… no, the risk of putting the crowd to sleep, but not the villains, was too great. Instead he focused his casting on what seemed to him the most powerful threat, Zirkon. The crystal giant seemed momentarily fascinated by the shining drops of green light as they fell around him, but they otherwise seemed to have no effect on him at all…
Quanta, on the other hand, thought that Mudslide seemed the more immediate threat, not to mention the closer one, and he moved to encase the man-shaped amorphous blob in a thick, tight shell of quantum matter. Unfortunately Boue simply oozed out of the trap in several directions, even as it formed. In seconds the several streams of muck flowed back together and he retook his humanoid shape several feet from the now useless shell. The hero let his artifact shimmer back into the quantum foam whence it had come…
Mudlside’s sudden transformation and displacement had the fortunate side benefit, at least from the villain’s point of view, of causing Chilz’ super-concentrated blast of sub-Arctic cold to entirely miss him. Instead it encased a display of ancient Hyperborean armor in a frozen shell, toppling the whole thing over with a sharp crack of shattering ice.
The Blue Flame rose to meet the descending Cinder, coming up from behind to tap the mercenary on the shoulder. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own temperature, asshole!” he said as he unleashed a plasma blast that sent the man tumbling away. This gave the Blue Flame time to vaporize a section of nearby glass wall, giving at least some of the panicked crowd an easy means of escape.
Scion finally joined the fray, hovering over Mudslide and sending a volley of highly-charged stun-balls into his oozing body while simultaneously trying to zap the brain the villain must surely still possess under all the muck. Boue simply shot the balls back out, missing several patrons only by chance. He seemed not to have noticed the brain zap at all.
Quanta’s quantum matter blast tore through the creature, to no effect – more accurately, Mudslide simply opened a hole in his torso through which the silvery stream of bucky balls passed. Quanta was forced to dissipate the attack with a muttered curse, before it could strike any unintended targets beyond the mercenary.
Overhead, Cinder had recovered from his momentary tumble caused by the Blue Flame’s plasma blasts and he came back swinging a searing fist, which passed through the hero as ineffectually as a bat through smoke. Blue Flame realized the two were at an impasse, neither able to really injure the other… maybe if heat was out, light might work? He aimed one of his dazzling bursts of blue-white light straight into the mercenary’s face.
Cinder just laughed. “Is that the best you can do, enfant?
Artemis, still a bit unsteady after repeated blows from Zirkon, some barely deflected and some not deflected at all, crouched atop a display case containing an old suit of power armor that had once belonged to the villain Juggernaut, back in the ’50s. At least she was keeping the hulking German distracted and away from the thinning crowd of museum patrons; but there was no way she was going to take him down like this – he was simply too strong, and invulnerable to any force she could bring to bear.
“Chilz,” she spoke quietly over the comms, “forget about Boue for the moment, Scion and Quanta can handle him. I need you over—“
She never finished the sentence as Zirkon’s arms reached wide, massive hands open, then slammed together with all his strength. The shockwave hit Artemis like truck, shattering the case on which she crouched and sending both her and the antique armor flying. She came down 15 feet away in a tangle of glass, armor and cape, and didn’t move.
Chilz and Quanta were both caught in the penumbra of the air blast, which nearly knocked them off their feet, leaving both momentarily disoriented. Totem, on the very edge of the shockwave, experienced no more than a sudden change in air pressure that made his ears pop. A dozen museum patrons were not so lucky, however, and were sent tumbling into displays or each other.
The mist coming off the fountain – smoke, actually Totem realized, catching a good whiff – was growing thicker and was already obscuring a good half of the museum’s first floor. Cindré chose that moment to abandon the mutually futile fight with the Blue flame, instead sending a blast of nearly invisible heat into the fountain’s remaining water. The resultant cloud of steam rose almost to the skylight, engulfing all the combatants.
The French mercenary might have expected to blind the heroes, but Scion had no need for the visual spectrum. Infrared was useless in the steam, but sonar clearly outlined the smug little bastard, and he landed a barrage of stun balls perfectly center-of-mass. Cindré tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle and came crashing down into a display case, momentarily stunned.
Chilz also found that, while he was as blind as anyone else in the roiled cloud of smoke and steam, some other sense told him exactly were Mudslide, and all that water he contained, was located. Complacent in his supposed invisibility, the villain never saw the ice cage forming around him until it was too late. He tried to ooze his way out as before, but this time the freezing air and ice slowed him down, and he was quickly encased.
Quanta had an excellent eye for spatial volumes and distances, and despite the shrouded environment in which he suddenly found himself, he knew exactly where both Zirkon and Cindré were when the steam rolled in, as well as the direction the Blue Flame was headed… there, that flash of brilliant blue plasma illuminated the cloud and a dark shape within, which staggered back… quanta dropped a large block of solid matter that should take out both the crystal giant and the obnoxious burning Frenchman.
The block did take Zirkon entirely by surprise, thanks to his teammate’s steamy diversion, and he staggered down under the sudden impact, driven to his knees, clearly dazed. Unfortunately, Scion’s attack had sent Cindré reeling out of range of the attack. Ah well, batting .500 isn’t bad, Quanta thought as he moved quickly toward where he knew Artemis had gone down.
As her teammate loomed out of the dissipating mists, Artemis slowly pulled herself to her feet, wincing at a strained muscle in her back. But already her remarkable healing ability was easing the pain, knitting the muscle and tendons back into their proper places. Kyle – Quanta– looked concerned, and she waved off his proffered hand, not ungraciously.
“I am fine, Quanta, thank you. You know I heal quickly.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you actually knocked out too many times before, Artemis… so, were you dreaming about Dracula just now?”
“Very droll, Quanta.” Her glance at him didn’t seem particularly amused, but on the other hand, she hadn’t laid him out. “It would be unwise of me to do so, even if I was inclined… a useful ability, if one doesn’t want the Lord of Vampires showing up on your doorstep.”
“You have an entire ability devoted to not dreaming of Dracula?” He just couldn’t stop himself. “That is hard-core!”
“I also have an entire ability devoted to not smacking you when you’re being particularly asinine. Now, shall we try to wrap this up? The steam has dissipated, and the smoke seems to be thinning as well…”
Which was true, Quanta realized, although there was now a faint odor of sulphur dioxide in the air. But before he could mention it to Artemis, there was a series of sharp cracks as Chilz’ ice tomb encasing Mudslide blew apart explosively. Chilz was knocked backward, but still did his best to protect the remaining patrons trapped behind him.
Artemis saw Zirkon staggering back to his feet, his attention drawn to a knot of museum-goers trapped, with him between them and the wrecked doors. Before the monster could do more than take a step in their direction, she hurled her shadow sticks at the wall of glass behind the civilians, blowing it out in a glittering spray. The patrons needed no further encouragement and raced en masse for the sudden opening, while Zirkon turned to glare at Artemis.
Cindré pulled himself up from the wreckage of the display cases he’d landed amongst, the metal frames warping and the glass turning soft around him, and barely managed to roll away from Quanta’s attempt to encase him. In doing so he nearly ran straight into Scion’s next blast of stun balls, and only the massive bulk of a jet engine from one of Sky Master’s old planes saved him.
At the same time a recovered Chilz was raining down freezing hail on Mudslide, who simply seemed to absorb the attack. It did seem to be slowing him down a bit, Chilz thought, and he prepared to send another wave of sub-arctic cold rolling over the muddy maniac – only to see the mercenary vanish in a sudden flash of red flame and black smoke.
Across the room identical clouds of fire and brimstone engulfed the other two villains, and when it cleared, leaving only the rotten-egg odor behind, they too were gone.
The Meta Museum, ground floor.
•• •• ••
Once the Vanguard finished a quick debrief with both the police and a hastily dispatched agent from the local SHADE office, and he was sure the medical needs of the frightened and/or injured guests were being seen to, Jason Latimer approached the heroes, Devaj on his heels. The director looked distraught, and even the usually unflappable Devaj seemed visibly worried.
“Thank you for help this evening,” Latimer began, a weak smile briefly lighting his face. “This could have been so much worse… but as it is, at least two artifacts are missing from the displays, that we can be sure of: Arkanos’ Cloak of Flight and one of the Bloodstones of the Voracious.
“The cloak isn’t especially powerful or dangerous,” Devaj put in. “Mostly it has sentimental value for me. But I’m rather more concerned about the Bloodstone. I do not know much about it from personal experience, beyond the fact that it is one of a set of five identical stones; but I do know Roland thought them extraordinarily dangerous.
“The Voracious was, and I suppose still is, a most terrible entity. Sometimes also referred to as the Oathbreaker, the Devourer, and the Eater of Gods, any artifacts associated with this particular entity would be most destructive in the wrong hands. Roland recovered all five of the Bloodstones some years ago, alongside his young apprentice, Sabra. She may know considerably more concerning them than I.”
While Devaj was speaking to the heroes, Director Latimer’s phone rang, and he stepped away to take the call. After a brief conversation he returned to the group, even more visibly upset than before.
“Oh dear God. I just got off the phone with Professor Ashrok at Astoria City University. The museum loaned the University the other Bloodstone from Arkanos’ collection, for certain tests they wished to run on it. But it was stolen this afternoon. The stone… not the university. This… this is going to be an insurance nightmare.”
Devaj patted the younger man on the back and made soothing noises as he led him back to the office where they had sheltered during the attack, assuring him it would all be alright. He nodded to the heroes and gave them an encouraging smile.
Artemis sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “As soon as I heard about the Bloodstones, and the that they were a set, I was afraid of this – clearly, someone must be trying to gather all five of the Bloodstones of the Voracious.”
“Yes, it pushes the limits of believability to suggest two of the stones being stolen, on the same day, could be coincidence,” Scion agreed. “Still, it might not have been the same group behind the University theft. I think we should check out the crime scene there, learn what we can.”
“I’m more interested in where those bastards got off to, and exactly how,” Quanta interjected. “Scion, you said they’re known to use teleportation, but that this smoke and fire schtick is new. I assume the it’s window dressing, for whatever reason, and that they’re using some sort of teleportation tech or meta ability. I’ve been working on something with my own quantum tunneling and my post-cognition sense, and it’s just possible I might be able to track them.”
“If you can, that would be extremely helpful,” Totem shrugged. “But I suspect their method of escape will prove to be magical in nature.” He ignored Quanta’s grimace of annoyance as his friend stepped away to try his tracking luck, and went on. “That sulfurous effect is more commonly connected to infernal or demonic magic than to the elemental magic that empowers the Fatal Four… and didn’t your report say they open a single portal, much like Quanta does? This was three, possibly four separate, teleportations. “
“Four — I’m certain that Fumée was also present tonight,” Artemis said. “None of the other three had the opportunity to purloin the missing artifacts, but they certainly provided the distraction for her to do so.”
“Well, in my experience there are maybe half-a-dozen entities currently in the world that might be behind such a feat,” Totem went on. “Tethra of the Formorri, although I believe he is still in SHADE custody; the Brood of the Bronze Claw, certainly a likely possibility, given their involvement in the attack on the Sanctum Primus; the Crimson Mask; the Greek god Hades, that racist terrorist the White Knight, and the Succubus. She hasn’t been seen in several years, that I’m aware of, but I know she’s still around.
“I think that we should do as Devaj suggested, and try to contact Sabra. She is clearly the person with the most knowledge of the Bloodstones, and she may have some angle on this that we’re missing. I have her scrying mirror with me…”
“Hey, I think I’ve got it,” Quanta called out, motioning the others over to where he stood. It was a spot midway between where Zirkon and Cindré had vanished, as they’d been fairly near to one another. “It’s hard to describe exactly, but their exit locus appears to be a little over two miles away and about 160 feet up… a penthouse apartment, I think. I can’t give you coordinates, but I can open a tunnel to it.”
“OK, if there’s any chance they’re still there, we should go in force,” Scion said. “Totem, we’ll contact Sabra after we investigate this penthouse, I think time might be of the essence here.”
In the event, a show of force proved unnecessary. The place was indeed a small Uptown penthouse in a boutique hotel, two miles away on Coxcomb Hill. An empty penthouse, the heroes realized as soon as they stepped through Quanta’s shimmering portal. Clearly, the evildoers had moved on immediately after the heist, too smart to linger so close to the scene of their crime. A summoning circle was etched into the hardwood floor, the only tangible evidence that this was the right place.
“Well, the housekeeping staff’s going to be pretty, pretty upset by this,” Chilz said, touching an icy toe to the edge of the graven circle.
“No doubt,” Totem said distractedly, his focus clearly turned inward. “But this wasn’t a wasted trip. The mystical energy signature here, and details of this summoning circle, have narrowed the list of suspects down to one. I have little doubt now that the Succubus is back; and no doubt at all that she is the one behind the Fatal Four’s vanishing act.”
“Perhaps now is the time to contact Sabra,” Artemis suggested. “Unless you or Quanta can track her and her minions to their next destination?”
“Sorry, I’ve been trying, “Quanta said,” but I’m just not getting anything coherent… even my post-cognition seems screwy in here, like something’s creating an interference patter.” Totem just shook his head and shrugged.
“I’ll leave you to interview Sabra,” Scion said. “I’m going to head to the University now. The trail there is undoubtedly too cold for any tracking, so no need for the entire team. Blue Flame, you’re with me however, since you used to work at the University and that fact could prove useful.”
As his two teammates stepped out onto the wide balcony of the penthouse and launched themselves skyward, Totem pulled the small silver mirror, which Sabra had given him on their last meeting, from his belt and peered into it. He focused his thoughts on his friend, and after a moment the glass wavered, shimmered, and his reflection vanished, replaced by the image of Lady Sabra’s throne room in the extra-dimensional Dark World.
Sabra’s raven-haired form, dressed today in a light gray gown, trimmed with pale blue, rather than her usual white and blue costume, could be seen in profile, rolling her eyes at some sort of fairy-like creature next to her. “— don’t care if corn is new and scary. People need to eat. Have them- Oh?” She turned and met Totem’s eyes.
“Cooper! It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you… is this a social call, or Vanguard business?”
“The latter, I’m afraid, there’s been another problem involving Arkanos’ leftovers,” Totem replied. “And it’s only been three months since we last spoke.”
“Three months for you, my friend, but you know time passes more variably over here — it’s been well over a year since out last chat.” With that, she gestured and the living room of the penthouse seemed to break apart, dissolving away, until the four members of the Vanguard found themselves standing with Sabra on floating fragments of grassy turf, adrift in a kaleidoscopic void of misty rainbow colors.
“There, that’s better. I may still be constrained from returning to Earth, but I am getting stronger, and I can at least create this psychic meeting place for us to actually interact like real people… that mirror is so confining. Now tell me, what’s happened now?”
Totem quickly filled in the former Magus Prime on the evenings events, and the items stolen by the Fatal Four, as well as his certainty that the Succubus was also somehow involved. Sabra was not best pleased at the news.
“They stole the Bloodstones?! Oh, by the Lords of Order and Chaos… I told Devaj something like this would happen. He assured me the museum would bring on ‘adequate security.’ Oh… I guess he meant you guys…”
Artemis ignored this, she was sure unintentional, slight. “Sabra, what can you tell us about these Bloodstones of the Voracious?”
“Well, I first learned of them on my own very first adventure with Arkanos. We took them from this doomsday cult, who were using them to juice up the power harvested from their human sacrifices. I learned then that those things are dangerous, as they greatly augment the mystical power derived from ANY act of sacrifice.
“To the naked eye they appear to be five flawless rubies, each the size of a large walnut, but they’re also arcane batteries that absorb specific types of psychic energy — those of pain, death, and destruction. Legends claim they formed from the literal blood of an ancient, malevolent, alien entity when it arrived on Earth to consume an arrogant god. In the ensuing battle the creature spilt only five drops of its own blood before it devoured the god. Which, by the way, is how it gained one of its names — the Devourer.
“Because of the Bloodstone’s ability to transform the suffering of others into raw arcane power, good mages like Roland have always tried to keep the artifacts dispersed across the world, so as to keep the full set away from the evil and the ambitious. And if someone’s got all five again…
“But wait, no… Roland only kept one or two of the damned things after we confiscated them. Well, he hung onto all of them for awhile, to study, but eventually he made me come with him to return three of them to the places from which the cult had stolen them.”
“What can someone do with the Bloodstones?” Chilz asked.
“I mean, there was a whole doomsday cult based around them, so… rather a lot, I suspect. As ancient artifacts, associated with a pretty horrific and alien Elder God, they act like lenses to magnify pain and sacrifice. The more lenses arranged together, the bigger the magnification. Even without a sacrifice, though, they’re dripping with arcane energy. If Succubus has two already, she’s probably getting a magical power-up just holding them.”
“What do you know about this Succubus character?” Quanta asked. “How dangerous is she without the Bloodstones?”
“Pretty dangerous, actually. She’s a human woman… I think her name was Allman… possessed by a powerful demonic spirit. The link between them is unusually strong. Arkanos never managed to break it, at least not permanently, although he tried at least twice. She possesses powerful demonic magics, including hellfire blasts, summoning, illusions, and an ability to sap willpower and induce lust. Succubi are spirits of jealousy, too, and as such she can both shapeshift and manipulate the emotions of others.
“Come to think of it… jealousy is her whole thing. If the Succubus is after the Bloodstones of the Voracious, she’s probably feeling insecure about her magical abilities and thinks she can use the stones to augment her hell-born powers. Actually, I need to look into the possibilities here more deeply…”
“Where can we find the remaining three Bloodstones?” Artemis prompted, as the younger woman seemed to become lost in thought. “To where did you and Arkanos return them ?”
“Oh, yes… let me think. One was in Kurunda, in Africa. It had been a part of the royal treasury, before the cultists stole it. I remember it well, because I had to learn some Kurindi for the Ceremony of Return. Another one went to an old ruin in Antarctica, in a place called the Valley of the Bleeding Ice. That place was creepy, and I have to admit, it spooked me back then! The last Bloodstone we returned to the Master of Tyr’Ana in Terra Cava, the Hollow Earth. He was… not especially grateful, as I remember.”
“They stole Arkanos’ Cloak of Flight,” Chilz offered. “Could that have any bearing on these magical rocks, and what they might be planning?”
“The Cloak of Flight?” Sabra looked surprised, and shrugged. “It’s not an especially powerful artifact, as such things go. I’m guessing someone wants it more as a trophy, than for any specific nefarious purpose. Or maybe she just wants to fly.”
“What do you know about the Fatal Four?” Artemis picked up the questioning. “Is there any previous connection between Succubus and them that you know of?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no. They’re a pack of greedy mercenaries who got cursed by powerful magical gems they’d been hired to “acquire” by Dr. Magnetík of Illyria. Arkanos once tried to help them return to their human forms when they sought his help, but the only solution he found would’ve permanently removed their powers. They didn’t go for it… they very violently did not go for it! Although I think the smoke woman might have, if the others hadn’t gotten so… insistently resistant.
“They don’t really have any secret Achilles heel that I know of, beyond what they’re made of. Fumée can’t touch anything, and Cindre’s not much better off, even with those asbestos gloves. Boue can be frozen solid, I know, and maybe dried out? Zirkon’s solid and incredibly durable, but rather slow – in several senses of the word, if you know what I mean.”
“Sabra, do you know why Roalnd insisted on returning the Bloodstones to their original owners?” Totem asked. “Why not keep and protect them all himself?”
“I’m not entirely sure of his reasoning,” she shrugged. “Except that it’s generally a good idea to NOT keep an entire set of evil artifacts in one place for too long, even in the Sanctum. In any case, I assume you’ve come to me because you think the remaining three Bloodstones are likely the Succubus’ next targets, yes?”
“Indeed,” Artemis acknowledged. “Any help you can provide that might assist us in stopping her and her crew would be greatly appreciated.”
“Well, of course, I’m always happy to help old friends,” Sabra said, smiling at Totem. “It’s vital we keep the Bloodstones out of her hands… but there is little I can do directly, not from here, beyond giving you the specific coordinates of the remaining stones. I’ll also continue to research what the Succubus might be up to in gathering them all together, and keep you posted as I learn more.”
After providing the promised information and a few more minutes of general socializing, Sabra regretfully indicated that she had to return to her duties. Once the good-byes had been said the connection slowly faded away, leaving the Vanguard standing in the empty penthouse once again.
“Well, where to first?” Quanta asked with a sigh.
•• •• ••
Africa, as it turned out.
Scion and the Blue Flame’s investigation at ACU had gone quickly, the evidence of Mudlside’s presence, and his arrival via the water pipes, being very clear once they knew what to look for. After their return to Vanguard HQ, and a mutual exchange of information, it was decide that Africa was the logical choice to continue the case, as the continent held two of the three Bloodstones. Kurunda would be their first stop…
Early the next morning the Interceptor was climbing to sub-orbital altitudes for the three hour flight to central Africa as Jonny slurped his coffee and tried to get his brain in gear.
“I appreciate being able to get some sleep,” he said, yawning, “but shouldn’t we have taken off last night? I mean, how hard could it be for these super-crooks to steal the Bloodstone from some backwards, third-world country?”
Artemis, swiveling her station chair to face him, actually laughed. “Is that what you think of Kurunda? If so, I can only assume you’ve not been keeping up with my suggested reading in the archives.”
Jonny slouched down in his own station chair, shoulders hunching in a defensive shrug. “We’ve been busy lately, and there IS an awful lot to read. Besides,” he muttered, “I thought I was done with homework once I graduated from high school.”
“Yes, well, the homework never really ends, not if you want to be good at this job,” Artemis sighed, her usual inscrutable demeanor back in place. “But I suppose it’s appropriate I give a quick refresher course for the whole team, in case there are others who are equally uninformed about our destination.
“Not that it’s surprising if anyone holds a similar view, I suppose — thanks to Kurunda’s longstanding policy of isolation and secrecy, much of the general public still regards the country as little more than a traditional Sub-Saharan African kingdom, if an unusually stable one. They purposefully downplay the fact that the nation has somehow evaded colonial rule throughout its history, and since they import very little and, until recently, export even less, its a fairly easy illusion to maintain.
“In point of fact, however, Kurunda is amongst the wealthiest and most technologically advanced nations on Earth. They established a thriving technological base long before most European nations did, thanks primarily to a unique wealth of uruite ore and kundalini crystals found in the region. Today, most menial or difficult labor is automated, which leaves the citizens of Kurunda free to study what interests them, with science, art, and the humanities all being immensely popular.
“Despite the general secrecy, the other governments of world are, of course, well aware of the true nature of Kurunda, as is the Alliance. Indeed, it’s because the nation is also home to the hero called the Golden Cheetah, who protects her people from outside threats, that most people outside of Africa have even heard of Kurunda. When she joined the Liberty Alliance post-Invasion it brought an unusual attention to her homeland, for a time.”
“The rest of the world has been catching up with the Kurundans in the last half century, though,” Quanta added. “Despite which, they still maintain a slight technological edge, so I think our friends in the Fatal Four might find it more challenging than expected to extract the gemstone from their custody.”
“Indeed,” Artemis agreed. “Kurunda’sBloodstone of the Voracious was part of a ceremonial headdress taken from a defeated crocodile cult when they acquired it about a century ago. After its last theft it is now kept in a secure vault in one of the National Treasury Buildings in the capital city of K’yangu. As I understand it, the kundalini crystals incorporated into the building’s security system prevent anyone, including even the Magus Prime, supposedly, from teleporting into or out of it. “
K’yangu, Capital of Kurunda
“Besides,” Scion added from the cockpit, “thanks to their isolationist policies, getting approval to cross the border, let alone visit sensitive government buildings, can take weeks, assuming we went through normal channels. Fortunately, I have some government connections there, and that let me cut through much of the red tape — but not all of it. I still needed those extra hours you were sleeping to get us permission to enter Kurunda at all.”
Security Director Gawiji D’Nali
Despite those connections it was still a day and a half after they landed in K’yangu before the Vanguard were finally able to meet with Internal Security DirectorGawiji D’Gali. Having worked with the Golden Cheetah over the years — and by extension many Western superheroes — D’Gali was more accustomed to dealing with the meta-human community than many of his countrymen, and actually listened to what the American heroes had to share. Initially skeptical of strangers arriving and requesting entry to his nation’s stronghold of wealth, the hero’s presented a strong enough argument that he personally escorted them to the National Treasury Building… along with two of his own high-tech armored and armed security guards.
The National Treasury Building appeared, from the outside, to be a large traditional Nubian-style domed brick building, surrounded by beautiful landscaping, while in the walled entrance garden two fountains burbled amidst lush tropical foliage. The charmingly provincial appearance was quickly belied, on closer inspection, by the variety of high-tech surveillance and alarm systems, as well as the guards carrying energy weapons.
Kurunda National Treasury Building
“As you can see, our defenses are strong,” Director D’Gali said as they stepped into the building’s first security zone after he’d used the biometric ID system to open the massive bronze exterior doors. In the small vestibule two armored and armed soldiers stood at attention, and Scion’s sensors detected several weapons systems within the walls trained on them.
“But these are just the basic, physical, defenses,” D’Gali continued as he pressed his palm to the control panel for the inner doors. “There are sophisticated teleportation blockers built into the structure, there are no air vents or ducts larger than 10 cm in diameter, and even those have visual and energy sensors embedded within. Even the electrical system is entirely self-contained, with no external connection to the larger power grid. Aside from these doors, there is no other way into this structure.”
“What about the water system?” Chilz asked as they all stepped into the large reception area beyond the first security zone. “Does this place have its own water system as well?”
“Well, no,” the Director replied, frowning. “The fire suppression system is not water-based in the document chambers, given the fragile nature of many of the papers preserved here– it’s a halogen gas system, and entirely self-contained. The toilet facilities, however, are connected to the larger municipal system… as is the sprinkler system in the central vault, come to think of it. But both are regularly monitored for pressure, flow, and so on. No device should be able to gain access that way.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a device,” Chilz muttered to the Blue Flame as D’Gali turned to check in his party with the soldier manning the security desk in the reception area. Once the formalities were taken care of the young man touched a button on his console and the set of doors on the left side of the curved room slid open silently.
The group stepped through in a larger chamber which curved gradually to the right, clearly following the exterior line of the circular building. The room was filled with racks and shelves, lining the walls from floor to ceiling, all loaded with electronically locked document cases. Interspersed between the shelves were occasional sealed glass cases containing individual documents on display. Several long tables ran down the center of the room, comfortable-looking chairs tucked neatly under them.
D’Gali led them briskly to the door at the far end of the room, which slid open at their approach… a clue that they were being watched by the soldier at the security desk Artemis noted. The next room was very similar in shape to the first, but was more atmospherically lit. Spotlights highlighted display cases of varying sizes along the walls, each of which contained intriguing looking artifacts, from ancient weapons or armor, to a massive dragon’s skull, mounted at the center of the outer wall.
Directly across from the skull an airlock-like structure jutted out from the curve of the inner wall. D’Gali stopped before the massive steel door set in its face and briefly fiddled with another biometric ID system, and the door split open with a hiss of pressurized air. The chamber revealed was rather small, too small to contain the entire group.
“Apologies,” Director D’Gali said, “but as you can see no more than four people can be accommodated from this point. Captain Astor, Artemis, I assume you will wish to accompany me?”
“I’ll join the party too,” Quanta put in quickly, before Jonny could do more than open his mouth.
At the control pad to the inner door D’Gali paused and considered. “Not that I’m expecting any trouble, really, but I suppose it would be foolish to cut ourselves off from our available resources… therefore I am overriding the usual security protocols, to allow the outer door to stay open once I open the inner door. That way, should the need arise, both your teammates and my own men can reach us quickly.”
A quick series of entries on the key pad, and the heavy inner doors slid silently open, and the four stepped into the large circular space of the central vault. Ten meters in diameter, with a softly glowing dome eight meters overhead, the room was lined floor to ceiling with 13 very high-tech-looking cylinders of “safe deposit” boxes of varying sizes. And standing on the far side of the vault, in the very process of ripping open one of those boxes, was the leader of the Fatal Four, Mudslide.
Apparently oblivious to his sudden audience, the elemental mercenary reached into the box’s recesses and pulled out the Bloodstone. He held it up triumphantly, and bellowed out a deep, burbling laugh. “Three down, two to go, and we—“
“Put down that gem at once!” demanded a furious Director D’Gali, striding into the vault with the American heroes on his heels. He tapped a button on his watch and alarms began to sound, the lights dimmed, and red emergency lights began to strobe. Behind him, titanium-uruite bars slammed down across the doorway, and by the sound of it across doorways through the the building.
Boue’s bellow turned from laughter to a growl, and he lunged forward, his body enlarging and rising up, preparing to drop down and engulf the interfering fool. But Scion moved faster, interposing himself between D’Gali and the villain, and as the mud wave surrounded him the hero shot a jolt of bio-electric energy through his armor’s outer shell.
As Boue reeled back, regaining his more humanoid shape, Artemis vaulted forward over Scion and made a grab for the Bloodstone still held in one large, misshapen hand. A pseudo-pod of dense mud shot out and caught he in mid-leap, however, sending her slamming into the wall.
Given the relative success of his bio-shock attack, Scion attempted to immobilize Mudslide with his Tangle Field, but the villain simply oozed through the mesh, the electrical charge seeming little more than an annoyance to him – clearly unpleasant, but hardly debilitating.
“Give it up, Mudslide,” Quanta called out as the elemental once again reformed into something vaguely humanoid in shape. “The place is sealed off now, you can’t leave the way you came in, through the fire suppression pipes – at least not with the stone — and even if you could get past the Vanguard, the entire Kurundan army is moving to surround the building. Surrender! You’re French, it should be easy.”
“The name is Boue, you, ignorant American tool,” Boue snarled. “And I haven’t begun to show you what a Frenchman–“
As Quanta had hoped, using his hated American name and goading him had made the Frenchman inattentive – the half-ton of materialized quantum matter dropped onto him without warning. Unfortunately the very nature of his curse made him resistant, if not actually invulnerable, to the attack. His mud form splooshed out around the edges of the slab, but even as the quantum matter evaporated he was already pulling himself back together. And the Bloodstone remained firmly engulfed in his fist.
In disgust, Boue ignored the American’s further attempts to engage him in witless banter , and oozed toward the exit. Bars were no more a hinderance to him than police tape would have been; he passed between them and into the airlock without slowing. The foolish Africans would have been better off if they had simply closed the vault door — even he could have found no crack to exploit then. As it was, once he was past the heroes in the outer room, he would be “home free” as the Americans liked to say. While they struggled to disarm the system and raise the gates, he would simply move through them and on to freedom.
The first of those obstacles, which he’d rather airily dismissed, was the Blue Flame, who hovered in the air just beyond the bars blocking the outer door. There was nowhere to dodge, other than back into the vault, and he took the full brunt of a plasma blast, center-of-mass. Boue could feel the moisture evaporate from his body, the elemental earth portion of his matrix becoming harder and less motile… cracks appeared when he flexed or turned, and he staggered slightly.
From inside the vault, where Scion was working quickly to disarm the alarm system with the help of Director D’Gali, Quanta saw his teammate’s attack on their foe. He took the opportunity to attempt to encase Baked Mudslide in a cocoon of nanocarbon but, while the mercenary was less malleable, he was still immensely strong, and he shattered the structure as it formed.
Artemis, meanwhile, pulled D’Gali aside as Scion worked on the controls. “Director, do the teleportation shields surround the building, as a whole, or are they embedded in the walls of the entire structure?”
“Well, that is classified, of course, but under the circumstances… yes, the shield is contiguous with the outer structure. We saw no need to run it through the interior walls; even in Kurunda such technology is not cheap! But why do you ask?”
“Oh, I have an idea,” Artemis replied, and smiled.
In the artifact room beyond the airlock Chilz took a blast of mud to the chest, but barely felt it. Mudlside appeared to be rehydrating, probably pulling moisture from the environment, much as Chilz did himself, but he clearly wasn’t quite back to the strength he’d had in their fight back in Astoria. Which gave Chilz an idea…
As Mudslide moved forward to ooze through the bars and into the larger room, where he’d have more maneuverability and more tactical options, Chilz threw up a meter-thick wall of ice across the doorway. The Frenchman slammed against it, but could not penetrate it, and he drew back in frustration.
Chilz, however, had no trouble penetrating the barrier. Stepping up to the ice plug he passed into the ice, becoming one with it, squeezing, as it did, between the metal bars… and stepped out the other side.
“Give it up, Mudslide,” he said. “There’s no way out, so let’s just call it a day and save everyone some trouble, OK. Surrender, already!”
“Feh, enough with your puerile American humor,” Boue roared, and he punched the taunting hero hard enough to send him flying back into his own ice barrier, which cracked slightly under the impact. “Why we ever gave you imbeciles the Statue of Liberty I will never understand!”
Chilz had felt that blow – unlike the ranged mud blast, this had been a round-house punch, backed with all the villain’s considerable mass. Plus, Chilz had been steadily lowering the temperature in the small space, and slowly freezing the moisture in the other elemental’s body. This made him denser, true, but it was also slowing him down noticeably…
He returned a round-house punch of his own, knocking Mudlside’s lower jaw out of alignment – if he’d been human the blow would have torn the lower half of his face clean off. As it was, it dazed the mercenary, who failed to notice the bars rising up behind him. Nor was he aware of Scion aiming one of his Brain Zaps point blank into his head.
Completely staggered by that one-two attack, the stunned villain was unable to stop Artemis as she slipped past Scion, vaulted over the dazed Boue, snatched the Bloodstone from his weakened grip, and vanished into shadow.
Staggering back to his feet, Boue realized that with the stone gone, and no doubt beyond his reach for now, escape was his only priority. Even if that bastard Scion hadn’t already sealed off the fire suppression pipes, he was in no condition to use that trick now. What he needed was to get out of this trap…
The fractures in the ice wall, from Chilz slamming into it, were his ticket out. Feinting a blow to the ice giant, he liquified a hand and arm and hit the wall behind the hero. His matter penetrated the cracks, expanding and as it went, enlarging them, creating more… in less than a second the wall exploded into a hundred pieces.
He instantly oozed past Chilz and through the bars, which were already rising back into the ceiling, freed from the ice that had locked them in place. Great, his path to freedom was wide open now —
Chilz, the Blue Flame and Quanta triple-teamed Mudlside before he was halfway across the room. Frozen, dehydrated and squashed, he was also attacked by the Kurunda security forces, wielding Omnium energy swords. Which really hurt, even in his elemental form.
When the Blue Flame pinned him within a cage of searing plasma, he knew his only hope now was surrender. A tactical surrender. He made no attempt to resist as the American ice elemental froze him solid, but he was grinning inwardly…
With Mudlside immobilized in ice, the Blue Flame released his energy cage form and reverted to his humanoid shape. Quanta, wanting to take no chances, encased the cryogenically incapacitated villain in a thick shell of quantum matter. It was only after he’d finished that he had second thoughts.
“He doesn’t have to breathe, does he?” he asked Chilz, a little worried.
“I don’t have to, in this form,” his friend shrugged. “I doubt he does either. I wouldn’t sweat it. I mean, if being frozen solid didn’t kill him, a minor lack of air sure won’t.”
A newly arrived squad of now redundant back-up soldiers quickly had the doubly encased villain loaded upon a lift pallet, and they slowly made their way through the Treasury Building to the entrance, the heroes and Director D’Gali trailing behind.
“Artemis has secured your Bloodstone in our headquarters in Astoria, Director,” Scion assured their dubious host. “She’s just relayed that message to me through the Interceptor, and she’ll be joining us again in a moment.”
“Will she be returning with the gem, then?” D’Gali asked, frowning.
‘If you insist on it sir, certainly. But there is an on-going threat involving these stones, and until we resolve it I think it would be best if we retain custody of your Bloodstone. Our security is at least as tight as yours… and there is the added advantage that our enemies now do not know where the stone is.”
“Ha, you make a good point, Captain Astor,” D’Gali said, and gave a heavy sigh. “My own security clearly needs to be reviewed and upgraded… so, if you will undertake responsibility for this royal treasure, I will agree to leave it in your hands until it is safe for it to be returned to us.”
They had just past out of the Treasury Building and into the serene walled garden around it, and as they shook hands Artemis stepped out of the shadows around a nearby cluster of palm trees and flowering bushes. She nodded to her co-leader, and then her eye was caught by the silvery encased form of Boue. Her eyes widened.
“Scion! Are there portable teleport shields around Mr. Boucher? I don’t see–“
She was interrupted by a muffled “whump” of imploding air from within the quantum shell encasing the prisoner. Everyone, except the poor Kurandans, realized what had just happened, confirmed when Quanta dissolved the shell. Antoine Boucher was gone, only the stench of sulfur and a wisp of smoke left behind…
••••••
Fortunately for the Vanguard, Director D’Gali was disinclined to blame them overmuch for escape of the leader of the Fatal Four. They had, after alll, briefed him on the circumstance around the robberies in Astoria – he should also have given some thought to what would happen once they moved their prisoner away from the Treasury. He confirmed his decision to leave his country’s Bloodstone in the heroes’ hands, and did nothing to delay their urgent departure to seek the next stone.
And the next stop on the Vanguard’sBloodstone World Tour was a remote and desolate highland in the northern reaches of South Africa. Since the country was an Alliance-signatory nation, and the Vanguard were acknowledged Allianceassociates, clearances were granted with relative ease and speed. It was mid-afternoon on the same day of Mudslide’s stymied attempt in Kurunda when the Interceptor set down on a rocky plateau, near a large cave entrance that was known to be the entrance to Terra Cava closest to the ancient subterranean city of Tyr’Ana.
Signs of a decades-past mining operation, rusted and decaying, were visible around the wide, dark cavern mouth as the Vanguard began their descent into the depths. Lit by the powerful searchlight in Scion’s armor and shimmering witch-light conjured by Totem, at first the path was clearly man-made, a result of the mining effort. Eventually, however, they came to a large chamber with a tremendous crack running down the far wall. Beyond that fissure began a series of natural caverns and twisting passages, all leading ever deeper into the earth.
After several hours of walking through the strangely beautiful and haunting subterranean pathways, the Vanguard stepped out onto a large rocky shelf overlooking a truly vast cavern — at least two kilometers across and more than half a kilometer high. A dim, ruddy light emanated from numerous fissures in the stalagmite-riddled ceiling, illuminating a strange and ancient-looking city that rose at the cavern’s heart. It was a city of massive, blocky stone towers and disturbing serpentine archways, that left the heroes slightly unsettled.
“There is no freaking way this can exist underneath the our world,” Chilz choked out after a moment, breaking the awed silence that had fallen over the group at the sudden vista.
Tyr’Ana, Ancient City of Terra Cava
“No,” Artemis agreed, shaking off the strange, hieratic mood herself. “And Dr. Sampson proved that years ago, after the Sampson family’s first encounter with the subterranean denizens of Terra Cava. It is, in fact, one of the many pocket dimensions with which our world is riddled, and I would guess we passed the dimensional interface between Earth and the so-called “Hollow Earth” sometime shortly after we left the mine proper.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re the only ones,” Scion said grimly, pointing toward the city. “I’m afraid at least one of the Fatal Four is here before us.”
A grand, palatial structure loomed over the center of the city, and it was not difficult to understand Scions statement. A path of destruction wound from the base of the cliffs they stood atop into the heart of the city – numerous bodies, scattered around the stone pavement amidst scorch-marks, cracked stone paving, partially collapsed buildings, and columns of smoke marked the path of what had to be one or more of the villainous group.
As they quickly descended from the heights to the cavern floor, the heroes saw that the scattered bodies were not exactly human. The small, squat figures had pelts of short pale fur, which covered most of their bodies, and enormous eyes set beneath jutting brow ridges. Most were clad in little more than equipment harnesses or belts of various utilitarian configurations. Odd-looking pikes and clubs lay tossed about the dead and unconscious forms.
“Huh… actual Mole People,” the Blue Flame muttered, more to himself than the group. “Doesn’t look like they had much of a chance against those bastards, poor little guys.”
Terra Cavan of Tyr’Ana (Moloid)
The trail of violence lead through the ancient, but clearly well cared for city, to a central plaza, over which loomed the palatial edifice they’d seen from a distance. Wide, shallow steps lead up to a pillared portico, from the center of which a great pier of stone jutted out into the plaza. At the end of the stone tongue a huge spherical construct of twisted and entwined metal sat, abstract art or something else entirely no one was sure. It glowed with a faint golden light, made coppery by the ambient ruddy “natural” light of the cavern. The massive double doors into the palace, or whatever, set at the center of the wall along the portico, were rent open as if by some great force. A powerful drumbeat was throbbing and echoing from within the dim interior…
Royal Plaza in front of the Master’s Palace
As the Vanguard reached the foot of the stairs, Zirkon and Cindre burst out of the doorway, various Terra Cavan moloids hanging off of them or pursuing them with intent. Zirkon shrugged his massive crystalline shoulders as he plowed out of the building, and sent half a dozen of the little people flying into walls and pillars. Three of the defenders that attempted to pull down Cindre burst into flames as soon as they met his heat aura… their shrieks were heart-wrenching.
“Zirkon has the Bloodstone,” Totem called out. “You can see it glowing in that huge translucent first.” With a gesture he sent out blue bands of mystical energy, to wrap the hulking mercenary in the Azure Bonds, pinning his massive arms to his body. The Blue Flame took to the air and released a Dazzling Burst, hoping to blind or at least slow down the two villains.
Zirkon gave a mighty shrug, and the Azure Bonds splintered into shards of blue light that quickly dissolved back into the aether; and while the Blue Flame’s brilliant flare of light blinded half-a-dozen Terra Cavans, it failed to make either mercenary even blink. It did, however, distract them long enough for Quanta’s block of carbon to materialize over their heads.
With a sharp “merde!” Cindre leapt aside, while Zirkon slammed both fists up into the descending slab, shattering into several dozen pieces. The shrapnel flew in every direction, taking out several more moloids and bruising Cindre. “Fais attention à ce que tu fais, imbécile!” he shouted to his partner. He barely noticing the stun balls Scion fired at him as they disintegrated in his aura before even reaching him.
Chilz rose up on an ice slide, circling around to the left and caused a thick column of ice to rise up beneath Cindre’s feet. The Frenchman seemed to be surprised as he rose briefly into the air, until his aura began melting the ice beneath him and he sank into the column. Chilz quickly sealed the top of the column, momentarily imprisoning the obnoxious asshat.
Artemis appeared in the shadows between pillars on the elevated portico of the palace, and before the dust from Quanta’s attack had settled she was vaulting over Zirkon, bringing both of her Shadow Sticks down on his wrist, causing several small fractures to appear. He roared in rage, a sound like glass in a hurricane, but he didn’t open his fist… she was unable to snatch the Bloodstone from him before being forced to somersault away to avoid his massive fist.
As she spun back into the shadows, a bolt of golden mystical energy shot from Totem’s hands, aimed at Zirkon’s head. Belying his bulk, the creature moved with surprising speed, and the bolt splashed harmlessly against a pillar… but the Blue Flame’s plasma bolt struck the mercenary square in the chest. Micro-fractures radiated out from the hit, and the German roared again in pain.
Totem cast his go-to spell of the Sleeping Mists, but again the mystic somnolence had no apparent effect on the elemental villains… although it did put another batch of the angry Terra Cavans to sleep. The natives were now attacking both the villains and the heroes, as opportunity presented itself, making no distinction between the interlopers. The Vanguard, of course, did their best not to hurt any of the relatively squishy, but exceedingly numerous, little people.
Cindre managed to melt through Chilz’ ice prison in less than a minute, and he started to rise into the air— only to be knocked back to the portico by a stream of electro-bolts from Scion. Unlike the physical stun bolts, the energy slugs were relatively unaffected by his heat aura, and Cindre was briefly stunned. Which gave Chilz the opportunity to repeat his first attack, once again imprisoning the heat elemental within a giant ice cube.
Quanta continued to drop QM blocks onto Zirkon, keeping him off balance, while the Blue Flame again blasted the crystal giant with a bruising plasma bolt, followed immediately by a mystic bolt from Totem. Reeling back, the giant lifted one massive leg and slammed it down hard on the stone floor, which rippled like a pond when a stone is dropped in. The shockwave radiated out before him, cracking and fracturing the great stone pier which bisected the steps, until it reached the strange, spherical sculpture at the end, overlooking the square. The modernist-looking metal art piece groaned and shifted as pieces of the stone beneath it sank several centimeters.
The shockwave also knocked everyone not in the air off their feet. Which gave Zirkon very little advantage, as Quanta’s next block had already been forming overhead… it dropped down on the already dazed mercenary, driving him to his knees. But still he kept an unbreakable grip on the stolen Bloodstone. Cindre, meanwhile, used the distraction to once again melt himself free of Chilz’ trap.
This time it was Artemis who was there to try to keep Cindre down. She threw both electrified shock sticks at his head, but the Frenchman nimbly dodged, at the same time unleashing a one-two punch of searing heat blasts at her. Chilz dropped down off his ice slide directly into the path of the blasts, taking them full on, and parts of his torso vaporized in a cloud of steam. He staggered back, mentally scrambling to pull all the moisture he could from the air to heal himself.
At the same time Scion unleashed a large Tangle Field net at Zirkon, enveloping the crystal giant in glowing strands of energy that constricted the more he struggled. Cursing in German, the villain was left momentarily hindered and vulnerable, which both Totem and the Blue Flame took advantage of. While Totem’s mystic bolts staggered the bound giant, the Blue Flame flew far out over the plaza and then, with an effort of supreme focus, converted his entire lower body into a plasma rocket.
He struck Zirkon at a tremendous speed, and the shockwave hurled the giant backward, into Cindre, and both of them slammed into the palace wall behind them. The stone wall shattered, but held, and the two lay staggered and dazed in the wreckage. Artemis moved in quickly, seeing her opportunity, but Zirkon proved more resilient than seemed possible.
He staggered to his knees and with a bellow like a thousand windows being shattered, he burst the Tangle Field. The shockwave knocked Artemis off her feet and into a stone pillar, dazing her; it also sent Chilz flying backward and into the metal sculpture on the pier.
Already weakened, the huge sculpture shifted, wavered for an instant, and then toppled slowly down into the plaza below. The shriek of twisted metal and the crunch when it hit the pavement was followed instantly by a bright flash of amber light. A stunned and shaken Chilz staggered to his feet and peered down at the wreckage… he was relieved to see that it seemed to have missed crushing any of the little Terra Cavans who continued to pour into the plaza from every side street.
Before Zirkon could get fully back to his feet, Quanta hit him with a powerful blast of bucky balls, knocking him back onto his ass, and then ricocheted the stream off the crystal giant and into Cindre. Already staggered by the Blue Flames rocket attack, the smaller Frenchman was knocked out “cold.”
Quanta began to move toward the fallen mercenaries, his eyes locked onto the Bloodstone, now only loosely held in Zirkons slackened grip, when he staggered to his knees, wreathed in snapping ribbons of electrical energy, as his vision dimmed. If not for the insulating properties of his carbon shell, he realized that he might well have been killed by… as the electrical flares faded, he turned to see a strange figure striding up the stairs from the plaza, an equally odd-looking staff in one hand, still aimed straight at him.
The Master had arrived… just as the members of the Fatal Four were leaving, unfortunately.
“Danke schön for the assist,” Zirkon called with a grin to Chilz, still standing where the sculpture had been. “Auf Wiedersehen!” There was an awkwardly long pause then, and Chilz had just begun to step forward, when both Zirkon and his unconscious teammate finally vanished in a flash of smoke and brimstone.
“Thieves!” the Master cried, his voice weirdly resonate behind his golden mask. A hooded cloak, ancient and tattered, covered an odd assortment of armor pieces, and the tall staff he now slammed to the stones seemed equally cobbled together from bits of technology from various time periods. “Your accomplices may have escaped for the moment, but rest assured I will track them down and recover what they have taken, if it takes a lifetime! But you… you will soon be playthings, and then food, for my pets!”
The Master of Tyr’Ana
As he spoke, scores more of the small, queer Cava Terrans had poured up the steps, and now he was surrounded by an army of hundreds of the mole people, who seemed ferociously intent on protecting their leader. For a tense moment the matter balanced on a knife-edge – but before he could order his minions to seize the Vanguard (or at least try) Scion let his helmet fade back into his armor and spoke.
“Sir, we are not your enemies! As your own people can attest, we were trying to stop the thieves, who sought to steal the Bloodstone from your rightful guardianship.”
“And we did our best to protect your people from the violence of the intruders,” Artemis added, stepping from the shadows. “Many lives were saved today, and we regret those we could not save. Out mutual enemies are brutal, savage people, who will stick at nothing to gain what they want, as you’ve seen.”
“The Bloodstone, eh?” The Master seemed at least willing to listen, if still suspiciously hostile. “What is it about that damn thing that so fascinates you surface-dwellers? It’s not like I don’t have much larger rubies in my treasury, but you never go for those…”
It took several minutes of fast talking on Scion and Artemis’ part, and consultation in an unintelligible tongue between the Master and several of his people, but eventually the underground ruler was mollified enough to desist in his plans to feed the heroes to his pet kaiju. Once Scion promised to return the Bloodstone to him as soon as they recovered it, the ruler reluctantly, and very ungraciously, agreed that the surface-dwellers could leave his realm unmolested.
While this was going on, Quanta studied the strange man from the sidelines. There was something about the Master that struck an uncertain chord in him… whatever it was, he could feel it was just on the edge of consciousness… something he should know…
“Quanta, can you assist me?” Totem broke into his train of thought, and the nascent epiphany was still-born “I believe that metal sculpture which was destroyed was actually the artifact preventing teleportation into or out of this palace. I was thinking that if you could help me raise back into place, at least, the gesture might help smooth things over with this ‘Master’ fellow.”
“Oh, yes, probably a good idea,” Quanta agreed, and reluctantly turned away from the ongoing debate between his teammates and the man in question. By the time the Vanguard was ready to depart the twisted, fractured metal sculpture, no longer strictly spherical, was back on the cracked stone pier above the plaza.
As Quanta opened a tunnel back to the Interceptor the last thing he heard before stepping through was the Master muttering in annoyance that he would have to send to the sorcerers of Nova Roma to re-cast the spells that had protected his palace… and they would demand something inconvenient in return…
••••••
Now one-for-two, and hoping to secure the final Bloodstone, the Vanguard wasted no time pointing the Interceptor south towards Antarctica and the Valley of the Bleeding Ice. Located deep within the Sentinel Range of the Ellsworth Mountains, they flew over the South Pole to reach it. The sun was just peeking over the horizon to begin the brief, two-hour “day” of the the Antarctic winter when the heroes descended into the remote, hidden valley.
It was a land that seemed somehow removed from the passage of time. Barren, icy scree and somehow liquid pools of black water covered parts of the valley floor, while imposing glacial cliffs climbed the rocky mountain slopes. Thick, red brine stains streaked the glaciers around the valley, millions-of-years-old deposits of saltwater oozing from cracks in the ice and casting an ominous flash of color over the otherwise monochromatic setting. The only evidence of Man, or at least of sentient beings, was a weather-battered stone archway, carved in eerie, alien glyphs, peeking out from one of the glacial walls.
Valley of the Bleeding Ice, Antarctica
Landing as close as was safe to the lone opening, the Vanguard still had a hike of several hundred yards in the bone-chilling Antarctic cold to reach their goal. Of course only Artemis and Quanta were even slightly affected by the temperature, the others being entirely protected by either their inherent powers, technology, or magic. Still, everyone grateful to step out of the bleak, strangely oppressive atmosphere of the valley, and its relentless winds, into what appeared to be a large antechamber carved from living ice.
A strange bluish-green light seemed to seep from the ice walls and floor, as well as from the jagged ceiling some 5 meters overhead. Strange runes and arcane circles of various sizes were carved into the floor, and the only object in the space was a short octagonal pillar near the back wall, its concave top containing a large transparent gemstone of many facets.
“What the hell is this place? Or what was it, I guess is the better question?” Quanta wondered, as Scion scanned the walls for hidden doors and Chilz used his ice sense to do the same.
“Whatever function these buried ruins once served, no really knows, so far as I’ve ever heard,” Artemis said. “Although they’re believed to be at least twenty thousand years old, they were only “discovered” in the 19th century. The Victorian explorers of the day referred to them as the “temple,” and the name stuck.”
“They thought this one room rated as a temple?” the Blue Flame laughed. “A shrine, maybe, but temple seems pretty grand.”
“No,” Scion said. “There’s a whole series of chambers, according to what little literature I could find online after Sabra told us where we were headed. There’s a trick to getting in, apparently, but not one I came across in my search. And I’m not detecting any mechanical or electronic doors, or even mechanisms… as far as I can tell, these walls are solid ice, within a framework of native stone.”
“Yeah, I’m not detecting anything but ice and stone either,” Chilz agreed. “And iron oxides, I think – those red streaks in the ice. I’m not sure how safe it would be for me to try and ice-walk through these walls, I’m afraid they might cut me to ribbons… I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“There is magic at work here,” Totem said in a distracted voice, clearly concentrating on something beyond the others’ perceptions. “It is not a form I am familiar with, specifically, but there are fundamentals that all magic must follow…”
“Maybe we should all stand around in each of these magic circles on the floor,” Quanta offered dryly. “Then we can all chant the magic words and a door will open.”
“Actually, I think it’s much simpler than that,” Totem said, missing or just ignoring the gibe. “I’m sensing blood magic worked into the power lines here, and they all seem focused on that pillar with the gem atop it.”
Scion, who was closest, stepped up to the pillar and tried to lift the gem from its pedestal, but it seemed welded in place. “Blood magic, eh? I suppose I can spare a drop, if you really think it will do the trick.” He glanced back at Totem, who nodded slowly.
“Yes, I am reasonably sure that will have an effect,” the shaman agreed.
“An effect?” Chilz said dubiously. “Maybe we should be careful with this…”
“I agree,” Scion said. “Chilz, can you erect a nice thick ice shield around me and the pillar? That will protect the rest of you if something… explosive… happens, and my armor should protect me.”
“No problem, boss!” Chilz gestured toward his teammate and a foot thick wall of ice grew rapidly up from the frozen floor, arcing from wall-to-wall and screening Scion and the gemstone plinth from the rest of the chamber. Once it was in place, Scion retracted his left glove and pricked his thumb with a needle extruded from the index finger of his right glove. Squeezing, he let a large drop of blood fall directly onto the embedded stone.
Through the wavy, translucent wall of ice the rest of the Vanguard saw his shape step back as the transparent gem suddenly became infused with a blood-red light. The light spread quickly down the lines etched into the pillar, and from there raced out along the floor, following the shapes of the glyphs, symbols and circles carved there. In seconds every carved channel in the room glowed with the ruby light, and several cracks appeared in the wall on the right side of the chamber.
The cracks outlined the shape of a large door, and slowly the two leaves of the portal receded into the walls to either side, revealing six broad steps down into a wide, tall hallway. The ruby light flowed down narrow carved cutters to either side of the stairs and down the hallway, racing ahead to drop down a longer light of stairs six meters ahead.
Chilz sublimated his ice wall around Scion and he and the armored hero lead the team down the stairs and along the eerie hallway, whose proportions seemed subtly inhuman in both scale and design. The stairs, also slightly off to human sensibilities, too wide and shallow, dropped them down at least seven meters, where the corridor continued before ending in a blank wall ten meters on, where the twin lines of ruby light had outlined the shape of another door.
Nothing happened as they approached the door, however, until Chilz reached out to lay a hand on the icy barrier. At his touch the red light flared and the outline became an actual door, which slid aside into the walls, revealing a circular, domed chamber ten meters in diameter. In the center of the room another circle of lines and glyphs was carved, and the ruby light began to flow from the door into the grooves… where it stopped, as if waiting.
“I think we’re expected to take some action at this point, to continue,” Totem said. “I’m just not sure what that action should be.”
Everyone studied the strange marking and the unsettling red-streaked ice walls around them, looking for a clue, but it was Chilz who figured it out.
“I can see into the ice itself, and there seems to be a pit beneath this room… I think if we screw up here, the room will try and drop us into it. But I can also see the pattern of touches to the various glyphs in that circle. Given our position here at the door, I think I can figure out the logical sequence.”
As he touched several of the carved symbols in quick succession, each flared, and when the last one had died down a doorway on the left side of the room opened. Another corridor, identical to the one they’d just left, led onward and downward.
The pattern was the same as the corridors and rooms spiraled around and down, apparently spiraling to some central space deep beneath the Antarctic ice and stone. The puzzles in the next three chambers proved relatively easy to solve, with Totem and Scion jointly figuring out the second one, Quanta providing the needed insight for the third, and Scion solving the fourth.
Ice Temple / Spiral Maze
But in the fifth chamber, they ran into trouble. There were no obvious signs to lead them to a solution, and there was apparently a time limit… 137 seconds after setting foot in the room the eerie blue-green light, which had so far illuminated every chamber and hallway, vanished, leaving only the faint red light of the blood sigils to hold back total darkness. The door behind them snapped back into place and vanished, becoming a solid ice wall again.
Then a black light began to grow, radiating out from the center of the room to quickly engulf the entire group…
It was a beautiful late spring day in Astoria as Jonny stepped up to bat for the first time this softball season. As he swung the bat, warming up, the announcer’s voice rang about across the stands. Suddenly Jonny’s blood ran cold as he recognized the voice of his nasty stepsister, Tiffany. How the hell had she gotten into the announcer’s booth? And what did she–
“Now up to bat, young Jonny Osaka, the pathetic bastard offspring of a teenage busboy at that greasy Japanese restaurant, Little Osaka,” Tiffany’s shrill voice practically radiated malice and glee as the crowd tittered uncertainly.
Looking over at the stands, Jonny saw his father, a pimply faced Japanese kid with lank, black hair, a whisp of a mustache on his upper lip, and a wide grin full of oversized teeth. He was dressed in his busboy uniform of black slacks and white shirt, and he waved enthusiastically at Jonny.
“Can you believe this loser, once thought to be a promising up-and-comer, tried to claim that the Steel Shogun was his father? What a joke, no wonder the man had Jonny’s mother killed!” And there in the strands, several rows back from Jonny’s father, sat the frowning Steel Shogun, surrounded my grim looking men in black suits and sunglasses.
Jonny felt the flush rising in his face as the crowd’s titters turned to guffaws of outright laughter. The coach was motioning him over, away from the plate. “We can’t have the sleazy bastard of a cheating whore on our team kid,” the older man yelled. “Get outta here, you loser wannabe!”
Dropping his bat, Jonny began to back away, and the laughter of the crowd turned to jeers and began to get hostile… no, this was wrong… Tiffany had embarrassed him in high school, yes, but that was years ago… he was… he was something else now, not in high school… and his mother no…
He couldn’t even bring himself to think the word, and the rage as he thought about the accusation tripped something deep inside him. With a sudden roar of power, Jonny burst into blue fire, rising into the air triumphantly. He may not know for sure who his father was, but he knew who he was – the Blue Flame, a founding member of the Vanguard, and a superhero!
Suddenly the nightmare popped like a soap bubble, and Jonny was back in the Ice Temple…
John looked up from the lab table, where the pieces of his latest invention were laid out, as his grandfather stepped into the laboratory/prison. Compared to JJ’s own emaciated figure, his Atlantean grandfather was a robust and muscular presence, and his overpowering presence dominated the room.
“So, grandson, what new marvel do you have for Us today?” The old man sneered at his manacled slave-technician, and tapped the bronze chest plate he wore. “Nothing to match this marvels armor I took from you, after your foolish rebellion, I’m sure.”
His grandfather had used John’s advanced nanite-and-magic infused armor to make himself Emperor of Atlantis, after killing his human grandfather, and had then enslaved him, using the threat of his mother’s life to keep JJ in line and producing.
Over the years since, John had been forced to create new technologies for the evil old man, technologies he had used to expand his empire to the surface world, killing and enslaving millions… the weight of his despair was crushing…
But wait, how could the old man be alive? Hadn’t he killed him… more than 60 years ago? And his mother… she had died already, at the old man’s own hands… no, this was wrong! It wasn’t real!He was no slave! He was Captain John Jacob Astor VIII — he was SCION, of the Vanguard!
The nightmare wavered and vanished, and Scion was once agin standing in the ruined Antarctic Ice Temple…
Chuck was alone in the blinding snowstorm, struggling to move forward… he had to find shelter, he was freezing to death… why had he ever come on this mountain-climbing trip? Oh, yeah, had had wanted to make name for himself, to leave some mark on the world, proof that Chuck Chisolm had been there.
But now he was going to die, alone and unremembered… the cold was quickly sapping his energy, and he felt a warm lethargy begin to creep over him… even his mother wouldn’t bother to remember her loser son, who’d froze himself to death on a stupid mountainside…
Froze himself… why did that strike a chord deep within him? How could he be freezing to death? He was… he was someone, he knew that… ice and snow shouldn’t bother him, right? Not even an Arctic chill should —
CHILZ! He was Chilz, superhero extrodinaire and member of the freakin’ Vanguard! And this was all bullshit… he reached deep inside himself, and touched the frozen gem hidden at his core –
The deathly cold faded away, the snowstorm with it, and Chilz was back in the Ice Temple in the Antarctic…
Kúng stood once again on the shores of his beloved island of Sgang Gwaay Llanagaay… but a terrible sense of foreboding hung over him like a shroud. He knew, with dream-like certainty, what he would find as he pushed through the trees to his village…
Yes, there they were, all of his people, the Elders, the men, women, even the children — all corpses, scattered abut the burning ruins of their homes. The bodies were emaciated, almost mummified, as if the very life essence had been sucked out of them…
And Kúng knew it was all his fault! He had left them behind, had gone out into the Outer World, where he had abandoned his quest… while he played at being a hero, his people had perished, waiting for him to return… even the poor children had been —
Wait, something wasn’t right… there were no children on Sgang Gwaay Llanagaay… he had been the last child born on the island, in fact… that was one of the reasons they had sent him into the Outer World… and this nightmare seemed familiar, somehow… as if he had lived it before…
With that realization the dead village wavered and vanished, leaving Totem once again standing in the ancient Ice Temple, surrounded by his friends…
Kyle sat in the overstuffed wingback chair, staring out the window at the bleak winter cityscape, nursing his third beer, and brooding over the failure that was his life…
From the family fortune lost in pursuit of realizing his grandmother’s human-enhancing formula, to his failure to even come close to achieving that goal, to being forced to drop out of graduate school so close to reaching his doctorate, to the the shame of having his Olympic fencing medals stripped from him when the secret of his illegal enhancements came to light… and now Epiphany was walking out of his life forever.
She stood at the door to his one bedroom walk-up flat, her hand on the knob. “I’m sorry it’s come to this Kyle, but you have no one to blame but yourself — if only you were the man you could’ve been, the man I needed, we might have stood a chance…”
And then she was gone, out of his life forever… his desolate, loser life… she was — wait, wasn’t she in prison? And hadn’t he helped put her there, as much as it had hurt? The beer dropped from his hand and gurgled out onto the cheap carpet… and… and how could he have been stripped of his Olympic wins for illegal enhancements if he’d never succeeded in perfection his grandmother’s formula?
None of this made any sense! He stumbled to his feet, clutching his head… No, he wasn’t a loser… he was… he was… the epiphany came like a blinding light — he was QUANTA, a founding member of the Vanguard and master of the quantum realm underlying all of reality!
The cheap apartment around him shattered like a struck mirror, the shards falling away to leave Quanta stand-in in the hidden Ice Temple once more… although the sense of failure and despair still clung to him, like maple syrup on his fingers after pancakes…
It was night and Artemis stood in the large semi-circular carriage way in front of Tulip Hill Hall, wearing only her night shift. She was drenched in blood so dark it was almost black, the whites of her wide-open eyes the only color in her staring face.
Before her loomed the plantation’s great oak tree, it’s crown engulfed in flames that burned but seemed not to consume, casting shifting shadows, twisting and writhing, all around her… shadows cast by the branches… and by the bodies hanging from nooses from every one…Old Toby… Young Toby… Miss Cassie… her mother Elizabeth… Carlton Ewes, the first man she’d killed, slitting his throat from behind as he laughed at her dead… all the other men from that terrible night… and all the other men, and women, she’d killed over the years… so many bodies, more than the tree could possibly hold, and yet they hung there, spiraling outward into infinity… and she felt they weight of each soul, crushing her own… and the ultimate futility of it all…for, whatever she did, however many she slew, the evil night went on and on, darkness forever…
And then she saw the bodies of her friends hanging lifeless in the distant reaches of that infinite tree of death… John, Kyle, Jonny, Gideon, Chuck, Cooper, and so many others… all dead because of her… she screamed…
As the other’s stood around anxiously, Totem and Quanta tried to snap Artemis out of her deep fugue state. The other members of the Vanguard had come out of their own nightmare visions on their own, if some with difficulty. But Artemis seemed trapped in whatever nightmare scenario was playing out in her head.
“My quantum healing isn’t doing shit,” Quanta growled, pulling his hand back from where he’d laid it on Artemis’ forehead. “Not surprising, I guess — it’s physical problems I can heal, sometimes, not psychic trauma. Totem…?”
“My own psychic touch doesn’t seem to be reaching her,” the shaman said frowning. “ But I can see the mystic threads from that dark light still flowing from the room’s sigils and insinuating themselves into her brain… perhaps if I sever them at the root…”
A golden light flared from his hands, cutting the dark strands, and Artemis jerked spasmodically, body gone suddenly rigid, and her eyes flew open as she gasped out “No! So many…” Then she slumped back in Quanta’s arms, dazed, but once more aware of her surroundings. After a few minutes
As soon as her teammates helped her back to her feet a minute later Artemis pulled away, clearly still shaken by whatever the room had pulled from her deep psyche. Her faint smile was more of a grimace as she assured them she was alright. “I just need a moment to get myself together… let’s just keep moving, we don’t have time to waste. I’ll be fine.”
Reluctantly the others agreed, and they moved through the now open exit from the nightmare chamber into the by now familiar corridor beyond. Totem solved the next room’s puzzle with his skill in magic, and that seemed to satisfy whatever powers governed the spiral maze; subsequent rooms present no further puzzles or traps, and all doors opened as the lines of red light touched them.
After a dozen chambers, the downward spiral of the so-called “temple” ended in a short corridor at the far end of which stood a massive door of stone, not ice. It was easily four meters wide and five meters tall. No markings were visible on the dark granite, no seams or cracks – until Chilz laid a hand on the smooth stone. Then a horizontal crack appeared in the door, halfway between floor and ceiling. It widened quickly as the two halves moved apart with a grinding rumble of stone-on-stone, the bottom half sinking into the floor , the top half retracting into the ceiling.
“Well it’s about time —“ Fumée began, whirling around to face the door. The expression on her translucent face when she realized it wasn’t her teammates striding into the room was priceless, Chilz thought. She stood in the center of a large circular chamber, more than 15 meters across, with a domed roof of blue ice glowing 20 meters overhead. A meter tall crystal pillar stood in the center of the room, and the last Bloodstone floated in the air near the villain’s insubstantial hand of smoke and vapor.
Fumeé (Smoke)
“Merde!” Without waiting to hear what her enemies might have to say, Fumée instantly began to raise a thick white smoke in the room, which quickly obscured both herself and the gemstone. Her muttered cursing in French seemed to come from everywhere at once, both muted and scattered by the swirling fumes.
Quanta immediately realized that she would be trying to escape with her prize before all else, and he threw up a solid wall of quantum matter to seal off the doorway. The French imprecations redoubled in fury and volume. “Let me out, you ignorant American swine! This is none of your affair, why must you interfere with my only chance to get back my body? My LIFE!”
“Gisele, I know you hate what you’ve become, and grieve for all that you’ve lost,” Artemis called out through the thickening mists. She had somewhat recovered from her earlier ordeal, but the thought of another body on her ledger dismayed her. She was determined to save this woman.
“But this alliance with the Succubus is not the way to get your life back… she’s insane, and it can only lead to disaster, not just for the world but for you and your friends. Please, stand down and I promise, we will find a way to restore your human form.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” Fumeé’s sneering voice echoed around the shrouded chamber. “I shall not fall for your pathetic lies.”
Quanta whipped around suddenly, for her last sentence had come from directly behind him. Although not as affected as Artemis, he was still feeling the effects of his own nightmare, and it slowed him. Before he could react, her human-like form had collapsed into a denser ball of smoke, which engulfed his head. He staggered back against his quantum barrier, choking and gasping… while his quantum shell was good at protecting him from most physical damage, he still needed to breath, and the villain’s vapors were filling his lungs.
In concentrating her suffocating attack on the hero who had blocked her escape, Fumeé let her attention wander a bit from her enshrouding mists, and they began to thin. Chilz was the first to notice his teammate clawing at the dense white cloud of smoke enveloping his head, just as Quanta collapsed to his knees. Realizing what was happening, Chilz summoned a Polar Vortex, focusing the concentrated, freezing air on Quanta and the their insubstantial enemy — unprepared, Fumeé was blasted away from her victim, her form temporarily dissipating into the surrounding vapor.
“Mademoiselle Auclair, please… stop and listen to me,” Artemis tried again to get through to the half-mad woman, while Scion scanned the room with his sensors, trying to find some way to pinpoint her actual location. “We have some of the greatest scientific and magical minds in the world in this room, and we have connections with many others around the world. We can help you!
“You’re not the only one to undergo an uncanny transformation, Gisele. Look at Chilz… or better, consider the Blue Flame. When he first gained his powers he was stuck in his plasma form, as insubstantial as you are. For a time he feared he would never be human again. But with our help he found a way to trigger the change, to become human again.”
To emphasize her point, Jonny dropped down and allowed his body to revert to its human form. A safe enough tactic, he thought, given that he could just re-ignite if she tried that suffocation shit with him – his plasma form didn’t need to breath. Nor did Chilz, who also reverted to his human body, figuring it couldn’t hurt Artemis’ argument, and it might help.
Quanta, however, remained vulnerable and, as the one who continued to obstacle her passage, remained Fumeé’s target. As the Blue Flame added his own arguments to Artemis’, the villain again coalesced her substance around Quanta’s head, and by the time Chilz’ had resumed his ice form his attacks were unable to dislodge her.
Quanta collapsed to the ground, unconscious, after a moment of struggle. Fumeé resumed her human-like form between his unconscious body and the blocked doorway. But the silvery mass refused to dissolve, despite the incapacitation of its creator, and in a fury she tried to pound on it, her fists wisping away against its impenetrable surface like the vapor they were. The Bloodstone orbited her head with increasing speed as her agitation increased.
“Ha! Got her,” Scion muttered triumphantly. Even without a corporeal form she still somehow had brainwaves, which his sensors at last locked onto, if only sporadically. While she stood distracted in her fury at Quanta’s barrier, the armored hero blasted her with his Brain Tickler effect. She reeled away, clearly stunned, her smoke form wavering and fraying at the edges. The Bloodstone dropped to the granite floor with several sharp ‘tinks’ as it bounced away.
Totem knelt down next to Quanta and began mouth-to-mouth, while Jonny dove for the skittering red gemstone. But just as his still-human hand came down on it, the stone shot out of his grasp, flying back into the smoky clutches of Fumeé. By her appearance and jerky motions she was still somewhat stunned from Scion’s attack, and she quickly faded back into the mists, which once again thickened around the room.
“Gisele, please stop this pointless fight and let us help you,” Artemis said, with increasing urgency. “At least let us try—“
“Gisele is gone, foolish woman, only Fumeé remains. And if the Magus Prime himself could not lift this curse, why should I believe you can?” Fumeé’s voice still held a certain Gallic contempt, but to Artemis’ ear she suddenly seemed less certain. “No. No, only the Succubus has the power… or she will, when she has all of the Bloodstones and completes her ritual.”
“But the Arkanoswas able to lift your curse, wasn’t he?” Artemis countered quickly. “Only, it would have meant losing your meta-abilities, and your teammates refused to give up their power, didn’t they? The men, who still had physical forms, however twisted, made the decision for you, didn’t they? Men who didn’t know or really care about the hell you suffer in every moment, with no corporeal body… they decided for you, didn’t they?
“But they’re not here now, Gisele. This time the decision is yours alone to make. And in any case, the Succubuswon’t have all of the Bloodstones for her ritual – we stopped Antoine in Kurunda, and that stone is safely hidden away now. Even if you manage to escape us, with this stone, are you sure the Succubus will still have the power to give you back your body? Are you certain she even intends to try, once she has what she wants?”
There was silence from the swirling fog for several long minutes. Then the vapors began to dissipate, and the translucent form of Fumeé stepped forward. The Bloodstone floated in her insubstantial hand.
“It seems I have no choice,” she sighed. “Since I cannot escape this chamber, even with the one who blocks my way unconscious, and I have no hope of defeating all of you, I suppose I must now take my chances, and trust that you can truly do as you say. I have certainly had my doubts about that harlot Succubus, so… let us see if you keep your word, hero.”
The Bloodstone floated forward towards Artemis, who reached out her hand. The gem dropped into her open palm as the last of the mists vanished and Fumeé dropped her head in resignation. Artemis slipped the stone into a pouch at her belt and nodded solemnly at the Frenchwoman.
Once Totem had a woozy Quanta back on his feet, his teammate waved a hand and his barrier dissolved back into the quantum foam underlying reality. With no practical way to restrain their former opponent, the Vanguard had to simply trust Fumeé not to try anything funny as they made their way back up the spiral of corridors and rooms to the surface.
As they neared the antechamber and the final exit, however, Fumeé slowed and then stopped, looking suddenly uncertain. The group stopped and Artemis looked at her inquiringly.
“It is the Succubus,” Fumeé explained. “She claimed that her scrying magics could not penetrate the mystic aura of this place, which I suppose is why she did not know I had become trapped, after taking the Bloodstone. But once I step outside, I greatly fear she will know I have betrayed her. And her reach is long…”
“Actually, I’ve been giving that some thought,” Totem said. “After our previous experiences with your team, I’ve been working on a spell that should shield you from both her scrying and her teleportation spells. I plan to cast it in the antechamber, just before we step outside this structure’s protection.”
Fumeé looked dubious, but Artemis was clearly pleased. “I think it would be wise to get both Ms. Auclair and the Bloodstone to somewhere there’s minimal chance of the Succubus finding them, at least any time soon. If your spell can shield us from her spying, even for a few minutes, once we step outside I’l shadow-walk them both back to the Pyramid. Once both are secure I’ll rejoin you all.”
It took only a few minutes for Totem to cast his ritual scrying shield, but there was a tense moment when the group stepped out of the Ice Temple and into the Antarctic dusk. Gisele, in particular, seemed wound tighter than a spring, waiting for the Succubus to teleport her away in a flash of fire and brimstone. But nothing happened, and after a minute or two she visibly relaxed. She offered no objection when Artemis wrapped her cloak around them both and stepped back into the shadows of the cliff… where they vanished.
By the time the team had trekked through the bitter cold and growing dark back to the Interceptor Artemis was waiting for them inside. “The Bloodstone is secure in the shielded vault, although well separated from the other one. I’m not taking any chances, having two of the damn things in such close proximity. Fumeé is in an equally secure cell on the detention level… she was not happy about that, but she wasn’t surprised, either. I think we won’t have a serious problem with her unless we fail to keep our promise to cure her.”
“Well, that’s a problem for tomorrow,” Scion said, settling into the pilots seat and flipping switches in preparation for take-off. “The question now is, where do we go next? The Succubus has three of the five Bloodstones… is that enough for whatever she pains? And if so, where is she? How do we find her? Totem, do you —“
Totem held up a hand to forestall his teammate’s question as a deep thrumming sound started coming from the small hand mirror that hung from his belt – Sabra’s scrying mirror, and their connection to her in the Dark World. Pulling it out and gazing into it, he saw his reflection waver, to be quickly replaced by his friend’s face.
“Cooper, finally!” She cried, the hint of annoyance in her voice carrying throughout the cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours now. I’ve got vital news.”
“Sorry Atara, we’ve been inside that Antarctic Ice Temple of yours, and apparently scrying doesn’t work in there. Fortunately, I suppose, or we’d have lost another of the Bloodstones to the Succubus before we’d even arrived. But at least we’ve kept two of the five out of her hands.”
“Ah, of course, I should have realized,” Sabra grimaced, her annoyance turned on herself. “Good job, saving that last Bloodstone! I apologize for being so short with you just now, but I’ve learned some new information about what the Succubus is up to, and time is of the essence, I fear.
“In researching ritual sites associated with the Voracious, I found references to a place called the Maw of the Voracious. It’s a hidden volcano in the Middle East, once used by an ancient Cult of the Devourer as an arcane furnace — one that can actually destroy magic artifacts. I think the Succubus is planning to use this Maw to destroy the Bloodstones!”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Jonny asked, peering over Totem’s shoulder into the mirror. “If they’re destroyed, at least no one else could use them again, right?”
“Sure, it might sound good at first,” Sabra replied. “But all that magical energy needs to go somewhere. Even just released into the Earth’s arcanosphere, that much raw power would cause chaos around the globe. Which would be bad, yes, but manageable; I doubt even a demonic entity like the Succubus would go to all this effort just for some minor magical mayhem, however much they love chaos.
“No, she has something else in mind. There’s a very particular celestial convergence coming up in just a few hours…and I’m betting she is planning on using that cosmic event to channel all the power that will flow out of the stones when they’re destroyed straight into herself. And that kind of power boost might be enough to allow her to actually seize the mantle of Magus Prime for herself, giving her dominion over all of Earth’s magic.”
“But as Scion was just pointing out, she only has three of the Bloodstones,” Totem observed. “Can she still perform this ritual without all five?”
“That’s the one thing that gives me some hope, actually,” Sabra agreed. “The ritual is pentagrammal in nature, and very specifically requires five major arcane power sources to be sacrificed, to channel the power into the invoker. What worries me is, what other magical artifacts, of sufficient power, might she already have… and be willing to sacrifice?”
“Don’t each of the Fatal Four contain the mystic gem that transformed them contained within their bodies, such as they are?” Artemis asked. “And would they not qualify as suitable arcane artifacts to meet the ritual’s requirements, assuming she could extract them?”
Sabra’s image in the mirror looked momentarily blank, and then she began to curse, quite colorfully. Totem was slightly taken aback, as he’d never heard her utter more than the occasional “damn” before, in all the time he’d known her.
“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” she said, regaining her composure. “And I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner. The elemental gems are not physically present within the Fatal Four, not exactly – their material form transmuted into pure arcane energy when they tranformed the five mercenaries, and it infuses their current forms still. In fact, that was the method that Roland devised to free them from the gems’ curse – force the stones to return to their physical forms, which would have returned the mercenaries to their human forms as well.
“The Succubus doesn’t actually need to extract the stones from their hosts — all that arcane power remains contained within the bodies of the the Fatal Four… if she simply tosses one or more of them into the Maw, it would be the same as throwing in a physical gem. While they may not be quite as powerful as the Bloodstones, those cursed elemental gems are quite powerful enough, I fear.
“There is no time to waste! The celestial convergence I spoke of, which is required for the ritual to succeed, is now less than an hour away. You have to stop that ritual from being completed!”
“You said this “Maw” is in the Middle East somewhere?” Scion called from the cockpit, where he’d finished the start-up routine. “There’s no way in hell we can get there from Antarctica in time, not even if we go sub-orbital.”
“Which is why I plan to open a portal for you, despite the terrible toll such a spell will likely take on me, casting it as I must from my Dark World,” Sabra replied grimly. “The site of the Maw is mystically shielded, in any case – without my help it is unlikely that you would find it at all, never mind in time. Get your plane in the air, Scion, and I will open a mystical gateway that will take you directly where you need to be…”
••••••
The heat hit the Vanguard like a blast furnace as they stepped out of the Interceptor onto the burning sands of the deep Arabian Dessert, somewhere in Saudi Arabia. Only the Blue Flame was entirely unaffected by the temperature, while Chilz did his best to keep a bubble of relatively cool air around his teammates as they made their way up the steep slope of basalt rising abruptly from the sand a hundred meters away.
Maw of the Voracious, Saudi Arabian Dessert
Despite Chilz’ efforts, most of the heroes were sweating heavily by the time they stepped out on a broad shelf of black basalt overlooking a vast pit of roiling molten rock at least 60 meters across. The air above the natural cauldron shimmered with heat, and rising tendrils of volcanic gases hazed the air further. Narrow branches of solidified rock stretched out from the surrounding basalt cliff faces to criss-cross the seething magma pool, many of them meeting and holding in place a large, multi-tiered platform of black stone positioned over the center of the pit.
The three remaining members of the Fatal Four were spaced variously along the paths of twisted stone, facing a fourth figure who stood defiantly atop the massive central platform. This was a tall, gorgeous woman with long, flaming red hair, dressed in a black corset and thigh-high boots, with demonic red-black wings that somehow, Quanta thought, managed to look incredible sexy… and the small horns which sprouted from her forehead only added to the effect. The Succubus, without a doubt… and she held a Bloodstone in one of her perfectly manicured hands.
The Succubus
Seeing the heroes on the cliff above, she smiled and waved. “Welcome to the Maw of the Voracious, my would-be adversaries” she called. “You’re just in time for dinner.” She laughed out loud then, a very wicked sound, and hurled the Bloodstone away from her. It arced out in a brilliant red streak, down into the molten stone — there was a flare of crimson light as it vanished. A sudden coruscation of energy shot back up along the same arc, slamming into and enveloping the Succubus. Her back arched as if in ecstasy (or pain… or maybe both… it was hard to be sure) as the energy flowed into her. The crimson aura slowly faded away as she absorbed the power…
“Yes! I can feel the raw power coursing through me,” she laughed, the most lustful sound any of the heroes had ever heard. “And this is just a taste of the banquet to come!”
She gestured at the stone around her, and from it six twisted shapes began to rise. In seconds they had become terrifying gargoyles of shiny black basalt, a blood-red light glowing in the deep sockets of their eyes. The size of small ponies, their stone wings unfurled with the sound of cracking stone as the creatures took up protective positions around their mistress.
With all eyes locked on the Succubus, Cindre took the opportunity to rise slowly into the air, putting himself in a position to unleash a blast of lethal heat at the gathered heroes. But the Blue Flame was airborne himself in an instant. He reached out and absorbed the blast, causing his own blue-white light to flare all the brighter.
Totem took advantage of Cindre’s attack to attempt to bind the Succubus with his spell of the Azure Bonds. But as the shimmering blue bands tightened around her the demoness shrugged, almost casually, and they shattered into a thousand sparking shards and quickly vanished. With a smirk she reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a second Bloodstone, holding it up for all to see.
Maw of the Voracious Battlemap
The Blue Flame immediately darted downward, dropping below the central platform to position himself to catch the stone before it could hit the lava. Unfortunately, the move was obvious to the Succubus, and at an angry gesture two of her gargoyles leapt into the air. In seconds they were on the hero, and even in his plasma form he felt their claws… damn, he hated magic!
As the stone beasts were mauling the Blue Flame, Chilz focused his elemental energy, already straining in the overpowering heat of dessert and volcano, into a ram of ice aimed straight at the incredibly sensual woman below him. And he couldn’t help but think about the obvious symbolism of his steel-hard ice ram penetrating her hot, sexy — the thought was cut short as the ice ram turned to steam several meters before it could make contact. Chilz shook his head and struggled to get his mind back in the game… and out of the gutter.
The Blue Flame, meanwhile, had had enough of the gargoyles. They seemed immune to his natural heat aura, although plasma blasts did seem able to chip away at them. Unfortunately, trying to keep one eye on the Succubus and the Bloodstone she held, and staying in a position to catch it if she threw it, severely hampered his ability to defend himself. Then he recalled an episode of that old Star Trek show he’d recently watched with Chuck, and he had an idea…
Momentarily rising up over the gargoyles, he pointed both hands directly downward and unleashed a tremendous double blast of plasma straight into the magma 25 meters below. As he’d hoped, it had the same effect as the phaser blasts in Star Trek had — the molten rock erupted into a violent, explosive geyser of superheated magma and gas. Both gargoyles were engulfed in the glowing column of lava, disintegrating almost instantly.
Quanta realized what his teammate was trying to do as soon as the kid had moved below the Succubus’ position, and thought it was smart… but he also felt they needed a backup. He focused his concentration, ignoring the distraction of their enemy’s smoking’ hot body, and mentally called into being the most complex quantum matter construct he’d yet attempted. A silvery net of carbon and asbestos shimmered into being ten meters over the surface of the magma pool – strands 2.5 cm thick, spaced 2.5 cm apart, stretched across most of the open space beneath the central platform where the Succubus stood.
And not a moment too soon… as the Blue Flame darted up to get above his attackers, and the molten geyser he created, she saw her opportunity and prepared to throw the second stone into the pit. But at the last second she caught sight of the net blow and realized its purpose. She would not let her enemies take another of her Bloodtones and steal her rightful power. In a fury, turned to glare at the heroes, seeking the one responsible for this insult…
Before she could take any action, however, the armored form of Scion swooped down toward her, a stream of glowing electro-bolts preceding him. With an angry gesture she disintegrated the projectiles before they could touch her, and the hero pulled up and away. But the distraction almost cost her the Bloodstone, as Artemis appeared from the shadows of the lower part of the platform.
The black-cloaked hero vaulted up and over the Succubus, reaching to snatch the gemstone from her hand — and if not for the increased speed and strength the destruction of the first Bloodstone had already imbued the demoness, her ploy might well have succeeded. As it was, the Succubus managed to whirl, duck and lash out with her other hand just in time, and the blow sent Artemis flying. Twisting in midair, she came down in the classic three-point hero landing, cape billowing behind her, before rolling into shadow and vanishing.
Briefly free of heroic distractions, the Succubus realized (as much through the process of elimination as by deduction) that it must be Quanta creating that cursed net. With a snarl of rage, she slipped the Bloodstone back into her belt pouch and unleashed a Soul Blast on the hero. The demonic energy drove him to one knee, momentarily dazed. Another gesture sent two of her remaining gargoyles to savage and tear apart the silvery net below her.
“Chilz!” Quanta gasped out over coms, struggling to keep up with repairing the damage to his net even as the gargoyles inflicted it. Another gargoyle was rising into existence not 10 meters away from him, and that would be one distraction too many, if he planned to maintain the net. “Can you create a transparent ice dome?”
“Transparent? Yes, although it takes a lot more effort and concentration to create. Why—“
“I have to keep my focus on the net I created, to keep her from tossing in another of those damn stones. I need protection!”
“Ah, got it! OK, give me a second…” Chilz focused inwardly, and began the formation of a three meter dome of ice over his friend, struggling to keep it as clear and free from impurities as possible. If I was capable of it, he thought, I’d sure be sweating right now…
“I hope that’s enough,” he called out as the last of the ice flowed together at the dome’s apex, leaving just a small hole for air exchange.
“Hope is the bedrock of heroes, my friend,” Quanta replied distractedly. “It is the stage upon which our heroic feats are performed…”
Chilz wondered briefly if his friend had suffered a brain injury with that mystical blast — it had looked nasty, all seething red and black energy — but an attacking gargoyle diverted his thoughts, and he impaled the creature on a large ice spike, straight through the torso.
Totem had engaged with Cindre after the villain’s first attempt to blast the team, casting his spell of the Sleeping Mists over the hovering Frenchman. But the man’s terrible aura of intense heat seemed to vaporize the magical droplets before they could touch him. Cindre seemed to realize he’d been under attack though, and from which quarter, as he unleashed another heat blast directly at Totem.
The shaman managed to defect most of the lethal heat away from himself with a hastily erected mystic shield, but was momentarily dazed and disoriented by the attack. He quickly tried to bind Cindre with another casting of the Azure Bonds, but his focus was fractured and confused, and the villain was easily able to burn them away before they could properly solidify.
Scion, meanwhile, had flown on from his initial bombardment of the Succubus to launch a massive attack on Zirkon, strafing the narrow basalt arch on which the massive mercenary stood. The initial pass cracked and damaged the stone bridge, but failed to shatter it completely.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Totem called over the comms, dodging another blast from Cindre. “If we’re correct about the elemental stones within these mercenaries, than letting one of them fall into the magma would be just as bad as letting the Succubus toss in another Bloodstone.”
“Good point, Totem,” Scion acknowledged. “I’ll change tactics—“
He was cut off as he was suddenly engulfed in a thick stream of steaming mud, which battered at his armor and send him tumbling. It only took a moment for him to regain control, however, and as he turned to look for his attacker he saw that Totem had been hit by the area attack as well, and was down, clearly stunned. Boue was on another of the narrow basalt bridges, and so in no position to make an immediate direct follow-up attack on his teammate, but Scion wasn’t going to take any chances until Totem was back on his feet.
As he banked to focus his attention on Mudslide, however, he was buffeted by another attack. Zirkon, seeing him knocked back by his leader’s mud attack had slammed his massive hands together to create a tremendous shockwave blast aimed at the armored hero. The hit managed to send Scion tumbling again, ringing his bell considerably harder than Mudslide had. It also had the effect of returning the hero’s attention to Zirkon…
The Succubus, meanwhile, had realized that Quanta was continuing to stymie her attempts to destroy the next Bloodstone, despite her attack. He was apparently tougher than he looked. After quickly summoning up another batch of basalt gargoyles, which began to form in spots all around the pit, she turned her fury fully on the silvery hero. Calling upon her newfound energies, she lashed out with her ability to Cloud the Mind, seeking to weaken his will and fill him with an uncontrollable lust.
“Just try and focus on your damn net now, hero!” she crowed as he saw him stiffen and his eyes go wide.
Unfortunately for the Succubus, her spell succeeded beyond her wildest expectations. Overpowered by the chaotic new power gained in the consumption of the first Bloodstone, the spell not only filled Quanta with an all consuming lust, but with an obsessive and irresistible drive to act on that emotion. Perhaps with a normal human, this would not have mattered… what, after all, could a mere mortal do to impose his sudden, overwhelming desires on a demoness?
But Quanta was not a mere mortal. He was an extremely powerful meta-human who commanded the very building blocks of reality itself, and the spell had not so much sapped his will as focused it, with laser-like intensity, on a single goal: to possess the object of his desire, body and soul. Unusually well equipped to obtain that goal, Quanta leapt into action.
Shattering Chilz’ ice dome, he flew at tremendous speed straight for the warm, heaving bosom of the woman he desired above all others. A speed great enough, fortunately, that none of his teammates were able see the answer to what would happen with his quantum shell if he got an erection as Quanta. Too fast as well for the Succubus to do more than widen her eyes in surprise as he slammed into her, his arms wrapping around her and crushing her body to his, his hands twisted in her hair, pulling her face toward him as his lips sought hers, his hips grinding himself into her…
Before anyone, including the demoness, could react, Quanta had erected a shimmering Quantum Matter Love Cocoon® around the two of them, cutting them off from the rest of the world. It had all happened so fast, few of his teammates were quite sure what was going on, except perhaps for Artemis and Totem.
Boue had been attempting to engulf Artemis in his mud form on the far side of the pit, but on seeing Quanta latch on to the Succubus the hero had dropped him from her attention instantly. She nimbly rolled away from his attack, jabbing two shadow sticks into his neck in passing and stunning him with 50,000 volts. She then vanished into a nearby shadow, to reappear in another shadow on the lower section of the central platform. A graceful leap brought her to the top of the stone island and face-to-face with the silvery cocoon of quantum matter… at which point she was at a loss as to what to do next…
Meanwhile, the Blue Flame and Chilz were continuing to batter the remaining gargoyles out of existence… the Blue Flame blasting them into slag with his plasma blasts, while Chilz power-punched them with his steel-like ice fists, shattering them into rubble.
Scion, still engaged with Zirkon, was half distracted by Quanta’s sudden flight and strange behavior and he took another tumble from the crystal giant’s shockwave attack. Righting himself, he whirled back around and send a powerful Brain Zap into his opponent’s head. Zirkon staggered back, his massive hands clutching at his skull… and stepped over the edge of the narrow basalt bridge.
Scion shot forward so fast he nearly blacked out from the acceleration, his armored hand reaching for Zirkon’s flailing arms… time seemed to slow to molasses… he watched in horror as their fingers just missed… heard the sound of Zirkon’s wind-chime-like wail cut off as he plunged toward the molten maelstrom… the sudden silence…
Scion barely pulled up in time to save himself from suffering the villain’s fate, and as he did a flare of crimson energy erupted from the magma where Zirkon had disappeared. It shot straight up at first, several small tendrils of energy branching off from it as the main coruscating stream arced toward the Succubus… only to splash against the barrier of Quanta’s cocoon.
One of the smaller tendrils of energy brushed against Scion, and his armor briefly glowed a ruddy red before the tendril vanished. The other small tendrils darted off in random directions, vanishing beyond the walls of the caldera in seconds.
The main strand of arcane energy quickly gathered itself back together, a pulsing ball of crimson light hovering over the magma pit. It hesitated, for just a moment, then it too shot away — and straight into Totem, on the central platform with Artemis.
Totem’s body spasmed, head thrown back, spine arching, every muscle gone rigid, his mouth twisted in a silent rictus scream. In seconds the energy was drawn into him, and he collapsed to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. The chaotic power burned within him, and he struggled to contain it, to control it… and as he did, he felt the presence of each of the Avatars he hosted adding a portion of their strength to his own.
After what seemed hours of intense concentration, but was in fact only seconds, Totem rose to his feet, the new power still roiling within him but, for the moment at least, fully under control. As he stood the quantum cocoon surrounding Quanta and the Succubus shattered without warning. Artemis dove aside, barely avoiding the silvery shards that flew off in every direction, while Totem threw up a mystic shield.
In breaching the shell the demoness had managed to shove the amorous Quanta away slightly, but the ensorcelled hero was reaching for her again, apparently oblivious to their sudden audience, still focused on his singular goal.
“Quanta! What the hell is going on?” Artemis growled — and realized she was never going to get the sight of her ferociously aroused teammate out of her head, even if she lived another 150 years. While the villain was clearly taken aback by the hero’s “advances,” Artemis could also see that the Succubus was torn by her own demonic impulses — she was by nature a creature of lust and seduction, after all, and whatever her current goals, she was clearly struggling to keep her body from responding in kind to Quanta’s… efforts.
His gaze fixed on his lady lust, Quanta gestured almost absently, and one of his quantum tunnels opened directly beneath the pair. A look of confusion on her beautiful face, the Succubus’ wings beat frantically, trying to pull away, but Quanta’s lust-amplified strength held her close, and in an instant they had dropped through and were gone.
At that point several things happened at once. Artemis dove through the portal herself, which was beginning to iris closed, just as Cindre swooped up over the lip of the basalt platform and sent a blast of searing heat at Totem. Totem threw up a mystical shield with one hand, and with the other again cast the spell of Azure Bonds on Cindre. This time blue ribbons tightened around the villain, cocooning him from neck to ankles as tightly as a mummy, and he plunged to the rocky surface, hard.
Not giving the elemental mercenary another thought, Totem turned his newly amped power on the closing quantum tunnel, intuitively casting a Spell of Holding. The golden energy flew from his hands and struck Quanta’s shimmering silver portal, forming a ring to hold it open. After a quick survey of the battlefield, and seeing his teammates had things in hand, he leapt through after Artemis…
With the last of the basalt gargoyles destroyed, and no Succubus around to create more, Chilz and the Blue Flame were able to turn their attention to Boue, the last of the Fatal Four still standing. Like everyone else, he’d seen what happened with Zirkon and with the Succubus and Quanta, and he hesitated.
“Give it up, Antoine,” the Blue Flame said, hovering in the air above him. “You saw what happened to Jürgen when he fell into the pit… those gems that give you your powers are no different than the Bloodstones, you realize that, right? And since your hot lady friend needed five powerful artifacts for her ritual, and you guys only managed to retrieve three for her, which two of you do you thing she planned on sacrificing to make up the difference?”
Before Mudslide could respond, Cindre burst the mystic bindings that restrained him, drawing everyone’s attention. With Totem no longer present, the binding spell had weakened enough for the smoldering villain to free himself. He wasted no time on the heroes present, but instead dashed for the still open portal. Scion dove to stop him, but Cindre’s heat aura was too intense for even his armor, forcing the hero to back off.
“I’m going after him,” Scion called over comms. “My sensors show the portal’s terminus is 39.7678 miles due east of here, follow when you can!” Then he was gone as well.
“Feh, Jean-Philip always was a hot-headed fool,” Boue muttered. “If he’s stupid enough to still trust that bitch after all this, he deserves whatever he gets. But enough is enough, I am done here.
“I am leaving. Unless you heroes wish to continue the fight? But no, I suspect you have bigger fish to fry, eh?” He turned and began to scale the nearest cliff, heading for the top of the caldera and the dessert beyond.
“How do you plan to get out of here?” The Blue Flame yelled after him. “You do know we’re in the middle of a freakin’ desert, right?”
“Do not worry about me, boy, I have my methods,” Boue laughed, and vanished over the lip of the caldera.
“Chilz, you’d better go after him, make sure he doesn’t try to steal the Interceptor,” the Blue Flame suggested. “I’ll go through the portal to help the others, OK?”
“Yeah, I suppose we’d better make sure our own ride out of this hell-hole is safe,” Chilz agreed. “Call me if you need me… I think I‘ve had enough lessons to fly the Interceptor 40 miles if I have to.” In fact, he was hoping he’d have to… it would be his first chance to fly that beauty for real…
••••••
When Quanta and the Succubus had dropped through his portal and onto the burning sands of the desert, the demoness had finally managed to break the hero’s hold on her and had gained a little distance by taking to the air. But Quanta didn’t hesitate, flying after her with his amorous monomania still clearly obvious.
Before he could close on her again, however, Artemis’ Shadow-whip lashed out to snare the Succubus by one ankle, yanking her down so that Quanta overshot her. The demoness whipped her leg up, cracking the whip hard and sending Artemis flying. Spinning around to keep track of Quanta, the Succubus was struck full in the back by a mystic bolt from Totem. Staggered, she dropped from the air to slam face-first into the sand.
Where had that minor mystic gotten such power? she wondered, shaking her head to clear it. No matter, she’d deal with him in short order… but first her annoying, silver-plated lover-boy… as yes, there he was, diving down toward her. As flattering, indeed tempting, as she found his lust, there was no time for it now. If he survived her ascension, however…
Her blast of Hellfire struck Quanta in mid-air, wreathing him in crimson flames and hurling him violently backward. He arced down like a comet, trailing flame, to slam into a dune 30 meters away. The Succubus took off, flapping upward hard, and prepared to unleash a finishing blast on the dazed hero when Cindre dropped through the still-open portal and almost collided with her.
As she veered left, he twisted right – and ran straight into the Azure Bonds of Totem. Again. Once more wrapped up like a glowing blue Christmas present the villain slammed into the sand himself, dazed but still cursing violently in French. Before the Succubus could regain her lock on the still groggy Quanta, Scion flashed through the portal, turning in mid-air to fire a Brain Zap into her head at almost point-blank range.
The Succubus reeled back, spiraling once again down to the sands, clutching at her head. For just a moment Jennifer Allman peered in confusion from the Succubus’ eyes, before being pulled back down into her inner darkness with a voiceless wail.
“I’ll kill you all for this indignity,” the demoness shrieked, once again in full control of their shared body, if not her emotions. “You fools have left the Maw unguarded, and soon I will have all the power I need to destroy you all and take control of this world.”
Moving with lightning speed, she scooped up the writhing, bound form of Cindre and, with him dangling from one hand like a rag doll, aimed for the shimmering portal above them — only to meet the Blue Flame coming through from the other side.
Shocked to be on a collision course with the demoness, the Blue Flame reared back and unleashed a double-barreled stream of plasma at her, striking the Succubus full in the chest. She flipped end-over-end in mid-air, and for the last time that day plunged into the sands, trailing blue fire. Cindre’s limp form fell from her grasp and hit the sand hard, bouncing twice before coming to a stop half buried in a dune. Unconscious, his aura began to fuse the sand around him into glass…
The Blue Flame landed next to the unconscious Succubus just as Artemis and Scion reached her. Or rather, reached the unconscious form of Jennifer Allman. A mousy, average looking woman, a foot shorter than her alter ego, lay where the demoness had fallen. Gone were the wings, the horns, and the prepossessing physical traits that had defined the Succubus, leaving the corset/bustier and thigh boots hanging loose on Jennifer.
“A very nice shot, Blue Flame,” Scion said as he landed on the other side of the fallen woman, while Artemis knelt to pluck the pouch from their foe’s belt. “Good teamwork all around, people.”
“Indeed,” Artemis agreed, upturning the pouch and dropping the two surviving Bloodstones into her palm. “A pity we couldn’t save all the stones, of course, but four out of five is not bad. The question now is, what do we do with them?”
“We actually have a more pressing problem,” Totem’s voice came sharply over the comms. “It’s Quanta…”
•• •• ••
When the soul-searing hellfire had blasted Quanta into unconsciousness, it had also cleared his mind of the lustful obsession that had so completely consumed and overwhelmed him. But even groggy and dazed, he still remembered every second of the burning lust that had tormented him – vividly — and all of the actions that lust had driven him to.
“Devrik warned me that I should find a way to shield my mind from possession!” Totem heard Quanta muttering to himself as he clambered up the dune toward his friend. As soon as he’d seen the Succubus go down, the shaman had hurried to his fallen teammate’s side to render aid. As Totem reached him, Quanta’s silvery shell flickered and vanished. “Why the fuck didn’t I take his advice?” Kyle cried.
“Quanta – Kyle – are you OK? What happened?” Totem put out a hand to help his friend up, but Kyle jerked away from the touch, and refused to meet his teammate’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “So sorry…” He turned and, with a gesture, opened a quantum tunnel directly in front of himself. He’d stepped through it before Totem could do more than call his name, and it vanished on his heels, with an audible ‘snick.’
“He’s already out of my sensor range,” Scion said a few minutes later, after Totem had rejoined them and explained what had happened. “I caught one portal opening 40 miles away, and a second one opening almost immediately, right next to it… but beyond that I’d need a satellite link to follow him now.”
“I suspect that he’s running as far as he can,” Artemis said, “as fast as he can. Given what that demon did do him… I’m not surprised. You know Kyle, how conscientious he is, how concerned with doing what’s right. To be driven to such acts as he attempted, even if those actions were out of his control…
“I think even the Succubus was surprised at the strength of the lust she evoked with her attack on his mind. Already over-amped by the power she’d absorbed, she probably failed to account for the abilities of a meta-human… I’d guess succubi are used to being the ones in control when they evoke lust in humans.”
“We can’t just leave him out there,” Chuck said. The portal from the Maw had finally closed when Kyle had vanished, and Chilz had piloted the Interceptor, under JJ’s watchful remote monitoring, to where the others waited. They were now all gathered in the air conditioned interior to discuss their next steps, their prisoners securely contained. “He needs our help; whatever happened, it wasn’t his fault.”
“That’s true,” Scion acknowledged. “No one blames him, Chuck. But he’s the one who suffered having his mind and emotions fu… forcibly altered. He’s a grown man, and even if we could track him, find him, I think it would be wrong to do so. At least right now. We need to give him space; he’ll come home when he’s worked out whatever he needs to work out… and he wouldn’t have left if he’d wanted to do that with us around.”
Further discussion was pre-empted when Totem announced that he’d reached Sabra at last…
18 May 2019, Vanguard Headquarters, Team Ready Room, Astoria, OR
“All-in-all a very nice takedown maneuver by Totem and Quanta,” Artemis said, gesturing at the image in the holo-display floating over the center of the table. “The APD Meta Crimes Unit is holding her in the City Jail’s special containment section, sedated, until SHADE can arrange for secure transport to the Forty Fathoms Super Max.”
“When do they expect to move her?” Quanta asked, staring down at the empty table in front of him and tapping a finger in an arhythmic beat on its glassy surface. His tone was suspiciously diffident.
“Captain Winters says SHADE told him to be ready “soon,” but that they’re keeping the precise timing vague even with the APD,” Scion said, shooting a wary glance at his friend. “And us, apparently. There’s some concern about that idiot Oblivion… or someone… trying to break her out in transit.”
Quanta looked up, frowning, and started to say something sharp, when Totem gave a strangled gasp and staggered to his feet, grasping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip. His eyes were glazed, as if they no longer saw the room around him, and his body went rigid. “Devaj!” was the only word he managed to push past clenched teeth. He was aware of his teammates leaping to their feet, but their words were distant…
Cooper had only been half-listening to the debriefing session (he’d been there, after all, he knew what had happened). Most of his thoughts were on his upcoming dinner with Meg that evening. It was ostensibly to celebrate her well-received article covering the third anniversary of the Astoria Incident, which had run in the Oregonian two days ago and been picked up by the Daily Star as well. But in fact he intended for it to commemorate the third anniversary of their renewed relationship. He had arranged a surprise dinner for them, made up of dishes from her favorite food carts around the city. He rather thought he was finally getting the hang of this whole romantic relationship thing —
Küng of Sgang Gwaay LlanagaayIsland! Help us!
The psychic cry slammed into his brain like a lightning strike, and with it came a kaleidoscope of images, sounds and emotions. He saw the grand entrance foyer to a stately old Victorian… he knew it, the former home of Arkanos, Roland Reid, the late Magus Prime… current home of his widower, Devaj Archaya… “Devaj!” He gasped out, recognizing the voice in his head… feelings of anger… and fear… washed over him… the image of a beautiful woman… a hulking shape behind her… other dark shapes… then four men in brown robes… no, not men, lizard men, Serpent People… the sounds of conflict, shouts, an explosion…
The Sanctum… wards have been breached… invaders…
Psychic static washed out much of what Devaj was trying to convey, only the emotion coming through whole. He strained to make out the words.
…no time… the fight to… you must…
There was a flare of light, followed by an agonizing sense of pain… Cooper clutched at his right shoulder —
…Quanta reached out to grasp Totem’s arm, and his teammate collapsed, suddenly limp. Quanta settled his friend back into his station chair as the others gathered around, concerned looks on their faces.
“I’m… I’m alright,” Totem said. The pain faded, if less quickly than the visions, and he sat up, visibly gaining strength as he spoke. “We have to move quickly — the Sanctum Primus has been attacked, its defenses are breached. I fear Devaj has been injured, or worse. Enemies are already inside, I think, and more are gathering. How quickly can we reach New Atlantis?”
“I’m sending word to the hanger now, the ground crew will start prepping the Interceptor,” Scion said, his helmet forming around his head as he spoke. “We can be in the air in ten minutes, and in New Atlantis in under an hour.”
“Damn!” Totem was on his feet again, and he turned to Quanta. “Is there any way you can extend one of your quantum tunnels that far? Any way to boost your range that much?”
“I’m sorry,” his friend said, shaking his head. “I’ve been working on extending my range, yeah, but I’ve never even come close to continental distances.”
“Artemis, I know you can shadow-step that far, and you’ve been to the Sanctum,” Totem turned to the black-cloaked woman. “You can’t take us all, but what if you and I make the jump? We might be able to hold off the invaders long enough for the others to reach us.”
“I don’t like splitting the team,” Scion said. “Is the danger that imminent? What about the Alliance, or the Sampson’s? They’re all much closer, if they could hold things together until we arrive —“
“The danger really is that great,” Artemis said before Totem could reply. “The Sanctum of the Magus Prime holds some of the most powerful — and in the wrong hands deadly — arcane artifacts outside of Shambhala itself. They must be protected.
“This attack is suspiciously well-timed – the Sampson family are all out in the Belt just now, and once again many of the most powerful Alliance members are out of the city or even off-planet. And in any case, since the loss of Sabra, neither team has anyone well-versed in magic. Whoever is orchestrating this is clearly well-informed. I too dislike splitting the team, John, but in this instance I fear we must. Cooper’s plan appears to be the optimal solution.”
“OK, agreed,” Scion said. “Take what you need in the way of – wait, something is coming through Dispatch… reports are flooding the emergency lines about a sudden, large group of meta-humans just appearing… that’s very odd, it appears to be a huge supervillain free-for-all in a suburban neighborhood… Apollo Terraces, that moderately swanky development on the southern edge of the city… that psychotic biker gang the Devil’s Advocates have been confirmed —“
“What?” Totem barked. “They were in the vision Devaj sent in his call for help — they were still outside the Sanctum, seemed to be fighting others, I couldn’t make out who, but I definitely recognized them from that fight Blue Flame and I had with them last year.”
Totem bent down to tap a couple of buttons on the console set in the table top at his station, bringing up a map of the city in the the central holo-display. Apollo Terraces was a large subdivision on the southern slopes of Union Hill, its streets set in widening semicircles down the hill’s face, with stunning views across the Cascadia National Forest to Mt. Defiance.
“Quanta, that’s within your tunneling range, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing at the glowing red emergency symbol flashing near the top of the neighborhood.
“Well, yes,” his teammate replied, looking puzzled. “But what about this attack in New Atlantis, on this so-called Sanctum Mysterioso, or whatever? I thought you were hot to—“
“This is the attack on the Sanctum,” Totem said impatiently. “The Sanctum is not so much a physical place as a concept, a moveable feast… it’s been in one place for a very long time, thanks to Roland’s powerful will; but I think now, with no Magus in residence, it’s responding to its caretaker’s wishes. I think that’s what Devaj was trying to tell me, at the end — that he was bringing the fight to me. To us. The Sanctum Primus has relocated itself to Astoria. Now, can you open a tunnel to that spot, or not?”
With a doubtful glance at Artemis and Scion, Quanta shrugged and nodded. Gesturing towards the rooms southern wall of windows he willed a portal into existence in front of them, connecting the Vanguard’s Ready Room with a spot several miles to their southeast… as the shimmering-edged opening widened it revealed a pleasant looking suburban street, glistening in the gentle rain of a Pacific Northwest spring morning — with two burning police cars and a number of bodies, mostly costumed or uniformed, scattered artfully around them.
“Game time!” Chilz cried, grinning as he stepped through the portal, the Blue Flame hot on his heels…
• • • • • •
The Vanguard stepped into chaos. Several more police cars were pulling up as Quanta’s portal closed behind the heroes, staying well back from the two burning and partially crushed cruisers askew in the street. Several dozen by-standers were gathered across the street and to either side of a meta-human free-for-all, phones out to record the action and apparently oblivious to their own danger. The cops turned their attention to crowd control as soon as they spotted the heroes.
Already half-a-dozen costumed bodies were down, presumably all of the villainous persuasion, along with at least four uniformed police officers. Whatever fight had gone down, it was being carried on now by several still-standing villains in front of a large Craftsman-style mansion, set back from the street in an expansive property behind a high stone wall.
Three degenerate-looking bikers on customized motorcycles circled a woman, at least seven feet tall, in the open yard and driveway. As they watched, the woman, who seemed to be made of living sand, delivered a roundhouse body blow with a massive fist at the end of a grotesquely extended arm to one of the bikers, who went down in a tangle of blood, teeth and twisted metal. He joined a fourth biker already down near the steps to the front door.
The iron gates across the driveway stood twisted open, and framed in them was a bizarre tableau. A tuxedoed, opera cloaked and top-hatted stage magician seemed to be putting on a show for the gathered crowd of by-standers. But he was not your garden variety magician… his skin was pale, with a greenish cast, and patches of scabrous flesh peeled away on face and hands to reveal white bone. He was “assisted” by a dozen other zombies, of more conventional appearance, half of them cadaverous women in tattered, fraying, spangled costumes.
“I recognize this one,” Totem said over comms. “He’s an undead former stage magician, calls himself Abracadaver. He may look like a bad joke, but he’s actually a disturbingly powerful magic user – and dangerous.” The zombie magician continued addressing the crowd with his florid patter, seemingly oblivious to the heroes as long as he had an enthralled audience .
“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, these marvelous volunteers will soon have you gasping in amazement and disbelief as they assist me up here on stage. You won’t believe your eyes as I work my magic upon them!”
He gestured grandly at four by-standers, local residents by the look of them, who his zombie assistants had apparently kidnapped for his act – one woman was surrounded by three flaming hoops, another was struggling against smoky black tendrils that were slowly pulling her into a large top hat; two others, a man and a woman, were imprisoned in transparent boxes, only heads and feet protruding – and their torsos apparently swapped. Three of the undead assistants stood by each victim, gesturing randomly as Abracadaver chattered on merrily. He seemed to thrive on drawing out the suspense…
Scion sent a stream of electro bolts straight into his center of mass, but Abracadaver noticed neither the impacts nor the electrical jolt. Somehow, while dramatically bowing to his left the undead performer managed to turn out of the way of the stream of bucky balls Quanta hurled at him; he then pirouetted right to bow to the other side of “the house” and in doing so avoided the lash of Artemis’ shadow whip.
Chilz, meanwhile, had ice-ramped up and over the wall surrounding the mansion to deal with the remaining Devil’s Advocates, who remained engaged with the sand woman. She was almost as tall as he was, and pretty hot looking, for a chick apparently made of billions of grains of sand. Well, who are you to talk, Ice Boy?
As he glided down over the tall stone wall he saw one biker, with a spiked German WWI helmet, swing a wicked looking war axe at the woman — she dodged aside with surprising grace, given her size and apparent mass. In turn she gestured at the biker and a stream of coarse sand blasted out from her arm to strike him in the side. He roared in rage, but didn’t lose control of his bike, apparently more angry than injured.
It was the sand blast that dropped the dime for Chilz – he remembered who she was now, he’d read a dossier on her last month, during one of Scion and Artemis‘ on-going education briefings. Maggie Mueller, akaSandblaster, a mercenary soldier who’d stumbled across some ancient temple out in the Iraqi dessert several years ago and gained her meta-human powers. The second Devil’s Advocate was circling behind her, whirling a vicious chain over his head, preparing to lash out with it, and Chilz began to form an ice cage around him. But the chain must’ve been as uncanny as its owner, because it smashed through the thick ice bars as they formed, like they were glass.
For his trouble the ice giant took a solid blow to the back from the first biker’s glowing axe, sending radial fracture lines up his torso and staggering him forward – and straight into a roundhouse punch to the jaw from Sandblaster. As he went flying backwards, smashing into a large ornamental fountain, he heard her laugh and call out to the biker.
“Well, at least you’re good for a distraction, Cueball, if nothing else!”
Chilz grinned as the water of the fountain immediately began healing the various micro fractures in his ice form, and he felt his strength increasing…
Blue Flame was attempting a cage as well, his made of the controlled plasma from his own body, to try and contain Abracadaver before the moldering magician could finish his spiel and really get started on his “act.” That seemed like it might not be too great a thing for his “volunteers.” The cage at least managed to finally get the performer’s attention, but with a wave of his ratty old wand he somehow dissipated the flaming bars.
Looking peeved, he glared up at the hovering hero. A bolt of solid black energy lanced upwards from the tip of the wand, striking Blue Flame square in the chest and sending him tumbling backwards. A disturbing wave of cold washed over him as he struggled to right himself, and his azure glow dimmed visibly.
Fortunately for Blue Flame, before the zombie magician could follow up on this disturbing attack he was forced to dodge a plummeting block of solid carbon which Quanta had called into being over his head. With a twirl of his cloak, Abracadaver was suddenly not under the block, which hit the ground with a thud, but instead five feet to the left. With an imperious gesture, he waved several of his zombie “assistants” to converge on the silvery hero, but by then the Blue Flame had recovered. He swooped in, this time wielding a flaming katana, and the undead minions collapsed in a pile of cauterized limbs, suddenly inert once more as their animating force was burned away.
Scion took the opportunity to blast Abracadaver with his Brain Tickler, but quickly realized it was unlikely to affect an already dead, if somehow still functioning, brain. Damn, he hated this supernatural shit almost as much as Quanta did, even if he didn’t share his friend’s doubts about its true nature. The thought was cut short as several twisting tendrils of deep black snaked out of the undead magician’s torso, leaping upward to encircle the armored hero. Arms and legs pinned tight by their cold, draining energy, they began to pull him down…
Back on the mansions grounds, one of the bikers (Born Loser according to the whispered note from Scion’s TacComp transmitted to Chilz’ earpiece) was roaring up the driveway, headed for the front doors to the Sanctum. Flush with moisture, Chilz gestured and a thick wall of ice began to form almost faster than the eye could follow, completely sealing off the entrance. The biker turned his bike only just in time, sliding into the barrier sideways rather than head on. Glaring, he spewed a string of frustrated curses at the towering ice giant.
Out in the street, Totem had been gathering his own mystic energies, and he now cast the most powerful dispel incantation he was capable of, directed against Abracadaver, his minions and, most importantly, the magical “props” imprisoning and threatening the innocent neighbors. As he’d feared, the spell did nothing against the magician or his zombies – their state of undeath was no simple magic, but something deeper and more powerful. But the items holding the prisoners were the product of true magic, and as such they evaporated like dew in the summer sun under the power of his counter-spell. The four victims, finding themselves free, scattered in four different directions, dodging the clumsy, grasping hands of the undead minions. Mostly.
With Artemis and Totem running interference, taking out zombies that got too close, three of Abracadaver’s would-be victims made it to safety behind the police cordon. But the fourth, the woman who had been farthest from help, the one imprisoned by the flaming hoops, was grabbed by two zombies and dragged back to their undead master. The magician wrapped a cold, desiccated arm around her throat, but as he did so Scion burst the grip of the black tendrils imprisoning him, shredding them to mist.
Before he could take aim at the stage magician again, however, he was suddenly overcome by a wave of unrelenting hunger and weakness… he felt as if he hadn’t eaten in days, at least. He was suddenly shaky, trembling inside his armor. It took all his will power to keep gravity from bringing him to the ground, stumbling as he touched down under his own power. Above Scion, Blue Flame was suffering even greater symptoms of starvation, which confused the hell out of him – he never felt hungry or tired in his plasma form, yet now he felt both, cramping up from apparent starvation and feeling weak with exhaustion…
In the driveway, Chilz felt the wave of hunger and weakness wash over him as well, and he had eyes on the reason – that bastard Born Loser had come to a halt near the gates and had stood up, straddling his bike, hands raised above his head like some demented Nixon saluting a crowd. Waves of almost invisible energy radiated from those hands, washing over everyone in a 10 meter radius, and with those waves came the hunger. The Devil’s Advocates were supposed to be modern incarnations of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, and Chilz realized Born Loser must be Starvation. The riders must also be immune to one another’s powers, for Cueball was well within the area of effect, but remained untouched; Sandblaster, however, staggered back from the axe-wielding biker, looking suddenly pale, shaken, and ill…
It was Artemis who took the worst of the effect, collapsing to the street in front of a smoldering police car just as she handed off the last victim to the cops. It was as if all the nourishment she’d taken over the last 150 years had suddenly been withdrawn… her mind grew dark and confused, and for a moment she thought she was back in Tulip Hill Hall, as a young girl. There had been that one winter, after the War, when there hadn’t been enough food… she’d been so hungry… and Toby had given her some of his own food… she struggled to pull herself back to the now, away from those painful memories…
Totem, outside the effective radius of Born Loser’s power, saw his teammates reel, and Artemis go down – she looked suddenly emaciated and aged. He realized immediately what was happening… his own mystic senses saw the apocalyptic energies more clearly than the others could, and he lashed out with his Winding Whip spell. The glowing tendril of violet energy wrapped around the demonic biker, and he yanked hard – Born Loser stumbled over his bike, going to his knees on the gravel… his power faltered and faded, even as he released a flare of hellfire that burned quickly through the spectral whip.
With the source gone, Artemis quickly began to throw off the effects of the mystical starvation; her innate regenerative powers had her back on her feet in less than a minute. “Scion, Born Loser is the primary threat at the moment, we need to take him out fast,” she called over comms. After dodging a blast from the Blue Flame, the biker had somehow taken to the air himself on his bike, and was futilely attempting to whip-chain the young hero. Quanta had managed to encase Abracadaver’s remaining victim in one of his carbon sheaths, leaving the performer without victims and so neutralizing his greatest threat, at least for the moment.
“Agreed,” Scion said, and he unleashed a Brain Zap at the Devil’s Advocate. He was gratified to see that, whatever uncanny powers these bikers possessed, they still had functioning brains. Of a sort. Born Loser almost lost control of his air-borne bike, righted it, and then did lose control as a chunk of masonry hurled by Artemis slammed into his back. He flew over the handlebars and bike and biker both slammed down into Abracadaver, and then the ground. Limbs entangled in the smoking bike, Born Loser groaned and struggled to get up.
Cueball roared up behind Artemis, attempting to grab her in his hairy arms, but she spun, kicked and vaulted over the biker, coming down in a crouch well away from him. This left him positioned just a few feet from both his partner, who was still disentangling himself from his bike, and the undead magician. Quanta took advantage of this fortuitous alignment of villainy to drop another massive block on the gathered foes.
Cueball managed to avoid the slab, if barely, by taking to the air himself, and Abracadaver simply shrugged it off, as he had the earlier impact from Born Loser and his bike. But the third Advocate had taken the blow full on, just as he’d staggered upright, and he was now down for the count.
The zombie magician was looking truly peeved at this point. He was simply livid at the indignity of it all… the loss of his victims, the loss of the last of his minions, and the loss of his audience – the police had finally managed to get the neighborhood gawkers well back and mainly out of earshot – it really was just too much to bear!
“Very well then,” he declaimed with a dramatic flourish of his tattered, stained cloak. “If my talents of prestidigitation and wonderment are not appreciated here, then I will simply have to seek a more appreciative venue elsewhere; perhaps in a somewhat less bourgeoise milieu.” Tipping his battered top hat, he bowed towards the heroes and vanished in a sudden swirling cloud of dead black smoke.
The heroes wasted no time worrying about the zombie, and both Scion and Quanta unleashed blasts at Cueball as he roared in from above for another attack on Artemis, glowing axe raised high. The stream of electro bolts and bucky balls struck him full on, staggering him , and Artemis snapped her whip upward, its black shadow-cord wrapping around the handlebars. With a sharp, hard yank downward, she sent both man and machine crashing into the stone wall surrounding the Sanctum, and the last of the Devil’s Advocates was hors ‘d combat.
Beyond that wall, in the driveway and large front yard, Chilz and Sandblaster continued to slug it out. Earlier, as he’d caught that maniac Cueball’s axe between his palms, encasing it momentarily in a sheath of ice, she had taken advantage of his distraction to deliver another sneak attack, which had sent him reeling and allowed the biker to free his axe.
“Clearly you two wanna be alone,” Cueball had sniggered, and then roared out to join the fight in the street.
“What is your problem, lady?” Chilz demanded, rubbing his jaw. “You were already fighting those assholes before we got here, hell, I even came over here to give you a hand – so why are you helping them now?”
“Aww, aren’t you the chivalrous knight in icy armor, coming to the defense of helpless lil ole me,” Sandblaster laughed. She sounded like she was from somewhere in the South, but with a hint of something foreign. “Honey, they were just in my way, and so are you. Although, I gotta admit, you’re a lot easier on the eye (and the nose) than that pack of Outsiders rejects. Maybe we should grab a drink sometime, Liebling… when we’re not on opposite sides, of course.”
While he was still trying to figure out if she was serious, she delivered another roundhouse punch that he didn’t see coming. Damn, he thought muzzly as he flew through the air, I keep forgetting about her reach with that sand arm… and that frickin’ fist… and then he’d blacked out. Not for long, fortunately, as she had once again sent him flying into a fountain, this time on the opposite side of the yard. He was awake and regenerating again in less than a minute, as the water sublimated into his frozen form to rejuvenate him.
Chilz shook his head, clearing the last of the haze from his mind, to see her blasting away like her namesake at his ice barrier in front of the mansion’s doors. She was very focused… and given enough time, she could actually abrade his ice wall to nothing… but maybe this time he could get in his own sneak attack…
Before he could blast her, however, the Blue Flame was there, encasing Sandblaster in a cylinder of blue plasma. “Let’s see how you do as glass,” the hovering hero laughed. “Not so tough then, I’m guessing.”
“Sorry kid,” the mercenary laughed. “My body ain’t made of regular sand, in case you hadn’t noticed – and I don’t fuse into glass, at least not at any temperature I’ve been hit with so far. It’s not like you’re the first guy to think of that.
“And I’m pretty much immune to cold, too… but I’m not anxious to find out how I’d do against both at once. And Scheisse, no one is paying me for this job, I just thought I might pick up something aufregend when I heard this dump was ripe for the plucking. Who knew it’d turn out to be Grand Central Station? Time to cut my losses, I think. It was fun, though, Chilz, and I was serious about that drink sometime… you’re one tall, cool drink of water, and I don’t often meet guys taller than me.”
With that her body seemed to lose cohesion, and she collapsed to the gravel of the driveway as a simple pile of sand… a pile which quickly vanished into the ground. In seconds she was gone.
“Wait a minute… Chuck, were you fighting her, or trying to make time with her,” Jonny laughed, his plasma cage dissipating once it was obvious the mercenary was really gone. “You dog, you!”
Chilz just rolled his eyes, and stumped back to the nearest of the shattered fountains to finish recharging. “No comment. And we’re in the field – use code names, doofus. If Artemis had caught that, you’d be doing another week of late-night monitor duty, buddy.”
•••••••
“Frankly,” Quanta was saying to Scion when Chilz and the Blue Flame rejoined the others on the street, “I think a Sharknado is more likely than so-called magic as an explanation for—”
“We need to get inside,” Totem said in clipped tones, absently signing off on whatever paperwork the SHADE Agent-in-Charge shoved at him. “Chilz, can you remove your ice barrier? Which was an excellent idea, by the way, thank you for keeping everyone out.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Chilz said, turning reluctantly back from scanning the street. No reporters within earshot, just lots of SHADE agents slapping power restraints on unconscious evil-doers. No chance to give an interview, but at least that meant it was unlikely there’d be any footage on the news tonight of his being used as a punching bag. He turned back toward the mansion, and mentally ordered his partially eroded wall of ice to evaporate…
Artemis had taken over dealing with Agent Alex Vezini from the distracted Totem, while Scion took his fretful teammate off to the side. “Totem, I know it’s urgent, and you’re worried about your friend. But we are not going to go charging in without some idea of who might be there ahead of us. Especially not into someplace as… odd… as the Sanctum Primus. It’s dangerous enough on its own, without super-powered criminals waiting to ambush us.
“Look, I’ve hacked into all of the local security footage – thank God for doorbell cameras and paranoid homeowners. I’ve got at least three decent angles on the front of the house here.”
Scion tapped a key on his wrist comp, and a holographic screen popped into existence over his forearm. It showed the street in front of the Craftsman mansion with a time stamp of 20 minutes earlier… if this footage was anything to go by, the house had always been there, peacefully minding its own business… and then a dozen costumed figures appeared, apparently from thin air, already heavily involved in a massive free-for-all. He tapped again, and the footage sped up.
Three figures, a petite woman accompanied by a massive, hulking brute of a man in ragged, ill-fitting clothes and a smaller figure in blue-black armor, could just be seen slipping inside the mansion’s front doors, less than a minute into the action. Five minutes later four brown-robed figures also slipped inside, followed two minutes later by a dark, shadowy figure that was impossible to make out. Five minutes after that the Vanguard arrived. Looking over Scion’s shoulder, Chilz winced. There was a surprisingly good angle on that last roundhousepunch which had laid him out, even if only momentarily. He just hoped the press didn’t get hold of the damn video…
“OK, it doesn’t look like anyone else got in,” Scion said, shutting down the playback. “Not least because of that ice wall of yours, Chilz. Good tactical thinking. The quality of the footage isn’t good enough at these ranges to make out faces… did anyone recognize any of the eight individuals who managed to get in?”
No one did, although Artemis suspected the hulking man might well be the strange, supernatural creature known as the Revenant. But if so, she had no idea who the woman was. “Although she must be formidable, if she can control that nearly mindless brute.”
“Agent Venzini,” Totem called to the SHADE commander, who was overseeing the last of the defeated super-criminals into a secure vehicle. “Keep your people, and the police, and anyone else out of that building. It’s not safe for anyone at this point, but we’re going in. Let me emphasize, do not allow anyone else to follow us inside, under any circumstances.”
The agent nodded acknowledgment, looking worried, and the Vanguard moved forward past the twisted gates and up the steps of the massive front porch, Totem leading the way. The elegant double entry doors had frosted glass panels, etched with a simple Craftsman motif, and opened easily under the shaman’s hand. They stepped into the foyer, a wood-paneled antechamber with floors inlaid with colorful tiles in pleasing geometric patterns. Half-glazed doorways to either side opened onto sitting rooms or parlors, used to entertain invitees. But in the center of the large entry space four unconscious brown-robed bodies were scattered about. Inhuman figures, a closer look revealed – all four were quasi-reptilian, obviously Serpent People. Each clutched a curved dagger in their scaly hands.
On the far side of the room an older man, fully human, with salt-and-pepper hair and a red dot on his forehead, dressed in a charcoal suit, was sprawled at the foot of a large statue of a winged woman. Blood was pouring from a wound on his left arm and pooling on the tile floor around him.
“Devaj!” Totem cried, and rushed to his friend’s side. The old man looked up at him with glazed eyes… after a moment he managed a weak smile of recognition. “Küng,” he mumbled weakly. “This… this is exactly… why I so… dislike unexpected visitors, yes?” His eyes rolled back in his head, and he lolled back limply in Totem’s arms.
“Damn, if he’s been bitten by one of those damn reptiles, he needs immediate attention – their bite is extremely venomous.” He was tearing the old Indian’s jacket and shirt away form the wound as he spoke, revealing a deep series of nasty puncture wounds. “I can use a healing spell to draw out the poison; Quanta, can you use your own healing ability to begin repairing the physical damage?”
For once passing up the opportunity to make a snarky comment about magic, Quanta knelt at the old man’s other side and began expanding his quantum consciousness into the wound. He could sense the lethal poison being drawn out by whatever energy his teammate was using, and he noted the procedure… he was still unable to do much with things like poison, or cancer, or other subtle biological problems. He was mostly good for physical trauma; but seeing Totem’s healing in action, on the quantum level, gave him some new insights… yes, this suggested a new approach he might take… but of course this was’t the time or place. He focused his mind on knitting back together the torn flesh of the Sanctum’s guardian.
Once the old man was stabilized, Scion carried him into the western sitting room and laid him on a sofa, while Chilz piled up the unconscious Serpent People before tossing them out the door for SHADE to gather up. “I wonder how the old guy took all four of them out without leaving a mark on any of ‘em,” he said to Artemis, as she firmly shut the doors behind him, cutting off Agent Venzini’s worried questions… apparently he’d never seen actual Serpent People before.
“At a guess, I’d say he did it with those,” Artemis replied, pointing to a series of strange sigils crudely painted on the inside of the doors and on the walls to either side. “Everyone tends to forget, living in Roland’s shadow as he did, that Devaj is a competent sorcerer in his own right. Maybe not up to his husband’s weight, but skilled enough to cast protective runes to bolster the house’s failing wards. Unfortunately, those bastards of the Brood of the Bronze Claw are surprisingly tough… obviously one of them held mis together long enough to get in at least one solid attack.”
Stepping back into the drawing room they saw Totem gently pulling a small silver hand-mirror from Devaj’s grip, quite strong even in unconsciousness. “Sabra…” the old Indian whispered before sinking back into deep sleep.
“He’ll need a few hours, at least, to fully recover,” Totem started to say, then stopped, his gaze riveted on the small mirror in his hand. Instead of reflecting himself, and the room behind him, it showed a dark chamber he recognized, and another’s face that he knew very well indeed. “Sabra!”
“Cooper, thank the Fates that you and your friends made it in time,” the voice of the one-time Magus Prime of Earth came clearly from the scrying mirror. He’d last spoken to her over a year ago, when she’d reluctantly left Earth to take up her responsibilities as the new ruler of the Dark World, and he was glad to see that the job appeared to be agreeing with her – she sounded stronger, more sure of herself, than he’d ever known her to be before. “I knew it was the right move, helping Devaj shift the Sanctum closer to you. How is he? I know one of the Brotherhood managed to bite him, though he tried to downplay it.”
“Of course he did,” Totem said with a laugh. “He was probably afraid you’d come back to try and save him, and he’d never want to be responsible for all the lives that action would cost in the Dark World.”
“You’re right, of course… and while things are going better here than I’d first feared, I’m still very much bringing all the mystical threads of this amalgamated world under my control. It will be years yet, I think, before I can safely leave it for any significant length of time. Which brings us to the current problem – I can’t return right now, not even to secure the Sanctum Primus; but I refuse to let it be looted or, worse yet, fall into evil hands. The Guardian is not on Earth at the moment, so I’m afraid this job falls to you alone, my friend. You and the Vanguard, if they’re willing.”
“Of course we are, Sabra,” Artemis assured her, stepping up beside Totem to peer into the mirror. “We are no more anxious to see a nexus of such power fall into the wrong hands than you are. What can you tell us about what we’re facing? We saw video footage of a several people entering before the Brood goons… were there any others before them, when the Sanctum was still in New Atlantis?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t be entirely sure, Artemis. My connection to the Sanctum isn’t that strong any more. I can sense…” she paused a moment, clearing concentrating “…an ancient undead presence… and someone trapped within a powerful curse.” Sabra’s frown deepened. “There’s something else, wound through them all… something strange and very powerful, yet so diffuse I can’t get a handle on it at all.” She shook her head as if to clear it, and looked once more straight out of the mirror.
“But I know exactly who it was who actually broke the wards… which were weakening, yes, but were still fully in place. It was Medea! She’s after something powerful, I fear. If she’s smart—and let’s be honest, she’s not stupid, no matter how sick and twisted she is otherwise —she’s after the Atlas of Eternity. I suspect, whatever that unnatural thread of power I’m sensing really is, that is what provided Medea the keys to the castle.”
“Medea?” Quanta asked in disbelief. “Like from the Greek myths?”
“Yes,” Sabra said , either missing or simply ignoring his tone. “She’s a demigod sorceress, the same one who killed her own kids just to drive her cheating husband mad three thousand years ago. She hasn’t improved any since then, I assure you.
“She’s never been Magus-Prime-level in terms of raw power, and she’s been laying relatively low the last few decades, I know. She’s always been more of a trickster — a parasite who relies on others’ strength to get what she wants. But with the treasures the Atlas of Eternity could lead her to… well, she could stand on her own then. Maybe even take the title of Magus Prime, if she were lucky enough, and wise in her choices. And that would be a disaster for Earth!”
“What exactly is this Atlas of Eternity?” Scion asked.
“The Atlas… well, that’s a crazy story. It’s… sort of map to all the secret doors between worlds and to the treasures hidden in the cracks of creation. If you want to master space, or find some terrible lost artifact, or recover a hidden bauble? The Atlas of Eternity will guide you to where you need to be to achieve your goal. A clever person could cause a lot of trouble with it, which is why it’s been locked in the Sanctum since Merlin was the Magus Prime.”
“Can you you guide us to Medea, or at least to where the Atlas is?” Totem asked. “I have no idea where to find it, I’m just not that familiar with the Sanctum… Artemis, you’ve been here before, do you…?”
“Not a clue,” his teammate shook her head. “I don’t even recognize this part of the house, and I know it changes over time.”
“Yes, the Sanctum Primus is a space outside of space,” Sabra said. “It’s built across the intersections of reality. It’s… it’s so much larger than it looks, and the rooms do drift a bit, even at the best of times, if you don’t know where you’re going. Without a Magus Prime to guide its form, it’s only gotten worse. But if you can keep focused on where you need to be, or on what you need to find, it should give you the path to get there – the house isn’t exactly sentient, but it does have an intelligence of sorts, one that is geared toward helpfulness. Even so things might still get a little… weird?”
“Just don’t go looking for trouble, because the house will very likely provide it. And be wary. There might still be things trapped inside there, beyond the current trespassers; things which might have been released by this invasion. And if you use up the toilet paper, replace it. Devaj will really chew you out if he comes to and finds out there’s no toilet paper.
“Listen, I have to go for now… the time differential between our dimensions is particularly large right now, and it’s a strain to keep the connection open. But keep the Cheval Eye — the hand mirror we’re talking through. If you get truly lost or really need my knowledge of the Sanctum, use it to contact me. For every hour on Earth, about five are passing here just now… which reminds me, keep in mind that, within the Sanctum itself, 13 hours pass for every 12 in the outside world.”
After a few more words of assurance that they were on the job, Sabra’s image faded from the glass, and it became an ordinary-looking mirror once more. Leaving Devaj as comfortable as possible, the heroes returned to the foyer and considered their options. Aside from the two parlors to either side, and the rooms beyond them, two corridors led to either wing of the house, and double doors beyond the statue, where Devaj’s blood was slowly drying, led back into the depths of the mansion.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Artemis said after a moment, “but I’m getting the strong sense that we should proceed straight back, through those doors.” There were murmurs of agreement, and she led the way, pushing open the heavy oak doors and stepping into the wide, dark wood-paneled corridor beyond. Doors appeared at intervals as they paced the hallway, but no one felt any compulsion to open them, and the corridor began to slowly curve to the right. About the time Quanta estimated they should be about in the living room of a house two blocks northeast of them (or maybe the kitchen), they reaced another set of wide double doors, these with panels of thick etched glass inset in the upper halves. The room beyond seemed brightly lit…
“The Great Libray,” Totem said as he swung the doors open and led the way in. “I’ve been here before, more than once… although I do remember it looking a little different…”
Whatever it might have looked like previously, at the moment it was an immense two level chamber at least 100 feet long and 40 feet wide. The upper level was a wide mezzanine around the walls, reached by twin sets of curving stairs at the far end, and above that an immense frosted glass ceiling let in a gray, diffuse daylight… which Quanta found puzzling, as he was certain they’d not climbed any stairs, and that the house was at least three stories tall… well, inter-dimensional tesseract space was hardly unheard of, and was certainly no proof of any so-called “magic.” Quite the opposite, actually…
Every wall, from floor to the high ceiling, was lined with shelves, and those shelves were filled with books of every size and description, as well as scrolls, tablets, folios and other unrecognizable forms of compiled written knowledge. Chairs and reading tables were scattered about the open central space, to either side of a wide aisle of bookshelves running down the center of the room. Littered with books, magazines, games, puzzles, and maps, they invited the passerby to pause and relax, just for a moment, with whatever they might find diverting…
And as diverting and fascinating as the room promised to be, everyone felt the press of urgency to find and stop the various invaders who had breached the Sanctum. They passed through the vast space to the far doors, and stepped out into a corridor almost identical to the one they’d entered from. Several more minutes of brisk walking down winding corridors brought them to a new set of double doors — which opened into the Great Library.
It quickly became obvious that they were stuck, at least for the moment. Totem sensed a certain loneliness in the chamber, and an eagerness to please. “I think the Sanctum may believe there is something for us to learn here, related to our goals… I sense no malice, only a desire to help… and maybe a little loneliness. I suggest that we just see what the Library may be trying to show us… and remember what Sabra said – focus on our goals, don’t get distracted.”
Seeing no other viable options, since the others seemed adamant about not trying to blast holes through the walls – “that would be incredible dangerous,” Totem had assured him, “and almost certainly useless” – Quanta had given in with ill grace and began wandering the aisles, glancing at book titles. Every now and then, out of the corner of his eye, he would catch a glimpse of someone. But whenever he turned toward the figure or figures, they turned translucent and quickly faded away. The most disturbing of these was a blond-haired tyke, of maybe eight, dressed like a child from the turn of the Twentieth Century, including short pants, Buster Brown shoes, and a large bow-tie, crouched behind a large stack of books on the floor, staring at him. As the apparition faded away Quanta thought the kid had been looking back at him, and had seemed startled…
As he wandered the library he noticed that books seemed to slide out on the shelves as he passed, just a little, so subtlety that it was hard to be sure… and books laid out on tables would have some errant breeze (from where, he wondered, annoyed) flutter their pages… and when he bothered to look, the book or the chapter was always about something he was interested in… chemistry, physics, quantum mechanics, fencing… but he resolutely refused to be tempted.
Until he caught a glimpse of a treatise that seemed to reference treating cancer with kundalini crystals. His mind was still partially on his recent healing of the old caretaker of this place, and the insights he’d gleaned watching Totem’s power at work on the quantum level. This slim volume seemed to dovetail perfectly into those thoughts… he was hardly aware of pulling up a chair as he began reading. His previous intransigence was forgotten as the ideas he’d only dimly begun to form began to coalesce in his mind…
Artemis, wandering through a different section of the Library, was also catching occasional glimpses of strange, apparition-like figures. She recognized a young Roland Reid, as she’d known him in the Fifties, playing chess with the now long-dead New York crook called the Sandman, also looking much younger. She smiled as the vision faded… she’d suspected at the time that the two “arch-enemies”might have had something more going on, in the period before Roland met Devaj… her smile faded as she noticed a splotch of ink on a nearby reading table. A shiny, fresh, and wet splotch of ink.
She turned her full focus on examining the table and its contents. A loose sheaf of note paper lay to one side, near an inkwell and an antique fountain pen. It was from the latter that the spilled ink had come, and quite recently, since such ink dried fairly quickly. She began to examine the books stacked nearby on the table, and in moments she was completely engrossed. Several proved to be the professional journals of Arkanos, Roland’s public heroic identity; others were catalogs of various powerful artifacts he had gathered over the years, and ledgers wherein he described the experiments he had performed on many of those artifacts.
Skimming the journals, Artemis learned that, in his later years, the Magus Prime had feared a powerful spellcaster would attempt to wrest control of Earth’s magic away from his chosen successor if he died before Sabra was powerful enough to successfully defend her title. To forestall such an eventuality, over the last several years of his life Roland had created several magical talismans—the Arcane Wards as he’d called them —from existing artifacts in his collection and dispersed them around them world, where he believed they would prevent any malevolent infiltration of the planet’s magical aura.
And now it seemed that the Vanguard had interrupted someone researching the wards, their power, indeed the very fact of their existence. She wondered how much they had learned before being interrupted. Could it have been Medea herself? That might explain her hunger for the Atlas… although even on its own that tome could prove all too dangerous in her hands.
Or maybe it was one of the other intruders currently in the Sanctum… she had a sinking suspicion, for instance, about who the “powerful undead” intruder might be, and if she was right he was at least as dangerous as Medea. She hoped she was wrong, she had no desire to see him again…
Totem took a more methodical approach to the Library, choosing to go through the massive old-fashioned card catalogue that filled one wall of the room’s antechamber. It was not entirely clear to him how it was organized – it certainly wasn’t the Dewey Decimal system he’d learned in recent years at ACU – but the longer he studied it, the more he began to see its patterns, and he could sense the logic of it hovering just beyond his grasp…
As he turned to pull open another card drawer several feet away a motion caught his eye, arresting his attention. On the other side of the antechamber was a small reading table and two comfortable wing chairs, arranged beneath a beautiful Tiffany stained-glass floor lamp. In one of the chairs he saw a semi-translucent vision of himself — older, if the gray at his temples were any indication — sitting and reading from a large, leather bound book. The phantom Cooper was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, both decorated at cuffs and seams with Haida images in colorful embroidery, and a cape he recognized as Arkanos’ old Cape of Levitation was draped over the back of the chair. His mirage-self looked up from his reading and a smile lit his face as another figure approached, carrying a tray with teapot and cups… before he could make out who the newcomer was, beyond a sense of femaleness, the vision vanished, gone like a soap bubble…
Scion, on the mezzanine level of the Great Library, had found his attention quickly riveted by a particularly aged volume, written in ancient Atlantean. He spoke, and read, the modern version of the language, but it was a very conservative tongue and he found himself able to make out much of what the text was saying. It seemed to be a history of the powerful Atlantean metal orichalcum, and included details on its making that he’d been told were long lost, even to today’s mage-scientists of the undersea realm. He’d used the metal as an alloy in the nanobots that comprised his armor, but he’d always been limited by the amount available to him. If he could learn to forge his own supply, though, the possibilities for improving his armor… scenarios began multiplying in his mind as he read…
For a moment his attention was pulled form the book by the spectral vision of a massive brute of a man pushing a book cart past him, pulling books from it and re-shelving them as he went. Although the man’s features were blunt and brutal-looking, the expression on his face seemed relaxed and content, perhaps even happy. He was dressed in slacks, shirt and a sports jacket, but even as Scion wondered where he could’ve found clothes (not to mention the shoes) to fit him, the vision faded away. With a bemused shrug, Scion turned back to his book and the effort to decipher precisely what elements went into the forging of orichalcum…
Both the Blue Flame and Chilz had little trouble resisting the enticements of the Library, instead pulling out books of similar size to line up on a particularly long reading table in the center of the room, spaced a few inches apart to form a winding chain. Once they had them in place, Chilz tapped the first one and the two heroes watched in delight as the domino effect rippled around the table with a steady whump-whump-whump of falling books. As they were gathering the volumes up to try an new arrangement, however, Chilz’ attention was caught by the cover of a collection of stories about the Norse frost giants… it was a lush illustration of a massive crystalline figure that looked very similar to himself, if bluish rather than greenish, towering over the flame-haired and grinning god of mischief, Loki… which figure also looked vaguely familiar, somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, though…
While his friend began flipping though the book on Norse mythology, Jonny was distracted by what he could swear were two Jurassic Park velociraptors (well, Deinonychus, actually – the movie had gotten that bit wrong, he knew) stalking the aisles to their left. But when he tried to flame up to go investigate, he found he simply… couldn’t. The trigger was there, but it was like it was under a thick plastic shield – he could “see” it, but he couldn’t touch the switch to flip it… frustrated, he had the distinct impression that it was the Library itself that did NOT want a man of incendiary plasma lighting up within its confines… its very flammable confines. Speaking of which, was that a copy of next week’s People magazine on that chair? He picked it up and began to leaf through it, amazed at how beyond up-to-date this library was… too bad People didn’t print Lottery results, he could get rich quick, if they did…
As each of the six heroes became engrossed in their chosen reading material, they slipped gradually into a strange, trance-like state. Each remained fully aware of where they were, but they also seemed to be somewhere else entirely. Quanta saw himself in a lab, one he recognized as his personal lab at his family estate in upstate New York. He was manipulating a series of crystals (he knew with certainty that they were kundalini matrix crystals) and was trying to form a gateway. An attempt to extend his quantum tunneling effect, maybe? As he watched a shimmering circle appeared in midair and began to grow… and a massive tentacle, terrifying, slimy, and a glabberous green and yellow, began snaking through it…
Artemis found herself in a forest, or more accurately a temperate rainforest, the massive boles of giant sequoias and redwoods around her, the gray light of late afternoon filtering through the thick green canopy overhead. She was confronting a man she recognized instantly, although she had never yet met him in person, beyond a glimpse on a crowded Manila street over a century past — her father. There was no mistaking that face, those green eyes so like her own, or the red hair. She seemed angry, but he looked amused, and seemed to be trying to placate her…
Totem found himself in a familiar glade, a spot just outside the village where he’d grown to manhood. Through the trees he could see the village itself, and he ran eagerly forward… only to be brought up short in horror. The long houses were all smoldering ruins, not a single one still standing whole. All about the central open area were the hacked and mutilated corpses of his people, so many faces he recognized even in their death agonies…
Scion, wearing what he knew was his own armor, despite it looking considerably different, floated in the dark ocean over the shattered remnants of an Atlantean city. It was not a place he recognized, beyond the style of architecture, certainly not Great Atlantis itself, but it was clearly more than a mere outpost. As he watched, people were streaming up from the broken buildings — clearly refugees fleeing their homes. They swam past him, careful to keep their distance, and more than a few cast glances at him that ranged from fearful to enraged, while mothers shifted their children to shield them from his gaze…
The Blue Flame saw a clearly older version of himself… perhaps in his mid-thirties, it was hard to be sure. This older self was in human form, wearing an expensive-looking suit, and standing over an open casket. He gazed down in obvious grief, although the body within was obscured from his younger self’s view. Arranged behind Older Jonny were a dozen or more hard looking men, all Japanese and dressed in black, like their boss… like ninjas, actually…
Chilz found himself on the roof of the Empire Tower Hotel in uptown Astoria, overlooking a city covered in a massive blanket of snow… no, not snow — ice! And that ice was rising as he watched, engulfing whole buildings, its growth fueled by a 1,000-foot tall ice giant. A giant that was himself he realized, with a thrill of horror, grown to monstrous size and power! The giant Chilz laughed as he drowned the city in ice, a cold, harsh laugh without a trace of warmth or life in it…
One by one the Vanguard either embraced or shook off their visions, gradually coming back to the here-and-now, although the memory of what they’d seen remained clear in their minds. No one chose to speak of what they’d seen to the others, and as they gathered back at the center of the Great Library it was with subdued demeanors.
“Well, I think I’ve learned what I needed to here,” Totem said, breaking the contemplative silence as soon as Blue Flame and Chilz joined the group. “Hopefully we’ve all gained something from the experience. I think we should find that we’re able to continue on beyond the Library now. But let me re-emphasize what Sabra told us: the Sanctum reacts to our thoughts and desires. This goes beyond just guiding us, though — if you can focus your will strongly enough, you can change the very substance of this place. That is, make a room larger, or smaller; change the environment; or rearrange the elements within it.”
Totem’s understanding was quickly proved correct, as the team once again exited the Great Library through the far doors. This time they found themselves in a hallway that did not return them back to the Library. Determined to find the intruders they knew must be ahead of them, they quickly passed through a series of hallways and chambers. They poked their heads into various guest quarters, modest in size but sumptuously decorated, featuring ornate chairs, executive writing desks, lavish beds, and anything else needed to make guests comfortable.
They didn’t linger in the Hall of Champions, an expansive area displaying portraits, busts, and monuments celebrating the Magus’ Prime of earlier eras, such as Contessa Viola Girabaldi and Shilah Atsa, alongside their allies, from Arthurian knights to the Liberty Alliance. Great deeds were recreated through artistic displays, along with replicas of the power-objects used by these worthies in their victories. “No, none of these artifacts are the real thing,” Totem assured an excited Blue Flame when he suggested they arm themselves with magic weapons. “Everything in here are just recreations, I promise.”
Beyond the Hall of Champions lay the Hall of Infamy. Within its wide halls were depicted the most dire threats faced by Magus’ Prime throughout the ages; glowering statues, broken fragments of once-fearsome weapons and armor, weathered records of the evil machinations of powerful foes such as Lilith, Dolórüska, and Varina.
Stumbling across the Pantry, they took a moment to refresh themselves, at Totem’s suggestion. Although modest in size, it was stocked with an incredible array of satisfying refreshments, which the shaman assured his companions would banish fatigue and restore energy. “It also restocks itself as needed, so take what you wish… we may need every edge we can get soon.”
A short time later the group reached what Totem said was the Sanctum’s Artifact Museum. “This is where the real stuff is, Blue Flame,” he said quietly. “It’s the place Roland stored many of his less-volatile artifacts and trophies, the ones that didn’t represent world-ending threats. Those he kept in individual vaults, down in the deep cellars.”
He spoke sotto voce because the heavy set of double doors they faced, down a long hallway, stood wide open, their locks smashed to flinders. The vast room beyond the doors was circular in shape, with alcoves lining the wall and a series of concentric pillars upholding a high, domed ceiling that mimicked the evening sky. Each of the alcoves held a single artifact, illuminated by a hidden light source, ranging from clearly ancient helmets and other bits of armor, to an original 1984 iMac. The rest of the floor space was covered in display cases of varying sizes and shapes, each warded by runes of power and magical locks. The cases contained scores of other artifacts, from weapons like obsidian swords to books bound in demon-hide, and strange instruments of patina-tinged copper to a battered golden helmet worn by an ancient warrior-king.
A quarter of the way around the outer wall from the doors they could see an intruder. Armored in a dark navy-blue exosuit, they had just smashed a small display case, lifting out a 10” stone statuette as the Vanguard entered the Museum. The figure’s grotesque, manta-like head, with huge glowing lenses for eyes, turned just as Artemis hurled her two electrified shadow sticks at it. Moving surprisingly fast for its bulk, the thief twisted away from the first stick, but was struck in the side by the second one.
Damn, Artemis thought as the sticks dissolved again into shadow and flowed back to her, the suit must be insulated.
Quanta had been going to launch his own attack on the strangely armored figure, but he’d caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure flitting from pillar to pillar on the other side fo the chamber, and he aimed a stream of fast-moving bucky balls at where he calculated it would next be exposed. The silvery blast caught the figure full in the chest, sending it flying backward into a large stone sarcophagus-like exhibit with a muffled curse.
As the figure quickly pulled itself back to its feet, Quanta could see that it was a man, moderately tall, dressed in dark trousers, a brilliant white shirt with puffy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a black and red waistcoat, with dark hair and even darker eyes… he found his gaze arrested by those eyes… so dark, so deep… and in the depths was growing a terrible red light… Kyle felt himself falling into those dark, crimson depths… as he fell, he sensed another will, powerful and commanding reaching out for him… he struggled, briefly, but the other mind pinned him like a butterfly to a board… it overrode his own will, and suddenly he was a passenger in his own body…
“My TacComp says the armored intruder is one Carl Mattus,” Scion called out over the comms, “a mercenary who goes by the nom de crime of Blue Manta. He’s wearing an experimental armor he stole two years ago. It’s meant to operate underwater at tremendous depths and pressures, which makes him pretty tough.”
“Yes, he seems immune to electrical attacks,” Artemis confirmed. “But the real threat here is the other intruder. I recognize him — it’s Vlad Dracul, the vampire lord better known as Dracula. He is extremely dangerous, and whatever you do not meet his gaze – his ability to control other minds is very powerful! I don’t recognize the spear he’s holding, but I assume it’s what he was after here in the Sanctum…”
Realizing they might need every advantage in this fight, Totem took a moment to organize his thoughts, and concentrated on what he wanted. He understood the Sanctum well enough to know how it responded to a strong mind and focused will… as he imagined it, so the room began to adapt to his vision… when he opened his eyes, the various display cases were now arrayed in a semi-circle between the heroes and their two foes, who suddenly found themselves relocated to the center of the rotunda.
As soon as he’d heard Artemis’ words, the Blue Flame had let his human form fade away, slipping into his plasma form. His costume changed with him, of course, being made of Q-Lon 7, but Scion and Quanta hadn’t yet figured out a way to let him wear a comm-link — the device vaporized into its component atoms. He shot upward to hover near the domed ceiling and yelled out “radishes” before letting loose a dazzling burst of blue-white light. The code word meant his teammates looked away in time to avoid the blinding flash, but their enemies’ eyes were drawn toward him…
Dracula threw his arms up to shield himself from the sudden light, but quickly realized that, however bright, the light was not sunlight and therefore of no consequence to him. The look on his face, however, at having been made to react, however briefly… if the Blue Flame had possessed blood, it would’ve run cold then. He was very glad he was made of plasma just now, and therefore not likely to be a viable target for the blood-sucker. He was also disappointed, if not surprised, that Blue Manta was unaffected by his flash – he’d learned long ago that armored foes were seldom vulnerable to that particular tactic…
Scion, taking to the air himself, decided it would be best to take out the merely human opponent first, if possible, so that they could concentrate as a team on the much more formidable vampire lord. He focused his Brain Tickler on the armored villain, but even as he released the EM burst into Blue Manta’s head, staggering him, Scion was ordering his own armor to begin reconfiguring his chest emitter’s optical frequencies… Blue Flame’s attempt had given him an idea…
Chilz, after recovering from the initial shock at the idea that they were actually facing Dracula himself (and that Dracula was actually real), quickly moved to form a massive ice cage around the two bad guys in the center of the room. An already dazed Blue Manta found himself surrounded by thick bars of greenish ice, but Dracula moved with shocking speed, for an instant almost a blur, and avoided the trap.
“I see you survived the Van Helsing Institute’s most recent attempt to eradicate you, Vlad,” Artemis said, as she leaped forward to attack, delivering a series of rapid punches to several key nerve junctions that, even in an animated corpse, could cripple. The vampire grunted and staggered back several steps, but he seemed to sense her true goal, and managed to keep his spear out of her grasp.
“Indeed, my dear Artemis,” Dracula said, his voice deep, sensual, and as disturbing to her as ever. “And you don’t look a day older than when last we met… I can see now why my blandishments of eternal youth never swayed you.”
Something in his eyes warned her just in time, and she threw herself aside barely in time to avoid a blast of Quanta’s silvery quantum matter that blew chips out of the marble floor where she’d been crouched. Damn, Vlad must have caught his gaze almost as soon as they’d come in…
But she had no time to worry about her teammate just then, for Dracula had moved as quickly as she, lunging in with the wicked spear he wielded. She’d almost forgotten how fast he could move, and she didn’t quite evade the blow – the spear sliced through the tough fabric of her costume and into the flesh of her left side. Blood spattered as she rolled away, gasping in pain, and she saw the amused, almost bored expression on his face vanish, replaced by one of sudden, overwhelming lust. But it wasn’t the sexual lust they had once shared, however briefly… this was the darker, inhuman lust that had ultimately driven them apart – the blood lust.
Before Dracula could move in to take advantage of her momentary weakness, he found himself surrounded by glowing bands of mystic azure energy. His spear slashed down and through the streamers as they attempted to contract about him, dissipating them into vapor. He turned to see where… ah, there, one of Artemis’ allies, the New World savage.
Obviously a mage of some skill, the vampire lord realized as new azure bonds quickly formed and constricted tightly around him, pinning his arms and leaving Slake unusable for the moment. But he didn’t need the weapon to break these childish bonds… he drew a deep, unnecessary breath, then gave a powerful shrug as he released the power of his own formidable will. The glowing bands shredded like mist in a high wind.
Blue Flame had seen Quanta attack Artemis, and for an instant he’d been shocked into paralysis. Then he’d realized that it must be Dracula’s doing, Artemis had just warned them about his power to control other minds. His dazzling burst might not have any effect on the undead or the armored, but if he didn’t yell the code word… hoping everyone else was looking away, he called Quanta’s name…
Quanta suddenly felt the dark grip holding his will, like he might hold a dog by the scruff, break as a blinding blue light flared in his mind. Shaking his head, he found himself back in control of his own body, even if with half-blinded eyes… from the Blue Flame he realized, and gave his hovering teammate a quick thumbs up. He owed the kid a beer. Damn, if only he could see what the hell was going on around him, he’d flatten that damn vampire in a second…
Scion had little hope that his Brain Tickler would work any better on Dracula than it had on the undead magician Abracadaver, but he needed to keep the creature distracted while Artemis recovered. The wound hadn’t looked mortal, and he knew she healed astonishingly quickly. As expected, the EM blast did nothing but annoy the vampire lord.
It did manage to distract him enough, however, for Chilz to grab the undead bastard from behind and attempt to pin him. But Dracula slid through his arms like the proverbial greased pig, and even as the vampire spun on one foot to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick to Chilz’ stomach he also reached out with his spear, scoring its sharp metal edge along the bars of the ice prison holding Blue Manta.
Chilz focused his own will and sent a blast of polar-vortex-strength cold at Dracula, who just laughed. “Did you really think cold could harm a lord of the undead, you icy imbecile?” he mocked. “I assure you, the cold of the grave is deeper and more enervating than anything you could ever produce.”
In his anger Chilz forgot Artemis’ warning, and he locked gazes with the Lord of Vampires. As he stared into the dark pits of Dracula’s eyes Chuck felt a cold unlike anything he’d ever experienced before… the chill of the grave, he realized. He felt the vampire’s will rising like a dark tide, threatening to overwhelm him… to seize control and turn him against his friends… with a supreme effort Chuck gathered every once of his will and resolve and roared a mental “NO!”
The psychic connection between the two snapped like a frozen wire, and Dracula actually fell back a step in surprise. Before either could renew the battle, however, Blue Manta blasted apart the ice cage that had held him, stepping out and raising the strange idol he held…
Only his powerful armor prevented him from being crushed flat by the ton of solid matter that suddenly materialized over his head. Dracula had again moved at blinding speed to avoid being crushed by the falling mass of Quanta’s attack, and to distance himself from the ice giant.
Artemis checked her side as she crouched down behind a still-intact display case. The bleeding had stopped, of course, and the wound itself was closing. Only a thin red line marked where her flesh had been opened, and that would be gone in another minute. It was time to find something she could use against Vlad; she knew from experience that her shadow abilities alone weren’t going to cut it.
“Artemis, I think you’re the one best qualified to use this,” Totem whispered as he dropped to a knee near her, crowding the scant cover the case provided. In his hand was a long, thin spine of twisted dark metal, its center wrapped in red leather. “According to the placard on the case I took this from, it’s the Lance of Van Helsing, and can incapacitate a vampire just as effectively as an ash stake – just make sure one of the pointy ends goes into him.”
“Yes, thank you, I’m aware of the process. Actually this is just what I was looking for—” Artemis had just taken the javelin from Totem when a dazed and desperate Blue Manta staggered up from the fading rubble of Quanta’s last attack. He held the stolen idol up over his head and mumbled something alien-sounding — a wave of mind-rending terror washed over everyone in line-of-sight of the hideous object.
Totem had been looking at Artemis, and so was unaffected; but she had been looking directly at the armored felon when he unleashed the idol’s power – Totem saw her eyes roll up into her head and barely had time to break her fall as she collapsed, pale, twitching and completely out of it.
Scion, hovering between Dracula and Blue Manta had also looked toward the latter when he called out, but while he felt the wave of horror wash over him, it was attenuated and mostly ineffectual. He was momentarily chilled, but he suspected the properties of his orichalcum alloy armor had protected him from the brunt of the psychic attack.
Both Blue Flame and Quanta were farther away, but unshielded, and they felt a stronger effect of the dark emotional wave. They were momentarily frozen in place, riveted by the terror and horror of their greatest fears suddenly overwhelming their minds. Chilz, his full attention locked on Dracula, hadn’t even heard Blue Manta speak, and so, like Totem, had avoided the attack altogether.
Dracula, unaffected by the spell himself, naturally, seized the heroes’ momentary distraction to grab a large stone head, something Olmec-looking he rather thought, and hurl it up at the armored human, scoring a direct hit. As soon as he’d released the stone, Dracula turned his attention to the next threat, the New World savage standing between him and the fallen Artemis.
Locking eyes with the shaman, he sent the full force of his will out to seize the mortal’s mind. With a mage under his control he could end this battle quickly— the vampire reeled back, as stunned as if he’d struck a wall of stone, and Slake slipped from his grip to clatter to the stones at his feet.
The human had repelled him, utterly! How was such a thing possible?! Ah, he saw it then, a slim circlet of silver on the man’s brow. He recognized it from centuries past, an amulet of some power, designed to shield its wearer from almost any form of possession or mental control. The Sisterhood of Morgana had once used it against him, to annoying effect, back in the 17th Century, he recalled; the Magus Prime must have been housing it in this museum of his, and the lucky fool had stumbled upon it amongst the wreckage.
And if he had found that, no telling what else might be laying about to hand for these insipid do-gooders to pick up and use against him. As much as he lusted to again taste the bewitching Artemis’ blood, it was time to quit this place. He’d got what he’d come for… this on-going contretemps was now mere vanity on his part. With Slake in his possession once more, he would be free to walk the sunlit world again, in all his vampiric power. He stepped forward, toward the fallen spear… and screamed as the sun bloomed suddenly above him.
Scion had nearly been knocked out of the air by the large stone head Dracula had hurled at him, but had somehow managed to right himself, and even managed to hold onto the artifact long enough to set it down again, relatively undamaged. No telling how valuable it was, but if it was here, he assumed it must be important. As he took to the air again his internal computer pinged – the alterations to the main emitter were complete!
Looking around, he saw that the vampire lord had somehow lost the great spear he’d been carrying throughout the fight. Scion had no idea what powers the weapon might have, but if Dracula had broken into this place to obtain it, it was probably best he not be allowed to re-acquire it. With a flick of an eye he triggered his chest emitter, and a wide spectrum flare of pure sunlight flooded the room, the pillars casting dark shadows away from him in all directions.
Several things happened at once, then. Dracula screamed in pain, and only his preternatural speed allowed him to take shelter in the shadow of one of the rooms large pillars before he burst entirely into flame… but without his spear. At the same time the Blue Flame, recovered from his momentary bout of terror, had unleashed a barrage of plasma bolts at Blue Manta. The flames didn’t seem to faze the villain overmuch, but they did manage to knock the stone idol from his hand, sending it spinning away across the marble floor. The man’s scream of anguish had been almost as unnerving as Dracula’s.
Chilz, who had taken to heart Totem’s lesson on how the Sanctum would respond to a strong will, had been concentrating, having an idea similar to Scions. Now he unleashed his gathered will, and the domed ceiling of the Museum became suddenly transparent. Unfortunately, there was no sun shining through… only a roiling void of violet light.
Well damn! But Chilz had no time to dwell on his disappointment, as he saw his friend knock the stone statue from Blue Manta’s hand. The armored mercenary was scrambling after it, clearly desperate to recover his lost toy. I don’t think so pal… suddenly, hailstones the size of large marbles filled the air over the villain to rain down on him in almost deafening cacophony of ice on metal and stone.
The hail did nothing much in the way of damage, given all that armor, but it did quickly cover the floor for several yards around, turning it into a slick, treacherous surface. Blue Manta slipped, fell hard, scrambled to regain his footing, almost made it, only to slam into the floor once more. Then he was scrambling, crab-like, on hands and knees… he almost reached the idol, but his gloved hand hit it and it shot away at a 45° angle… he cursed and scrambled after it…
Above it all, Scion was focused on moving his sunlight emitter to deny Dracula any shadow to hide in, and the vampire was moving desperately to keep the pillar between himself and the deadly light… and to position himself to retrieve the spear he’d been forced to abandon, Scion saw.
He also saw what the Lord of Vampires, in his pain, fear and desperate calculation failed to see – Artemis, rising like a living wraith from the very shadow in which he hid, a long javelin in her hand. At the last instant some uncanny instinct must have warned him, for Dracula turned — but too late. With all her considerable strength Artemis drove the Lance of Van Helsing into his chest and out his back. With a strangled gasp the vampire’s whole body seemed gripped in a terrible rictus, and then he went limp, collapsing to the cold marble floor, unmoving, even more dead than usual.
As Dracula fell, Quanta, Totem and the Blue Flame were all attempting to grapple with and subdue Blue Manta, who scrambled almost mindlessly after his lost artifact. But the hail-slicked floor left them at almost as much a disadvantage as their foe. The icy surface was no hinderance to Chilz, however, who strode forward, grabbed the mercenary by the armored hoses at the back of his helmet and hauled him up… to deliver a roundhouse punch that cracked the ceramic-metal eye-lenses of the faceplate and left the villain limp in his grip.
“We need to deal with Dracula,” Artemis said to Scion and Totem. “Quanta, you three get Blue Manta out of that armor and restrained as quickly as possible. ”
“Wait, isn’t the vampire dead?” the Blue Flame asked, reverting to his human form. “What’s to deal with?”
“He is merely incapacitated,” Artemis said over her shoulder as she and the others strode away. “That spear can take even Dracula down, true, but once it’s removed he’ll reanimate all too quickly. Fortunately, I see something we can use to prevent that …”
While she, Scion and Totem lifted the ancient vampire and lowered him into the mystical sarcophagus that would hold him as long as its seals remained unbroken, careful not to dislodge the Lance of Van Helsing which impaled him, the others began pulling apart the armor from a groggy but slowly reviving Carl Mattus.
“No, please,” the man gasped as he regained enough awareness to realize what was happening. “You have to let me have that idol, for God’s sake! Please, it’s the only thing that can stop my transformation… and with the right help, break this curse completely… please…”
Quanta paused as he pulled the shattered helmet off their captive and got a good look at the man’s face. His gray eyes were disturbingly large and bulged grotesquely, his skin was slightly translucent, with a tinge of green and just a hint of scales, and his mouth was unnervingly wide. Only his lank, dirty blond hair looked relatively normal. In fact, the man looked uncannily like many of the residents of small Massachusetts costal town Kyle had once met during his time at MIT.
“Are you from Massachusetts, by any chance?” he asked as Chilz pulled apart the chest and back panels of the armor, and Blue Flame tugged off the first of the boots.
“What? No, I’m from Van Nuys… please, listen! You have to believe me, I didn’t look anything like this four months ago… and it’s getting worse! Look, check out my wallet, it’s in a compartment in the chest piece…”
Chilz laughed as he felt around and pulled out a ratty leather wallet. “You carry your ID with you when you’re out committing super-villainy?”
Sliding out the California driver’s license, he glanced at it and raised an icy eyebrow as he handed it to Quanta. The man in the picture looked very different from the one sitting hunched over on the floor before them – the picture showed a good-looking man, with blue eyes, curly golden hair, an insouciant grin, and a healthy tan. Quanta could nevertheless recognize him beneath the current distortions of his body. As they stripped the last of the stolen armor from Mattus he saw those distortions included slightly webbed fingers and even more pronounced webbing between the toes.
“OK, I can see you’ve been going through some changes,” Quanta said, crouching down in front of the prisoner. “So tell us what’s happening to you.”
“It was just after the new year, I was diving in some ruins, in the South Pacific. Treasure hunting. I’d heard there was some stuff down there that collectors would pay big bucks for, ancient stuff…”
“You went into one of the Lemurian interdiction zones?” Quanta asked. “There’s a reason the UN has sealed off those places, you know. The “treasure” there is almost always incredibly dangerous. But I guess you learned that the hard way.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Mattus said, tears welling in his enormous, distorted eyes. “Anyway, there was this ruined… temple, I guess… I eventually learned it belonged to some horrible demon-god named Dagon… anyway, I took a huge ruby from a statue there, I guess it was of this Dagon… looked sorta like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, but worse… and a few weeks after I got home, I started to… change. It was little stuff at first… a skin rash, an aching jaw, like that… then the changes began to come faster… when I realized what was happening, I… I tried to reverse it… I even returned the ruby to the ruins… but I just kept changing, getting more and more like that Dagon thing…”
“So how did that lead you breaking in here?” Chilz asked, beginning to almost feel sorry for the poor mope.
“I have… contacts… I’d been doing a lot of research on this Dagon, and the Serpent People, and all that shit I used to think was bull, trying to find a cure… I read about this idol, called the Soulbinder, which was made by these dudes a long time ago, who opposed Dagon and its cult. Just holding the idol would stop the transformation — and it was working, I could feel the changes in me stop while I held it — but a real wizard-type could use it to actually reverse the damn curse! To make me human again!
“I had no idea where to find a wizard or witch or whatever, even if I could find the idol, about which I had no fuckin’ clue. But then I had this strange dream… I’ve been having a lot of strange dreams, about the ocean and these horrible… no, it doesn’t matter… this dream was different… this little kid, looked like some little Lord Fauntleroy, came to me and told me about a lady who could help me, a sorceress named Medea. He told me where to find her… well, I woke up and the memory of the dream didn’t fade, like they usually do, so I figured what the hell, what the fuck do I got to lose?
“Medea was right were the dream kid told me she’d be, and she seemed to be expecting me. That was yesterday, and today, well… you know the rest, I guess. Now please, give me back the Soulbinder… I can already feel the change beginning again… for God’s sake, please!”
“Given what you were able to do with that idol, I don’t see that happening Carl,” Artemis said. She and the others had finished sealing Dracula into his new tomb and rejoined their teammates to hear the bulk of Mattus’ tale. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to just leave you to your fate. There are others in the world familiar with this sort of thing, and I promise we’ll do our best to help you find a cure. But for now we have more pressing issues to deal with, including your friend Medea. Any idea where she was heading?”
“No! You have to give me the idol, I swear I don’t know how I did that thing with it! Look, Medea swore that she was the only one who could fix me, please, let her try!” Mattus lunged to his feet, but Artemis was faster, and had slapped a Sleeper Pack on the back of his neck before he was halfway up. “Nooooo….” he moaned, before his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed like a rag doll.
“OK, he’ll be out for at least six hours,” Artemis said as she bound his wrists and ankles with zip ties from her utility belt. “We’ll take his stolen armor just in case, though. Chilz, if you’ll carry it, we can stash it in another room as we continue.”
The Vanguard left the Museum by the same door they’d entered it, but now found themselves in an entirely different hallway. Unlike most of the passageways they’d traversed so far, this one was of simpler design, with white plaster walls instead of ornate wainscoting, and simple pine flooring in place of the usual elaborate parquetry. The walls were lined with mirrors on either side, mirrors of every conceivable size, shape and design. After several minutes they came across a single door, plain and utilitarian, which opened into a smallish utility closet. Chilz dropped the Blue Manta armor within, and the group continued down the hallway.
Almost too subtly to notice, the details of the mirror-lined hallway began drifting into simpler and simpler forms. Eventually only the mirrors remained, floating motionless in a white void, still forming a notional corridor about 10 feet wide. Everything else—walls, floor, ceiling—seemed entirely absent as far ahead as they could see. Turning around, Blue Flame saw the same view behind, and no hint of the hallway they’d started in.
“OK, this is freaking me out,” he said, feeling suddenly and inexplicably claustrophobic. “Where are we, and how the heck do we get outta here?”
“I think I know where we are,” Totem said slowly, examining one of the mirrors to his left. There was something a little off about his reflection, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Roland mentioned something like this to Sabra and I once. I think this is a sort of… backstage area of the Sanctum, a conduit of sorts. It links all of communication and scrying devices throughout the house, and across the world, even other dimensions and planes in some cases. Like this Cheval Eye, I took from Devaj.” He touched the small scrying mirror he’d tucked into his belt.
“Normally this sort of “crawl space” of the mansion would be very difficult to access, especially for visitors. But with no strong governing will for so long, I suspect things are breaking down here, just like with the exterior warding spells.”
“Great, but how do we get out of this “crawl space?” the Blue Flame repeated. “Look, if we just head in one direction, at some point we have to hit a wall, right?” Before Totem could answer he darted between two mirrors to the right and stalked off at right angles to the “corridor” formed by the mirrors. Scion moved to stop him, but Totem shook his head.
“Let him go, it will be easier than trying to explain it to him. Give it a minute.”
As his friends watched the Blue Flame grew smaller and smaller before vanishing into the whiteness of the void. A minute later they heard him swearing in frustration… from behind them. Turning, they saw their teammate walking toward them from beyond the row of mirrors on the left, looking more than a little unnerved.
“The physics, and geometry, of the mundane world don’t hold here,” Totem said, smiling as Blue Flame rejoined them. “The only way out is forward. The house isn’t actually sentient, but it is aware, and it both knows us as friends, and knows what we seek. If it let us in here, it’s for a reason, and I suspect it will eventually take us to where we need to be.”
The heroes continued to walk down the notional corridor, and as they went they began to notice that the mirrors were no longer reflecting images of themselves, exactly. Instead they showed a myriad of variations – in some mirrors the Vanguard simply wore slightly different costumes: Artemis in a blood red cloak and hood, Scion in armor of black and blue, Quanta in a variety of silvery-gray quantum shells, ranging from a medieval knight to a high-tech ninja to a cyborg.
In other mirrors there were other members on the team, sometimes adding to the roster, other times replacing one or more of the existing members; most often Phantom Ace, Prometheus, Dr. Froth and 10 appeared, but there were also variations that included several heroes from the Liberty Alliance and even a few villains, such as Sky Pirate and the Ocelot.
Yet other mirrors showed the Vanguard with altogether different powers – Chuck as a giant of orange flame or as a muscled red-headed Viking wielding a massive hammer; Jonny as a being of living electricity, or living rock, or organic metal; Totem in a variety of Avatar forms, from hummingbird to elk, and once as a woman. In that mirror all of the Vanguard were gender-swapped, in fact, to the amusement of some and the discomfort of others.
Despite the almost overwhelming temptation to linger at this or that mirror, to try and figure out what changes had led to the variations they saw, the team remained focused on their goal and didn’t stop. In time this brought them to a cul-de-sac in the mirror road. The glasses on either side, which had been growing steadily larger and more alike for several minutes, turned outward, arcing around to meet 20 feet ahead and forming a perfect circle around a wide, empty white space. Unlike the corridor mirrors, these were all of a uniform size, tall and wide, set in glittering frames of dark crystal. They also differed in showing not the Vanguard’s reflections, either actual or potential, but instead revealing images of what seemed to be whole alternate worlds and histories.
They still saw variations of themselves, often enough, but not as mere reflections of this moment – rather they saw these alternate versions in situations both familiar and alien. They saw themselves fighting on the day of the Astoria Incident, but instead of a disco ball of glittering kundalini crystals there was a cloud of silvery energy, unleashing an argent storm on a city that was almost, but not quite Astoria; they saw a world where they failed to stop Nemesis from unleashing his crystalline plague worldwide, and saw the global chaos that resulted, with millions dead and billions more with a bewildering variety of super powers set loose in a world-shattering free-for-all; a reality where they had refused to retreat through the Stargate from the capital world of the ConfederatedUnion of Worlds, and perished in its defense, leaving their own world open to destruction; a world where the Protectorate of Counter-Earth invaded their own, leading to a prolonged war; and a dozen other histories and worlds, some hauntingly familiar, others utterly unrecognizable.
Interspersed with these scenes of larger worlds where images of corridors, many obviously within the Sanctum or variations of the Sanctum. But even the ones that seemed to look like the Sanctum they knew, on closer examination, showed minor variations of detail. Combined with the fact that the images shifted and changed from mirror to mirror with bewildering rapidity, it left the Vanguard confused and uncertain of their next move.
“I’m getting sensor readings from beyond these “frames” or whatever they are,” Scion reported. “I think these are not simply reflections of alternate possibilities, but actual dimensional portals. If we were to step through one, it’s very likely we’d end up in some other world.”
“Or where we need to be in our own,” Totem said. “The problem is figuring out which of these is our world. Scion, after our trip through the multiverse two years ago you developed a way to measure the variations in string vibrations that mark individual realities, yes? Can you scan these portals, see if you can locate the right frequency?”
“I can, sure, but they shift so quickly… by the time I can get a lock, assuming I can get a lock, on the right one there’d barely be time to make it through. And we won’t get more than two people through at a time.” Scion glanced up at Chilz and then at the mirror gates. “And Chilz will have to go through alone, in any case.”
“Fine, why don’t I make the first try then, if you can tell me when to jump,” the ice giant said. “If I make it, I’ll be like a marker as the views go ‘round – you won’t have to scan every time, just look for the corridor where I am, right?”
Agreeing that it might just work, Scion began scanning the portals. It took a few minutes, and as he worked several of the others noticed an indistinct figure, fleetingly visible among the mirrors every now and agin. They all noticed the low, almost subliminal voice murmuring “PossiBiLitieS. sO. MAnY. POssiBILiTIEs” as the figure flickered in and out of the various mirrors.
“I have no idea what that is,” Scion said, after about the fifth repetition of the phenomena. “But I’ve got a lock on the proper frequency now. Chilz, stand in front of this one, and when I give you the signal, go. It’s going to be close, my scanners just can’t get a complete reading fast enough, but I’ve compensated as much — GO!”
Chilz started at the abrupt command, then jumped forward through the mirror portal in front of him, into what looked like a familiar corridor in the SanctumPrimus. But even as leaped the image shifted… for just an instant he stood in a corridor almost, but not quite, identical to the one he knew. And then it felt like he was being turned inside out and shoved backward at the speed of light at the same time… and he was back in the white void of the Mirror Mosaic. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his spinning head and wondering what would come up if he vomited in his ice form… crushed ice?
“Sorry, Chilz,” Scion said apologetically, helping his friend back to his feet. “The timing is just so damn tricky… we missed it by a fraction of a second. Apparently there’s some sort of safeguard on these portals, though, it won’t let us stay in the “wrong” reality. Which is good, really. How are —“
A hissing voice interrupted him, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “We. CaN. hElP. HeLp. YOu. GeT OUT. HElp uS. ExiT. As wELl.” A blurred, fractured outline of a humanoid figure stood in the nearest gate, never coming entirely into focus, constantly shifting, like an image seen in a fractured mirror or a kaleidoscope. It spoke in halting, clear tones, but with odd changes in pitch and rythym. Blue Flame thought it sounded like a verbal ransom note, each word taken from a different recording, of different people, then cut together to make sentences.
It took several minutes of back and forth with the strange creature to work out some idea of what it was and what it wanted. It seemed to call itself Glimpse, and claimed to be something called a chronozoid – a being from outside normal space-time. It had been a scientist-artist-explorer in its world — it had been hard to pin that part down with any certainty — and had been trying to understand linear time, probability and branching in linear timelines. In its attempt at understanding it had become trapped in this Mirror Mosaic… in what sounded like some sort of strange industrial accident.
They had learned all too much about linear time then, as it took it years to understand three-dimensional beings well enough to even begin to communicate with them. Eventually they were able to make contact with the Magus Prime, and Roland had helped them learn much of what they sought. They could have left then, with thier new friend’s help, but chose to stay for awhile longer, to learn more. But when Roland Reid had died unexpectedly, they had been once again trapped in the Mirror Mosaic.
Now, with their help, the entity had the chance to return to its own plane. In exchange for that help, they claimed they could guide the Vanguard back to their own branch of reality… to “thE rEal-ReAl.”
“pLucK. mIrrOr wiTh… Glimpse iN. MaRch. THrouGh aNy… pOrtaL—Glimpse gUide – hoMe.”
“Well, it’s gotta be better than going through hitting the wrong reality again,” Chilz said, once the entity’s offer was clear. “That “safeguard” of yours, Scion, hurts like a son-of-bitch… so unless you can promise you can get us through the right one, I say we take old Glimpse here up on his offer.”
There was some debate about the wisdom of freeing something held in the SanctumPrimus, even if it had a good story; but in the end everyone agreed, if the story was true, that it would be cruel to leave the being trapped. “I sense no malice in the creature,” Artemis summed it up for them all. “And if it proves to be a mistake, we’ll deal with it, as we always do. But time is wasting…”
The blurry, static-like figure of Glimpse shifted to one of the nearer mirrors back in the long corridor, and Chilz lifted it off the invisible “wall” where it hung, tucking it under his arm and stepping up to the portal/mirror they’d chosen. The strange alien proved as good as its word. The Vanguard found themselves back in what looked very much like a corridor in the Sanctum, which Scion confirmed with a scan of the vibrational frequencies.
Chilz and his passenger were the last ones through the portal, and as he stepped into the hallway the mirror under his arm shattered into sparkling powder, freeing the chronozoid instantly. The Glimpse, in the three-dimensional world, was an oddly-angled, only occasionally humanoid, silhouette composed of flickering colors, despite which it’s relief and joy were obvious.
It turned to look at its rescuers, and then waved a “limb” over the only six fragments of the shattered mirror that were larger than dust.
“uSe these. PrObaBility… sHarDs — OnCe. ShoW truTh. To seLf… ThEn show trUth. To anOtheRs.” With a final wave the entity dissolved into a swirl of light-motes before vanishing without trace.
“Huh. One for each of us,” Chilz said, picking up the six shards. As he looked at them he could see faint, translucent images flickering in each one… images of alternate realities and alternate versions of himself. He hastily handed them over to Artemis, who tucked them into a reinforced pouch at the back of her utility belt.
“I have no idea what these things do,” she said. “But now is not the time to find out. Once we’ve resolved the current crisis I think Scion and Quanta… and maybe Totem… will be the best ones to examine them and discover their purpose… and determine if they’re safe.”
No one disagreed, and after a very few minutes more of hallway walking the Vanguard found themselves standing before a pair of immense verdigris-stained bronze doors. One of them stood slightly ajar, and Artemis motioned Totem forward.
“If memory serves me, we’re at the Observatory, yes?” she whispered.
The shaman nodded. “Which is where we’re likely to find the Atlas… and Medea.”
The heroes passed cautiously and quietly through the half-opened door, to find themselves standing on a grassy, windswept hillside, under a cloudless night sky ablaze with stars. Nearby stood a large, archaic-looking stone platform, thirty feet high and 100 feet across—to all appearances an ancient open-air observatory. A stairway directly ahead looked to be the only way to the top, where stone columns formed concentric rings. While the surface of the platform wasn’t visible from this angle, a black-haired woman in Greek dress could be seen dancing high above it, the pillars of stone rising and falling to meet her feet with every step. In her hands was a large book of circular brass pages, bound in gold-embossed black leather… almost certainly the Atlas of Eternity.
“Whatever it looks like, we’re still within a room of the Sanctum,” Artemis said sotto voce before teleporting from the shadows near the entryway to a shadowed area amongst the pillars atop the Observatory. On this side the bronze doors appeared to be set in a freestanding stone arch on the hillside. The rest of the team slowly made their way forward and up the stairs, hoping to take the sorceress, and her hulking minion, by surprise.
Unfortunately her pet monster, the massive supernatural entity known as the Revenant, was sitting at the edge of a shallow reflecting pool at the center of the platform, and happened to be looking straight at the heroes as they reached the top of the stairs. He leapt to his feet with shocking speed, bellowing out a roar of challenge… and alerting his mistress.
Medea had seemed to be in a transport of joy, dancing as she was from pillar to pillar, each one changing size and position, as did the very stones of the platform, to meet her. As she danced she sang to herself and turned the pages of her new prize, devouring the information within. But Revenant’s warning snapped her out of her reverie in an instant, and she glared down at the intruders.
“Oh-ho, what’s this? Unannounced visitors in my new home? You children these days can be so rude. And you know what I do to children. But I suppose I might find it in my heart to forgive you your trespasses… if you’re here to worship me. No? Ah, well then – Revenant, be a dear and eject these heretics from your goddess’s hou—”
She was cut off suddenly as two batons of solid shadow struck her from behind, nearly knocking her from her perch a top a pillar and momentarily staggering her. She whirled in a fury to see from whence the attack had come… there, in the shadows between two pillars, a cloaked and hooded woman! With a muttered phrase in Greek, she gestured and crimson bolts of mystical energy shot out from her hands to engulf the presumptuous fool.
Artemis staggered back, feeling the arcane energies sapping her strength and clouding her mind. She fell back into shadow and teleported away, needing a moment to recover… and no point in making it easy for the ancient witch by staying in the same spot, not when there were so many shadows about…
At the same time Scion let loose on the Revenant with a stream of fully amped-up electro bolts. He’d never actually encountered the creature before, but he’d certainly heard of him. Once human, over a century earlier he had been murdered in the swamps outside New Atlantis, his body left to rot by his killers. But something had revived his corpse, if not the mind that had once animated it. Since then the dim-witted but almost infinitely strong Revenant had wandered the swampy wildernesses of the East Coast, mostly, an easily manipulated pawn of those with more brains and the will to use him.
Such attempts often didn’t end well for the would-be manipulators, but that never seemed to stop them from trying, the creature was that physically powerful. Which Scion noted now first-hand, as the pale-skinned behemoth, in his ill-fitting, rotting clothes, shrugged off his attack like it was no more than an irritating cloud of mosquitos.
Quanta took the opportunity, as the monster turned to go after Scion, to drop a block of solid quantum matter on it. The Revenant hunched its shoulders and batted it away, shattering the heavy block as if it had been made of styrofoam. Quanta realized this might be a little tougher fight than he’d first thought…
From his own spot in the shadows Totem watched Artemis’ attack and Medea’s return fire, and as the sorceress scanned the area searching for her vanished target, he cast his spell of the Sleeping Mists over her. Green flecks of glowing energy gently rained down… and Medea barely acknowledged them, simply waving them out of existence with one hand.
Chilz and Blue Flame had exchanged a few quick words as their teammates attacked, and now the latter send a plasma bolt into the pool of water the Revenant was wading through, in its attempt to reach Scion. Clouds of steam billowed up, obscuring the creature, but a bellowing roar indicated it was no more than annoyed, at best.
A dark shape flew out of the concealing mist, an enormous chunk of stone ripped from the platform. It hit Scion full in the chest, sending the armored hero tumbling backward, stunned and fighting to regain control as his systems blared alerts at him. Damn, the second time today I’ve been hit like this!
Before the Revenant itself could emerge from the cloud, however, Chilz was cooling, condensing and freezing it around the monster. In an instant the beast was flash-frozen, a dark shape barely visible in the starlight, deep within an icy prison.
With the main physical threat taken care of, at least for the moment, Scion turned his attention to Medea, sending a jolt of his Brain Zap attack into her head as she waved away Totem’s usually more effective green mist. Unfortunately his attack seemed to bother her no more than his teammate’s had.
Quanta also turned his attention to the supposed immortal sorceress, once again dropping a block of heavy matter from overhead… Medea was certainly more squish-able than that hulking brute had been. As she seemed fully aware, abandoning dignity to leap aside to another pillar, barely evading the attack, and actually dazed by a glancing blow.
Totem took advantage of her momentary distraction to cast a spell of Azure Bonds on her as she landed on the new pillar. But even distracted and bruised she shrugged off the eldrict bands, and did so with more apparent ease than had Dracula. As a mage she might well be more powerful than he was, he realized… was it time to call up an Avatar? Raven, perhaps…
As if to emphasize the woman’s power, an instant after breaking his spell of binding she was engulfed in one of Blue Flame’s plasma attacks… only to emerge unscathed as the flames faded away. But before Totem could begin his summoning Medea turned her attention to him. He felt the power and the weight of her curse hit him like a tsunami of heat. He staggered back, falling to his knees as he fought with all his considerable will not to change… it was a spell of shape shifting, and he could feel his body trying to change, to take the form she willed for him… the form of a pig…
As Totem struggled to ward off the effects of the curse, the block of ice holding the Revenant suddenly shattered, sending shards of flying ice like lethal daggers across the Observatory. Fortunately Scion, Quanta and Chilz were immune, variously, to such damage, and the shards vaporized before they could touch the Blue Flame. But the monster was free again, and it seemed really pissed…
Chilz, who was closest as the Revenant stomped out of the shattered remains of the reflecting pool, jumped forward, aiming a roundhouse punch at its head – the best defense was a strong offense, right? The creature dodged with surprising speed… the thing was a foot taller than him and probably twice as bulky, but moved at least as fast as he did. Chilz barely dodged the creature’s return punch…
Artemis, her amazing regenerative powers having shaken off the lingering effects of Medea’s mystical attack, teleported into the shadows atop a pillar directly behind the Greek sorceress as she focused on cursing Totem. With her attention diverted, Artemis leaped across the gap, aiming a blow at her opponent’s back. But some uncanny sixth sense warned Medea, and she ducked and whirled away… never realizing that she had never really been the target. As Artemis spun over her foe she reached out and snatched the Atlas of Eternity from her grasp, and dropped to the ground.
With a scream of rage, Medea prepared to follow, only to sense another attack… she narrowly dodged one stream of silvery spheres, only to turn directly into the second stream. Hitting her in the gut, the attack doubled her over, and she fell from her pillar, the wind knocked out of her. Nevertheless the Observatory reacted to her will, and another pillar rose up to catch her.
Before the sorceress could recover, however, the Blue Flame unleashed another plasma blast. The azure fire again engulfed her, and she again emerged unharmed… but that first blast had been a feint as the hero gathered all of his energy and let loose with his Nova Blast, something he had only ever used twice before. This time the heat of a star overwhelmed even Medea’s mystical shields, and she plunged off the pillar to slam into the stone of the platform, singed, battered and unconscious.
The Blue Flame flickered, dropped to the ground himself, and reverted to human form, barely conscious himself.
Scion turned his Brain Zap on the Revenant as Medea fell… as he expected, it had no effect, beyond distracting the simple-minded creature at the critical moment. It was clearly loyal to the Greek woman, but also easily distracted. If Artemis could secure the sorceress and get her out of sight before the creature noticed, perhaps it could be talked down…
The records showed that the Revenant seemed primarily to wish to be left alone. It, he, tended to avoid populated areas if left to his own devices, and only turned violent if attacked or thwarted. He was generally only a problem when he came under the influence of others, who had the wit he lacked and could manipulate his simple desires to further their own.
Any one of the Vanguard were smarter than this poor guy, surely together they could calm him down and convince him they didn’t want to fight, and were wiling to send him home in peace. As it turned out, Scion was right. It took awhile, and ultimately it was the return of Artemis, after she’d left Medea under Totem’s guard outside the Observatory, that cinched the deal. Apparently the brute liked pretty women who were nice to him.
Eventually they had him sitting again on the edge of the ruined reflecting pool, talking in his halting way about his home in the swamp and how he missed it… although this was a nice place too, when he didn’t have to fight. Which gave Scion a sudden idea…
He had seen this creature in one of the visions the Great Library had shown him earlier, a calmer, more intelligent, and happier version it had seemed to him, shelving books and seemingly at home while doing so. Had that been an alternate world, like those they’d seen in the Mirror Mosaic, or a possible future? Scion also considered the strange words of the chronozoid, Glimpse, when it had gifted them with what it had called Probability Shards…
“Artemis, can I see one of those mirror shards the Glimpse gave us?” Artemis looked surprised, but pulled the fragments from where she’d stashed them and handed one over.
Looking into the shard’s shiny surface, Scion saw the flickering images of scenes from a dozen different worlds and different Scions, coming and going. While the others, including the Revenant, looked on in curiosity he focused his mind on the image he recalled from the Library… the Revenant, in proper clothes, working in the Great Library, looking peaceful and happy… and as he focused, the scene appeared in the shard itself and then the shifting images stopped, locked onto this singular reality.
“Here my friend,” Scion said, handing the piece of mirror to the hulking figure. “Look into this. Do you like what you see? How does it make you feel?”
Revenant’s face softened as he watched the tiny image of himself, and he nodded. “Good…Revenant liked books once… he thinks… Revenant don’t remember much, from the before… but books is nice…” As he continued to gaze into the Shard the glass began to glow, and in seconds the glow had enveloped his entire body. It lasted only a few seconds, and when it faded the mirror fragment broke into sparkling motes and vanished. Sitting in the old Revenant’s place was… someone new.
He looked exactly like the Revenant they’d fought, including the ragged clothes he wore… but there was some subtle change in the way he held his features. And his eyes held an intelligence they’d not held a moment earlier. He looked around at the Vanguard, and smiled. “I remember now… I was… Cyril, once. But that was a very long time ago… I was in a fog for so long… I don’t remember much… but there’s a library, isn’t there?”
“There is,” Artemis assured him. “Let’s see if we can find you some better clothes, and then we can talk about your future.”
As the Vanguard and their new friend made their way down the Observatory’s steps to the doors, something in the shadow of a pillar caught Scion’s eye. Bending down, he picked up a stuffed bear that had been propped up against the pillar. Odd place for a toy… he shrugged and followed the others. He’d give it to Devaj, once he was recovered, no doubt it was his, or maybe his husbands…
• • • • • •
Back in the main foyer, a still pale Devaj was recovered enough to at least stand, if shakily, and offer his hand to the Sanctum’s new librarian. “I shall be pleased to undertake getting him settled in,” he assured the heroes. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, and it will be nice to have some company around the place… it’s been so quiet, since…”
He trailed off and let Totem help him back to a chair. Before anyone could do more than murmur a few words of concern the front doors suddenly began to open, apparently of their own accord. But instead of the gray light of a rainy Astoria day, it was the flickering yellow warmth of torchlight that poured through the doorway, framing a dark figure.
Stepping forward into the foyer, it proved to be a man in well-used high-tech piece-work armor. Jonny thought he looked like nothing so much as a Star Wars stormtrooper who’d seen some action – except for the skull-like mask covering his face. That was definitely more Skeletor…
The Gaoler
“Greetings, Vanguard! I am the Gaoler, and I am here to take custody of your prisoners.” Even through the electronic filtering of his mask, the English accent came through. He stood at ease, no weapon in hand, although he carried several on his person, and waited for a response from the startled heroes.
“Yes, we’ve heard of you,” Scion said, stepping forward. “Thomas Delosano, former architect, famed for designing some of the most secure prisons on the planet – until you went rogue and started acting as a vigilante, imprisoning anyone whom you felt deserved it.”
“And you have recently demonstrated some sort of meta-powers,” Artemis added. “You claim to have access to some sort of extra-dimensional prison, yes?”
“That is correct,” the Gaoler nodded. “I call it the Cell Block, and it is where I hold those prisoners which the ineffective prisons of Earth have failed, all too often, to contain. There is no revolving door into and out of my custody!”
“Well, whatever anyone’s feelings about the justice system, we are not going to be handing over any prisoners to you, Mr. Delosano,” Scion said firmly. “We are not vigilantes, after all, but sworn Federal Marshals, and we uphold the law. It’s for the courts to decide guilt… and any punishments deemed appropriate.”
“Bah, the courts! The West has become weak and permissive, and even when they convict these criminals,” he gestured in disgust at Medea, still unconscious, the Revenant and Carl Mattus, the latter looking miserable in his restraints, “they cannot keep them incarcerated for long. How long do you think it will be before all those you defeated today are back on the streets, committing crimes at will? Either because of molly-coddling courts or ineffective prisons?”
“In the case of two for them, it is unlikely,” Artemis said cooly. “Cyril has had a… transformative experience today, and he will not be causing the world any more problems, I assure you. And Mr. Mattus needs seriously medical care for a condition that is quickly killing him… care I doubt your “Cell Block” is capable of providing.”
“Imprisonment is for punishment, not hospital care. But I see you are adamant in your refusal to turn over the prisoners to me?” Gaoler shook his head in disgust. “I’d had hopes for you new so-called heroes, but I see you’re little different from any of the Alliance bleeding hearts. So be it. I have already taken and incarcerated the other felons you subdued outside… let the future crimes of these three be on your heads, then.
“Unless you propose to take me into custody as well?” His hand strayed near the weapons at his hip, and his head tilted in curiosity.
“You are not our priority today, Gaoler,” Scion said. He would, in fact, have loved to bring in this nut job, but the situation was not ideal. They had little idea of his relatively new meta-human powers, the team was already exhausted after a string of battles, and they had the injuries of both Devaj and Carl Mattus to consider. He also had no desire to expose the Revenant, Cyril, to violence so soon after his… metamorphosis.
“We would appreciate it, however, if you would remand those other prisoners you’ve already taken today back into our custody,” Artemis added. She agreed with Scion’s assessment, and showing the man respect, in the moment, cost nothing. But she wasn’t going to let Gaoler assume they were giving him any kind of approval.
The Gaoler actually laughed at that, then turned his back on the Vanguard, stepping back through the doorway. As soon as he crossed the threshold the yellow torchlight vanished, and the view out the door was the expected one again. A view which included SHADE agents and APD officers frantically searching empty paddy wagons for their suddenly missing prisoners…
Varina lounged on her throne. To any outside observer, had there been any such in that vast, cold room, it would have seemed an unlikely thing to do. The throne was massive, made of skulls, human and otherwise, piled high and gilded in gold; it’s seat and back, of dark leather (best not to ask of what creature) dyed the color of arterial blood, was ringed with twisted, spiked bands of black iron. To sit upon it at all seemed likely to be uncomfortable, and to lounge… but the throne, like almost everything in this miserable, corrupted world, bent to the will of the witch-queen who ruled it. If she wished to lounge comfortably, then she did so, and the world made it so.
As she lounged, the dark-haired and darker-eyed woman gazed into a massive crystal sphere that hung in the air before her. Within that sphere figures moved, and the faint sounds of speech came to her eager ears… the sounds of a funeral oration. As she gazed, she smiled in deep satisfaction. Roland Reid was dead, at last. Hardly soon enough for her and her rage, to be sure, but much sooner than she had expected. And the fool had died, not in battle against an enemy, but in his sleep. Of old age!
She laughed out loud at the very thought.
As the Magus Prime of his reality he could have called upon any number of arcane forces to extend his life; for centuries, if he had so wished. Certainly she had availed herself such methods, else her 660-odd years would weigh even more heavily on her than they did. She still reveled at times in the pleasures of a body perpetually 25 years old, lithe and strong. But Roland had eschewed such things. Part of his tedious “morality,” she supposed, although for the life of her, the logic escaped her.
Still, for whatever unfathomable reason, he was dead. And with his death all of his agreements, contracts, and bargains on behalf of and in defense of his reality were null and void. Including the one that had kept her from interfering, in any way, with Earth, much less conquering it, for so long. Now she was free at last to set in motion the plan she had spent a century perfecting, and which that doddering old fool had stymied 27 years ago.
Now she could finally begin her ascent to true godhood!
Varina watch attentively as her old enemy was laid to rest by his nearest and dearest friends. Her smile now was cold and avaricious…
New Atlantis, NJ – Earth
Cooper sighed as he turned away from the grave, the steady patter of rain on his umbrella a morose counterpoint to his dark thoughts. He hadn’t known Arkanos, Roland Reid, all that well, truth be told, and yet his death had hit him hard. It was only during the eulogy, as he let the words wash over him mostly unheard, that understanding had suddenly dawned. Roland had been an elder to him, a mentor and a guide, however briefly. His loss now was a reflection of Cooper’s other losses — of the tribal elders, of his family, of all of the people of his vanished island home. And he had never been able to say goodbye to them, even ceremonially.
Strangely, that sudden epiphany lightened his mood somewhat. He understood loss, and had plenty of experience coping with it… he would deal with this loss too. But he thought he understood the idea of “closure” a little better now. Perhaps it was time to seek some closure for Sgang Gwaay Llanagaay…
He did wish that Meg had been able to join him, but Devaj had made it clear that this was to be a small, private service for his departed master, confined only to those who had known of Roland’s role as the mystical protector of Earth, the Magus Prime. As much as the Indian manservant appeared to like Meg, she was an up-and-coming reporter with a national reputation. Best not to put temptation in her way, Devaj had said apologetically, but firmly.
In fact, there had been fewer than a dozen others at the graveside this morning, almost all of them heroes. Everyone had been in their civilian identities, for decorum’s sake he supposed. Of course some, such as the Sampson family, were as famous out of costume as in, had any press been present to notice. But they weren’t, and now everyone was hurrying to their cars, heads down and umbrellas up against the steady rain.
Cooper caught up with his two companions as they reached their own vehicle, a vintage limousine of impressive length. Somehow Devaj was there before them, despite having been the last to speak at the graveside. He held the rear door open for them, taking their umbrellas as each slid into the capacious passenger area.
“How do you do that?” Cooper said with a faint smile as he handed the slender Indian his own umbrella and ducked inside after the others. Atara had already taken the rear-facing seat, so he settled down next to Grant, facing forward.
“Magic sir, of course,” Devaj replied in his lilting accent, still there after so long in the US. Cooper thought his smile looked sad as he shut the door. “Magic” might well be the truth, he thought. The man had spent the last 50 years or so as aide d’camp and constant companion to the worlds’s most powerful mage. It would be a surprise if he hadn’t picked up a trick or two along the way.
As the car made its way through the winding lanes of North Hill Cemetery the silence inside the car grew heavy. Atara gazed out the window, but if she saw the stark gray majesty of nearby St. Giles Church or appreciated the misty New Jersey countryside visible here from high atop the Palisades she gave no sign. Her deep brown eyes seemed turned inward, and she chewed absently on a strand of her thick, black hair.
Grant also seemed distracted, Cooper thought, the man’s dark blue eyes studying their companion. He absently turned a thick silver chain on his left wrist for a few minutes, let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his tangled blond hair.
“This must have been so hard on Devaj,” he broke the silence finally, with a quiet aside to Cooper. “I tired to get him to let me take on some of the logistical details of today’s dog-and-pony show, but he was adamant. Said he would “continue to do for Roland as I have always done, in death as in life.” But to have to keep up the pretense, today of all days…”
“Pretense?” Cooper asked, feeling he’d missed a beat somewhere. “What pretense?”
Grant looked surprised. “About their relationship… I’d think it would be difficult enough to lose your life-long lover without also having to keep up the charade that you were just the butler.”
Coopers usual stoic façade cracked slightly and his eyes widened. Grant’s own distracted expression vanished as he took in his friend’s reaction, and he grinned. “You mean you really didn’t know? I thought, after the trials… I mean, wasn’t he mentoring you too, this past year?”
“Well, yes,” Cooper acknowledged. “But it wasn’t like we discussed the man’s love life – we were studying magic! He was a very private man, and Devaj was… always there.” And they were both so old, he managed not to say.
The day’s second epiphany struck him then, as a dozen previously unregarded memories of the last couple of years suddenly shifted themselves about in his mind and dropped into new slots — creating an entirely different picture than the one he thought he knew. “Oh.”
Grant obviously sensed the mental wheels turning, and knew when the coin dropped. His grin widened. Cooper flushed, grateful his coppery skin made it difficult for his companion to see in the dim car interior.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised,” Grant allowed, giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “I did have the advantage of Gaydar™, after all, and… Cooper, your native culture was, is, pretty hierarchical, right? Devaj does a superb job at playing the faithful manservant, and if that’s a role you expect and accept, there’s no reason you’d ever look beyond the obvious.
“But I was never really comfortable with whole servant/master dynamic, and one day… I don’t even remember exactly what it was, but some small gesture, a look between the two, and the light bulb went off. They could both tell I knew, too, almost as soon as I’d figured it out. We never spoke much about it, but they both seemed more relaxed around me after that.”
“Yes, it was much the same with me,” Atara said, startling both men, who had’t noticed her sudden focus on their quiet exchange. “Although my discovery was less intuitive than it was… unexpected. For all of us.” Her olive skin darkened in remembered embarrassment.
Grant seemed to get it at once, but it took Cooper a second. Both men’s eyes widened. “You mean you.. what? You walked in on them en flagrant delicto?” Grant seemed torn between hilarity and sympathy. Atara shot him a glare and rolled her eyes.
“It wasn’t that dramatic, Grant, for god’s sake. I didn’t burst into Roland’s bedroom or anything. They were in the solarium, it was early, and I’d only moved into the mansion a week earlier… they were kissing under the forsythia.”
“That must have been… awkward,” Cooper allowed, keeping his own expression tightly under control. Still, some hint of his humor must have shown, because she stretched out a leg and kicked him in the shin.
“You’re just as bad as he is, Ravenwing. But yes, it was indeed awkward. For me at least. The two of them didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, of course. After a brief exchange, and I honestly don’t even remember what was said, Devaj slipped away to prepare breakfast, and Roland sat me down to tell me the whole story.
“By the time Devaj rolled in the food trolley with his amazing eggs Benedict, cherry crepes, and mimosas, I was fully swept up in the romance of it all.”
“The whole story? That’s more than I ever got,” Grant admitted. “I know they met in India, not long after Roland had become the Magus Prime, and that they shared a couple of wild adventures together before they became a couple, but I never wanted to pry.”
“Well, you should have, I’m sure they would’ve told you… it wasn’t any great secret. But they are both men of an older time, more discrete, or maybe it’s better to say reserved, than most of our generation.”
The rest of the half-hour drive from North Hill to Seacliff was taken up with Atara’s recounting of the first meeting beteeen Roland Reid and Devaj Acharya in Calcutta, in 1956, and the attempted demonic infiltration of the Earthly plane which they thwarted there; the old Brahmin Acharya family’s dismay when their 20-year-old son threw over his pre-ordained medical career to study “magic” with the 36-year-old American “wizard”; and how they stumbled into love even as it became obvious that Devaj would make an indifferent sorcerer at best.
“At that memorable breakfast,” Atara concluded just as they pulled up to the mansion, “Roland told me that Devaj means “from the gods” in Hindi, and that he was sure it was true, because without Devaj’s unconditional love and support he doubted he could have survived for so long as the Magus Prime.”
Roland Reid’s mansion stood on a large plot of land in the exclusive Seacliff neighborhood of New Atlantis. Located on Elder Island and perched atop a cliff overlooking the Atlantic’s pounding surf, the building was a large and sprawling Victorian pile of three floors, and a tower with a wide widow’s walk ringing the top, that added one more. It was screened from the prying eyes of its neighboring mansions by numerous old trees and a tall, thick holly hedge, red berries currently bright against the glossy dark green leaves.
Not only a home, it was also the Sanctum Primus, one of the great focii of Earth’s primordial mystical power. The Sanctum was a moveable feast, existing wherever the current Magus Prime willed it, and shaping its appearance and much of its function to their desire. As such, the mansion was considerably larger inside than it appeared to be from the outside.
Devaj ushered them through the massive front doors and into the grand foyer, where Atara excused herself with a distracted wave of her hand and vanished up the great staircase. After her burst of volubility in the car, she had lapsed once more into a morose silence. Cooper suspected their conversation had only served to remind her of the burden and responsibilities being the Magus Prime laid on whomever bore the title.
As Devaj took the two men’s coats Cooper thanked him, then murmured a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss, Devaj. I hadn’t realized before the true depth of it… but Atara explained it to me—“
“Thank you, young sir, I appreciate the thought. And yes, I know what the young miss told you. And not by any arcane means, either,” he added at Cooper’s expression. “The intercom was simply on the whole time.” His smile this time had a little more of his usual dry humor in it.
“Oh, well, I hope it was all right…”
“As she said, it was not a great secret, and the fact is Roland considered you three as part of his family… as do I.”
“Thank you Devaj, that means a lot to me. With my own family… well, at least Roland has a beautiful view from his final resting place, it is a stunning location. A family plot, yes?”
“Yes, for several generations of Reids. But Roland will not be enjoying the view I’m afraid, for he is not buried there.”
“What?” Cooper looked confused. “But we just — I mean we just came from—“
“It was an empty casket we buried today, Cooper,” Atara said with a sigh, descending the staircase, now dressed in her Sabra costume of white and blue body suit and blue cloak, the hood pulled back. She smiled sadly at Devaj and nodded. The more-than-a-manservant nodded in return, and crossed the tessellated stone floor of the foyer to open a set of sliding doors into the south parlor. Sabra motioned for Grant and Cooper to follow.
The furniture that Cooper had seen on previous visits was gone, replaced by a simple bier in the center of room. On it was set a casket of milky crystal framed in hammered bronze. Within, the shadowy form of Roland’s body could be dimly seen. Massive white candles on beaten bronze stands circled the bier at the edges of the room, casting their warm light over the tableau.
“I don’t understand,” Grant said, stepping up to peer down at his former mentor’s body through the hazy crystal. “Why the deception at the cemetery? Is he…” sudden hope flared in him, as it did at the same instant in Cooper.
“Is he not really dead?” Cooper finished his friend’s question. “Is there some ritual… something we have to do…”
“No, he is truly dead, I am afraid,” Devaj shook his head sadly, laying a gentle hand on the casket. “But he was the Magus Prime of this reality, the greatest living sorcerer of his day, and as such his body will rest in honor and safety with those of so many of his predecessors, in the Tombs of Kleth-Kilnbeneath the Halls of Shambhala. And as his students, friends and family, we four alone shall convey him to that well-deserved rest.”
“It would be most fitting if you were both in costume for this,” Sabra suggested. “May I?” At her friends’ nods, she gestured, and their dark suits rippled and faded, to be replaced with their “working” clothes.
At the Devaj’s direction, Totem and Gatekeeper took up positions at the foot of the casket, left and right, while Sabra stood to the left at the head. Roland’s beloved took the honored right. He gestured, and a disk of shimmering, arcane light appeared over his outstretched hand. It snaked out to touch the casket, and the others quickly followed suit. They lifted Roland Reid’s casket on strands of magic, and as they did a portal warped open before them. The four pall bearers stepped through, their burden held at shoulder height…
The Tombs of Kleth-Kiln lie deep beneath the mountains to the north of the hidden, mystical valley of Shambhala. Already old when Atlantis sank beneath the waves, awash in more than 20,000 years of accumulated mystic might from Eath’s most powerful mages, Shambhala is one of the great focii of power in our universe… and the home to the Powers That Be. This mystical force is what grants the mantle of Magus Prime to the mage, wizard, witch or warlock deemed worthy of the title… and capable of bearing the responsibility.
The chamber where Cooper and his companions found themselves now was vast and dimly lit by a deep blue effulgence that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. It was circular, its ceiling lost in blue shadow, and seven wide arches led to seven long, dark corridors which radiated out from it. As they stood, Roland’s crystal casket floating in the air between them, the silence was deep and hieratic.
Without a single sound to break that silence, suddenly a score of dark figures glided from the shadows at the edges of the chamber to gather around the pall bearers. From descriptions in the tales Artemis had told him of this place, Cooper recognized them as monks and acolytes of Shambhala Temple, and the keepers of the Tombs.
No word was spoken, but one of the hooded figures bowed to Devaj, who nodded in return. The figure gestured toward one of the dark corridors, and turned to lead the way. As they followed, the temple denizens fell into procession around them, and as they did they began to chant. Cooper could understand no single word, and yet he understood that dirge in a place within himself beyond language or reason. He knew its song, of grief and sadness, of strength and joy, and ultimately of hope…he knew it in his soul as Truth.
As they progressed down the long corridor, wide enough for six to walk abreast, the deep blue light seemed to move with them. In its bubble he could see the walls were lined on either side with crystal caskets similar to the one he and his companions carried. Set almost upright, they rose in three tiers to the base of the vaulted ceiling. Within, shadowed forms could be discerned, the uncorrupted bodies of great magi who had come before, and who had passed on to… something else. To become a part of the Powers That Be, some said…
After a time and distance he could never afterward be sure of, they came to a place where the caskets ceased, and only dark cavities could be seen. It was toward one of these recesses, in the highest tier, that they raised Roland Reid’s casket, sliding it gently into its destined slot. As they did, there was a flash of blue-white light, and the chanting stopped.
No one spoke; words in this place seemed superfluous. For a time each person present contemplated their own thoughts. Cooper’s were of life, of death, of immortality, of the vagaries of Fate… and on the mysterious fate of his own lost people…
At some unspoken signal, everyone turned from their inward thoughts and began the trek back to the central chamber of the Tombs. The Shambhalans took up a new chant, this evoking images of rest and peace, of a life well-lived and tasks completed, and of comforting continuity…
When they reached the central chamber the chant came to a close once more, and the monks and acolytes faded back into the shadows as silently as they had come. The silence they left behind, however, was not the same. Now it was as if the world held its breath, waiting…
Minutes passed, and the anticipation mounted. Cooper was about to speak, to say something, anything to break that rising tension, when a new light drew everyone’s attention upward. From the deep blue shadows a brighter, bluer light was growing. As it grew, Cooper could see that it came from a great, multifaceted crystal set in the stone ceiling far above them – by far the largest kundalini crystal he’d ever seen. With the light came a low, vibrating thrum in the air, almost subliminal, as of tremendous power barely contained.
As the four watched, a shimmering curtain of light, like a cold blue aurora borealis, slowly coalesced into existence around the perimeter of the chamber. In that wavering, flickering haze it seemed to Cooper that the lights suggested shapes, as of ranks of men and women… but never more than a suggestion. No clear or certain image ever resolved, at least to his eye.
“The Powers That Be,” whispered Devaj, his eyes as wide as those of any of his younger companions. Cooper had never seen the unflappable Indian show anything but cool composure, even in the face of death; but now his hands shook as if with a palsy. He motioned Sabra forward. “The time has come, young miss.”
The Israeli woman’s wide brown eyes were fixed on the shimmering lights surrounding them, and for a moment she seemed frozen in place. Then, with a shuddering breath, she stepped forward, alone, into the center of the room and lifted her chin high.
For just a moment it seemed to Cooper as if the flickering lights paused… hesitated. But the impression was fleeting, gone almost as soon as he had registered it. A secondary thread of light began to form, a warm, golden band that wove itself amongst the cooler blue aurora, growing thicker and brighter as it circled the room. It soon pulled inward, spinning closer to the young woman at the center of the space, shrinking and growing denser as it did.
When it reached Sabra, hanging for a moment in the air above her, it seemed almost to be a cloth of golden sunlight. Then it settled down over her, like a cloak or mantle, and as it did it faded away… faded intoAtara Dayna, called Sabra. The mantle of Magus Prime had been passed to its new master.
•••••••
Cooper hung up the phone and smiled in satisfaction. He had secured reservations for himself and Meg at Temerity at the Top of the Tower, one of Astoria’s most iconic, and exclusive, restaurants, for Valentine’s Day. He’d had to wield his status as a member of the Vanguard like a club, true, but what was the point of celebrity if you didn’t take advantage of it occasionally? At least he hadn’t had to resort to mind control.
He was still somewhat bemused by these Outer World “holidays,” and people’s obsession with some of them, but not with others. Why was Christmas a big deal, yet Flag Day was all but ignored? He understood that this one mattered, however, at least to Meg. Last year she had planned their Valentine’s Day, a very enjoyable outing which she had assured him was suitably “romantic.”
Afterward, she had made it very clear that this year such plans would be his responsibility. At least that’s what he thought “OK, the ball’s in your court for next time, pal,” had meant. She was also a very practical woman, though, and she knew he still struggled with many Outer World customs; so her seemingly casual comment this morning about the holiday being just four days away had certainly been a gentle reminder. With just a hint of steel behind it.
He’d smiled and assured her that he was on it, and that it would be as romantic an evening as she could want. Not long after, claiming Vanguard business, he had rushed off to the Pyramid. His first inclination was to turn to his teammates for advice… but to whom?
Of the obvious two first choices, JJ would likely be just as confounded by the question as he was, while Artemis would flash that enigmatic smile of hers and then offer him some oblique hint. Chuck had the experience, perhaps, but would almost certainly make a joke of it, and Jonny, while probably enthusiastic enough, lacked the experience, he suspected, to be of much help. Prometheus was even more out of touch with Outer World customs than Cooper was, and was lecturing at some university back East in any case; no one had heard from Gideon in six months. Which left Kyle. Who, on proper reflection, should have been his first choice… unfortunately, he was out today making the rounds of local hospitals in his secondary secret identity of Dr. Jason Cresswell, surreptitiously healing the afflicted with his quantum powers.
No, he’d have to figure this out himself, he’d realized, and as he had pondered what Meg might consider “romantic,” he was reminded of Kevin Lipton, the pilot of the plane that had triggered the Astoria Incident, and been its first victim. The man had been planning on taking his wife to Temerity at the Top of the Tower that night, to celebrate their anniversary, something his teammates had all found tragically romantic. As had Meg, he recalled. They could skip the tragic part, he hoped, but the romance part sounded perfect, and he’d made the call.
Now to think about the matter of flowers… another dubious custom that he didn’t really get. How was giving someone a bunch of dying vegetation a sign of love? Now, the first cut of the liver from a fresh kill, that said love… he winced at the memory of Meg’s reaction the first time he’d offered her the fresh liver of a deer he’d killed on a camping/hunting trip they’d taken in college. No, better to stick with the dead vegetation…
Suddenly the world began to spin around him, and he felt a strange tugging sensation, as if he were being pulled in a direction that didn’t exist in standard three-dimensional space… a teleportation spell he realized, an instant too late to do anything about it. There was a swirling sense of color and motion and then he was — elsewhere.
And wearing his costume, he noted absently as he stared about himself. He realized he knew the place – he was in the public lobby of Alliance Hall, the Liberty Alliance’s embassy in New Atlantis. Hard on the heels of that realization came a tremendous “THOOM,” as much felt as heard, and the whole building shook. Which, given what he knew of its construction, was worrisome.
“Totem, Guardian, sorry for dragging you here so abruptly!”
Cooper turned to see Sabra, in her full costume, floating in mid-air near the massive main doors of the Hall, her face shadowed by her hood, blue cloak billowing out around her. Standing halfway between him and her was a confused-looking Guardian, the subtle rainbow hues of his own cloak shifting as he too turned to stare at their friend.
“As you can see, the Hall is under attack, and I’m the only one here at the moment. I could really use your help!” As she spoke, Sabra gestured with both hands at the doors, which were beginning to bulge inward. A golden disk of arcane energy flared from her to press them back, but the strain showed on her face.
“Of course,” Totem said, stepping up beside the Guardian, who was making a small hand gesture of his own. “What exactly are we dealing with?”
“I’m not entirely sure, the monitors showed a big muscular red-head, who looks like he just raided a Celtic LARPer’s closet, and twenty or so hulking brutes in kilts and not much else – they’re at least eight feet tall and wielding claymore swords.”
“Take a look for yourself,” the Guardian said. He had opened one of his smaller portals and set its corresponding opening to a point behind and slightly above the attacker’s position outside. Sabra floated down to join them and the three heroes peered out at the enemy through this impromptu view-screen.
“He calls himself Tethra, and appears to be a fairly powerful sorcerer,” Sabra said. “He’s been bellowing about coming to reclaim what’s rightfully his, between assaults on the doors; something he calls the “Cliamh Solais,” although I’ve no idea what that might be.”
“It is mystical weapon from Irish Celtic mythology,” a cool, almost disinterested voice boomed from seemingly nowhere. Totem recognized it as belonging to Urbana, the synthetic gynoid member of the Alliance imbued with the Spirit of Cities. “A sword, in fact. In English the name means “Sword of Light.” It was taken from this Tartha person, who styles himself a Celticdemigod, four years ago when the Liberty Alliance defeated him and his giant warriors, known as the Fomorri, after they attempted to conquer Ireland. It is currently stored in one of the secure artifact vaults beneath the Hall.”
“OK, thanks for the info dump, Urbana,” the Guardian said, rolling his eyes. “How about some actual help with these guys? They look pretty physical, and that’s not really my forte, you know?”
“As Sabra is aware, I am not physically present at the Hall, being on monitor duty in the Overwatch. The rest of the Alliance is currently unavailable, and I cannot myself leave my station for anything less than a planetary threat. But I have located additional assets to assist in this situation, and they are incoming. Standby.”
“So, where’re the rest of your team?” the Guardian asked, eyeing the doors warily. “Are you really here alone?”
“Yes, most of the team is off-planet, and the Sampson’s too. Their all out in the Asteroid Belt… the UN is getting ready to open the Star Gate again, and they’re not taking any chances this time. The Golden Cheetah is dealing with a crisis in Africa, and as you heard, Urbana is on monitor duty upstairs.
“I volunteered to watch the Hall, because I thought it would be a good, quiet time, to renew the spells of protection guarding the place. Since his death, Roland’s spells have been slowly fading, and the rate of decay seems to be —“
At that moment Tartha renewed his assault on the doors, and this time they blew inward in several flaming chunks. Totem threw up a shield barely in time to protect the three of them from the debris, but the shimmering green energy couldn’t stop the Celtic horde from crossing the threshold with a guttural cry of triumph. Sabra blasted the three in the lead with a mystic bolt, but their great swords seemed to absorb and deflect the energy. They were only briefly staggered.
Tartha himself seemed content to let his soldiers bear the brunt of their defense, remaining at the back of the pack of giant warriors as they poured through the breech he’d made. Laughing a deep, booming laugh, he urged them on in a lilting Irish brough. “Go on lads! Why ‘tis no more ‘n a wee slip o’ a lass these so-mighty heroes have left to guard their palace… and a pair o’ eunuchs, I do believe!”
The heroes were too busy with the rampaging giants to pay much attention to the so-called demigod’s taunts. Totem noticed that Sabra’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed at the “wee slip ‘o a lass” remark, however, and her bands of golden light lifted two giants up and slammed their heads together with particular vehemence a moment later.
The Guardian reached into one of his portals and pulled forth an Uzi – apparently a sleeper somewhere in the world was dreaming of mowing down his (or her) enemies with it, which allowed him to make it manifest in the real world… and with an apparently endless supply of ammo, Totem noted. Unfortunately, the bullets did little more than raise red welts on the giants’ hides. And further enrage them, of course…
Totem himself called forth the Mists of Sleep, which rained down gently over those invaders already inside the building. But the Celtic mage outside was instantly aware of the ploy and, at a gesture and a word, his own violet mist rose up to meet Totem’s descending green droplets. The two met and vanished together with a hiss like water dropped on a hot griddle. Then two of the giants were on him, and he was forced onto the defensive, raising his shields to deflect their sword-blows. He staggered backward several steps.
For the next few minutes the three heroes fought a slow retreating battle as the score of giant warriors pushed forward. Tartha countered the spells to which his men weren’t already immune, and occasionally sent his own blasts of violet mystical power at one or another of the defenders. The heroes could barely hold the invaders in check, keeping them in the huge lobby, with no breathing space to plan an effective counter-attack of their own.
Tartha had just entered the building himself, bringing up the rear with a deep, mirthful laugh, when he was flung forward into the back of one of his own giants by a blast of violet light, a deeper shade than the Celt’s own magic. He crumpled to the floor with a surprised grunt, momentarily dazed, as another giant strode through the doorway to survey the situation.
“Prometheus!” Totem called. “Good to see you my friend… and well timed!”
“Did you miss me too?” another voice asked from above, and Totem looked up to see the Phantom Ace descending like a wraith through the ceiling. He dropped down and through the nearest giant, who suddenly looked very surprised, then puzzled — and then keeled over unconscious, leaving a grinning Ace standing in his place.
The arrival of his erstwhile teammates gave Totem, the Guardian, and most especially Sabra, the breather they needed to regroup and plan a strategy. Tartha was back on his feet soon enough, but now he faced three skilled mages, one of whom was the Magus Prime, working in concert. While Prometheus and the Phantom Ace engaged the Fomorri, Sabra, the Guardian and Totem focused their combined powers on the Celtic demigod.
In less than five minutes Tartha was bound in the golden Unbreakable Bonds of Bhakarea, and the few Fomorri still on their feet were forced to stand down and surrender. The public lobby of the Hall was trashed, it’s stone floor cracked, displays shattered, and the main reception desk somehow embedded in the ceiling — but the Celts had made it no further into the building. Certainly not to the secure vaults in the deep sub-levels.
“Well done, Sabra, Guardian, members of the Vanguard,” Urbana’s dry tones echoed once again from nowhere in particular. “I had calculated an 89.7% chance that the specific combination of you five would defeat the intruders without undue damage to the Hall. I am gratified to see that I was correct.
“Sabra, I have alerted SHADE, and the proper authorities should be on site in about five minutes. Please be sure to have our guests fill out proper after-action reports to append to your own, once the miscreants have been removed from the premises. I am, of course, available to you from the Overlook should you have further need of me.”
“‘In about five minutes?’” the Guardian said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s rather vague for Urbana, isn’t it?”
“Yes, she’s been trying to be more “human” in her speech patterns recently,” Sabra sighed. “Without any great success, I’m afraid. Now, I want to interrogate our prisoners before SHADE gets here and hauls them off. Prometheus, would you and the Phantom Ace question the still-conscious Fomorri? Totem, Guardian, I could use your help with Tartha.”
The Celtic demigod seemed surprisingly resigned as he hung suspended several feet above the floor, tightly bound from mouth to ankles in golden light. Indeed, his eyes seemed more amused than angry as Sabra stood before him. She gestured and the seal across his mouth faded away.
“Why did you choose today to attack?” she asked. “And how did you manage to escape your prison to even do so?”
At Totems inquiring look she shrugged. “I had Urbana flash-beam me the relevant files a few minutes ago. When the Liberty Alliance defeated him and his Fomorri army, Arkanos banished them to a place called Magh Mell; a dimension they should not have been able to escape from without outside help.”
Tartha snorted, and shook his head. “Magh Mell — the Plain of Happiness, in your uncouth tongue — ha’ any place e’er been so misnamed, I ask you? The Plain of Tedium, more like, I assure you lass. And indeed, even I found it nigh impossible to escape from within, though it wounds my pride to admit as much to such a comely lass as yourself.
“As to why attack this palace now? Why not, m‘dear? ‘Twas the first thing I’d been a-plottin’ these four years past, should I e’er escape m’dreary cage. And I’ve only just done that thing, and so here we are. Now lass, I don’t suppose you’d be at all disposed to be returning m’sword to me, despite our little brouhaha just now?”
“Hardly,” Sabra said dryly, although she had to resist a smile. The man was surely charming, and he had hutzpah enough for a dozen men. “But if you want to file a formal claim on the item and request a hearing to state your case to have it returned to you, I’ll see that SHADE provides you with the proper forms.”
Totem almost burst out laughing at the utterly blank look on the Celt’s face at this; and after a moment Tartha himself did break out into gales of hearty laughter.
“Oh lass, there’s more t’ you than a pretty face, I see! I’d wondered how t’ mantle of Magus Prime could’ve fallen to one so young and tender, but now I begin t’ see it.”
“Good. Then perhaps you’ll believe me when I tell you I’ll send you back to your Plain of Tedium, rather than an earthly prison, if you don’t tell me who helped you to escape it.”
“Aye, sure and I do believe ye both could and would, lass. So I’ll tell you ‘twas another wee lass, though one not so fiery as yourself, yourself. This one was beautiful, t’ be sure, but cold enough to freeze a man’s – er, that is a, quite cold.
“Varina, she was named, and she is the Witch-Queen of the Dark World. She came to us in the boredom of Magh Mell, and told us of the death of the old Magus Prime. She told me that the only guardian of this Palace of the Allies was the new Magus, a mere wee girl who might be easily defeated… and then the mantle might well fall to myself, it might.”
As Tartha finished speaking a series of harsh, discordant notes echoed throughout the great space of the damaged lobby, and the air in front of the heroes began to ripple and twist. A face gradually formed, vast and translucent, ten feet high and staring down at them all with disdain. It was the visage of woman with jet black hair, and Totem could see that Tartha had spoken the truth – she was beautiful indeed, but to him it seemed the sterile beauty of cold, sculpted stone. Her eyes, which at first he had thought to be black, he suddenly realized were actually a dark, dark red. When she spoke her voice was like ice water poured into his ears.
“So, it seems my vaunted champions were not the peerless warriors I had been led to believe them to be. Of course it is a matter of no real importance. The buffoonish fool Tartha and his dim witted Fomorri were little more than a bee, to prick you and warn you of my coming… I would have disposed of them myself, even had they done the job properly. Do as you will with them now, they are of no further interest to me.
“But we have not been formally introduced, child. I am Varina, Empress of 999 worlds, called by many the Witch-Queen of the Greater Targanu. Roland Reid may have temporarily forestalled my conquest of your pathetic world, with his cowardly manipulation of our Duel Magistiri… of course that was long before you were even born, wasn’t it? Well, the details are unimportant at this late date. He is dead at last, and with him gone, all of his agreements are now as null and void as he himself.
“So, even now, here in my own dark realm, far beyond your infant’s grasp, my armies are gathering. Soon they will march forth to trample your world beneath their iron boots in my name. Only a true Magus Prime could ever hope to stop me. Roland did so once, however dishonestly, when he held that title. Of course, I can hardly imagine his child apprentice could manage to rise to even his level of incompetence… and so, farewell for now. Soon you, and your entire world will bow down to me and know me for your goddess!!”
Varina’s image slowly faded away until, Cheshire cat-like, only her cold, smug smile remained. It hung in the air for a moment, a chilling promise, and then it too vanished.
“That… that… BITCH!” Sabra fumed, her fists clenched as she glared at the spot where their enemy’s face had been. “Roland told me about her, and how he defeated her the last time they met. He was certainly Magus enough to send her packing with her tail between her legs, whatever insults she comes up with now, now that he’s gone!”
“Is she really as powerful as she implied?” Totem asked. If she had truly conquered almost a thousand other worlds, then she must be a formidable opponent indeed, and her arrogance well deserved.
“Well, yes, she is,” Sabra was forced to admit, and the flush began to fade from her cheeks. The question forced her to calm down enough to seriously consider what they’d learned.
“She’s over 600 years old, Roland once told me, and she really has conquered close to a thousand different worlds in that time… many alternate versions of Earth, some different dimensions, and a few conceptual planes. As she conquers them she merges each one into her own original dark dimension, melding the whole into a singular, twisted world of despair… a dark reflection of her own warped psyche, he said.”
“She implied that she could be defeated in a Duel Magistiri,” the Guardian said. “And that Roland had done so once before. Do you think you could do the same? Do you know how he managed it?”
“I do,” Sabra acknowledged. “But I’d rather not discuss this in front of the prisoner.”
Tartha snorted, but shrugged his understanding as best he could, given his retraints. “Tis sensible, I’ll grant ye, lass. But you’ve naught to fear of my betraying yer plans to that cold-hearted witch… I see I was naught to her but a means to taunt you, and I’m not liking that “buffoonish” comment so much! Indeed, I might be willing to help you and your lads here… if not for my sword, then perhaps for my freedom, eh?”
His face flared crimson as the three heroes burst into simultaneous laughter.
•••••••
After agents of SHADE had arrived with appropriate gear to secure and remove Tartha and his Fomorri minions, and the security construction company with which the Alliance had a standing contract for clean-up and reconstruction had been called, Sabra had a lunch laid on for the five of them in one of the Hall’s conference rooms.
Over the meal, Sabra explained the way in which Roland had, 27 years earlier, beaten Varina in their formal Duel Magistiri. He had set in motion a series of rebellions in her core realm, which Devaj had then overseen and fanned into flames once the Duel itself had begun. It had been a hard fought battle, and the outcome uncertain, until Roland had revealed to her what was going on in Greater Targanu. With her power base in danger of splintering away beneath her, she had been forced to withdraw, forfeiting the match. Bound by unbreakable oaths, Earth and its dimension was thereafter safe from her direct interference.
“So, what you’re saying is, he cheated,” the Guardian said, laughing.
Sabra smiled. “Varinia certainly felt that way. But it wasn’t cheating, or else she would not have been bound by the oaths and rules of the Duel Magistiri. No, it was just foresight, good planning, and impeccable timing.”
“Can you do the same sort of thing?” Phantom Ace asked. “Or would that be too predictable?”
“The very fact that trying the same ploy a second time would seem foolish – and surely she will have taken precautions – might actually give it a chance to succeed,” Sabra said. “And it doesn’t sound like she’s expecting me to demand a Duel, or at least not until she makes her move, here on Earth.
“I’m not planning on waiting for her and her damn army to invade. My idea is to strike now, while she believes I am off-balance, and to offer the Duel Magistri in her own realm. I don’t think she’ll be expecting that, and if you four are willing to help me, I might just be able to pull it off.
“The Duel must start with just the two of us, but each side is allowed champions, as long as they are agreed to by both parties. But your talents will be better deployed, I think, in recreating Roland’s tactic – sowing chaos and rebellion in her own empire. It is a two-pronged strategy: on the one hand, if we succeed in getting any significant portion of her people to throw off her yoke, her power will be correspondingly reduced, which should help me; if she is forced to withdraw to forestall that loss, as before, then even better.”
“A reasonable strategy,” Prometheus said, nodding thoughtfully. “I will lend you my aid in this.”
“Actually, disappearing from Earth for a while is just what the doctor order,” Phantom Ace offered with a grin. “I’m in!”
Totem and the Guardian signaled their assent as well, and everyone agreed that a fast strike gave them the best chance of success… although a few hours of preparation wouldn’t hurt, either.
“Yes, I don’t propose we dash off this second, and I certainly have some ideas we should discuss,” Sabra said. “And until I actually confront Varina, I will be spending most of my energies keeping our presence in her world shielded from her awareness, so I will be depending on you four for most of the tactical action, whatever it turns out to be…”
•••••••
The five heroes arrived in the heart of Varina’s realm on a bluff overlooking a sad river town. Targanu was a dark, dreary world, although it had supposedly once been very Earth-like. Now, no sun shone in a churning sky of sullen red and black clouds that seemed to glow with their own dismal radiance. Ashen plants grew listlessly in the rocky, barren soil on the slope below them and the flatlands spreading out behind. What few trees dotted the landscape were sickly and skeletal, with clumps of dead, dry leaves suserrating in the cold wind.
The town itself was dull and gray, perhaps a 100 buildings of featureless, dusty stone, brick and wood, none more than three stories tall. It looked like nothing so much as a cross between a fantasy medieval village and a 19th century English industrial town. It was dwarfed by an immense mill or factory of black stone and iron, half again as large as the settlement over which it loomed. Dirty gray smoke billowed from a dozen blackened chimneys, each 30 meters tall, casting an entirely redundant pall over the town.
As they watched, hidden by a jumble of boulders at the top of the bluff, Totem and his companions quickly realized something was already afoot. A number of chalk-white skeletal figures appeared to be rounding up the townsfolk, forcing them ungently into a rough circle in the towns square. Two black-robed figures and another in red watched the crowd as it grew. When the last of the citizens had been pulled from their homes and shoved into place, the figure in red began to speak.
The Guardian opened one of his portals, no more than 10 mm across, in a spot under the eaves of the closest building to the town square, and Phantom Ace snaked through the almost invisible neck of a Scion-created optical/audio device. The others gathered around to watch and listen on the LCM screen Ace unfolded on a nearby rock. Sabra’sSpell of Understanding seemed to be working, as they had no trouble following the strange, guttural language of the red-robed woman…
“People of Braghva, I am Kürvasah, Necromancer Secondus to our Dark Empress, Varina the Just, and I am here, with my lieutenants and my army of the unliving, because her Serene Majesty is displeased. Most displeased indeed.
“It is well known that soon She will embark on the most important conquest in a generation, and yet… and yet, the production quotas for your town are down… again! On top of which, rumor has reached the Imperial ear that you hoard supplies, of food and medicine especially. Almost as if you doubted our benevolent Lady’s ability to provide for you in sufficiency. Is this true? Do you doubt the power and the love of our monarch?”
The crowed moaned in fearful denial of any such feeling, a few shouting out their undying loyalty to the Crown. Kürvasah smiled at that, a feral and unreassuring smile.
“Well good, I am most glad to hear it. For aside from the hoarded supplies, which my soldiers have uncovered… did you really think they wouldn’t find them, just because they’re dead? Aside from confiscating those, I will also be taking one out of every four of you, to swell the ranks of the armies of Varina the Triumphant. If this were a loyal town, you would be allowed to select your volunteers, but since you have so little faith in your Empress, we will choose for you.”
At her signal the two black-robed figures began moving amongst the people, indicating various individuals as they went. Undead soldiers began pulling the selected away from their family or friends, dragging them off toward the towering factory. Women screamed as young men, hardly more than boys, were pulled away, fathers pleaded for daughters to be spared, but the silent, unliving creatures paid no attention.
“Once I have converted your volunteers into a proper undead state, they will be sent to the capitol to join the Legions to prepare for the invasion of Her Majesty’s next world; you who remain will be expected to reach your established quotas for next period, and there will be no more leniency if you fail again… and do not whine to me of being short-handed! You have no one to blame but yoursel—“
Her words were cut off as a dark violet beam of energy hit her in the chest, blasting her back into the crowd behind. An instant later Prometheus landed in the middle of the square, before the two back-robed lieutenants, who staggered back in surprise. The crowd scattered like water drops on a hot skillet as the other Earth heroes stepped through one of the Guardian’s portals and began decimating the ranks of the skeletal army.
Less than an hour later, the undead force had had their “un” prefix removed, Kürvasah’s two chief minions were beaten, bound and unconscious, and Kürvasah herself stood bound before the gathered heroes and a selection of the townsfolk. The later were led by a middle-aged, haggard-looking woman named Yadal, the governor of Braghva. Totem had found her hog-tied and awaiting a no-doubt grim fate in the factory, along with several other town elders, after the rather one-sided fight.
While they all were relieved to be delivered from that dark fate, they were not noticeably grateful. “What have you done?” wailed Yadal, summing up the collective thought as she obsessively wrung her hands, staring around at the former undead soldiers scatter across the town square. “The Witch-Queen does not suffer such rebellions lightly! You have saved a few, for a time, but you have really only doomed us all to massacre, and perhaps much worse, when Varina learns of this!”
“If you truly believe your are doomed,” Sabra said, her voice pitched to carry, “then perhaps it’s time you stood up and fought back – you may still die, I can’t deny it, but at least you will die on your feet, defending your own lives and the lives of those you love.”
“And after all,” added Totem, “if the penalty for a small infraction is the same as for a large one, what do you have to lose if you take the risk and try to win it all? If you fail, you’ll be no deader than if you tried; and if you win…”
Over the next twelve hours, until what passed for night on this world fell (a dimming of the glowing clouds to an ember-like hue), the humans helped the citizens of Braghva prepare. Even Kürvasah was brought around to help… it seemed she was as terrified of her queen as anyone else, and worried about the price of her failure here. If there was a chance of hiding it, and of these off-worlders at least giving Varina something more to worry about than a straying underling, than she’d take the chance.
While the others helped, repairing the town, building a better hiding cache for the pilfered supplies, and replenishing the fields, making friends in the process, Sabra, Yadal, and Kürvasah formulated a plan. In return, the natives provided what intelligence they could on Varina and her Citadel.
“Varina is preparing for the greatest invasion she has undertaken in a generation,” Kürvasah said at last. “It has always been her habit, in such times, to prepare herself by retiring to her Sanctum of Solitude to meditate and gather her powers. It will be your best shot at attacking her with none of her guards around her.
“The Sanctum is a pocket dimension she created for herself alone. It is accessible only through a magic mirror in her Throne Room… and while others may enter it, none who have done so have ever been known to return. I’m afraid I can tell you no more than that concerning it, though.”
That night, Totem learned another vital bit of intelligence while playing a game, very much like Parcheesi, with a little girl. Her family had offered him a place for the night, and the game was a relic, a family heirloom kept hidden for generations… a faded but beloved reminder of the times before Varina’s corruption of their world. The girl’s grandmother turned out to have been a servant in the Citadel of Suffering, until she became too old to fulfill her duties to Varina’s unyielding standards and had been cast out. She knew all of the hidden corridors within the edifice, used by the servants to perform their duties without ever disturbing the High Folks by their offensive lowly presence.
“With what she told me,” Totem said as they set out the next morning, “we may be able to bypass almost all of the Citadel’s guards up until the Throne Room itself, if we’re lucky.”
The Citadel of Suffering lay about 160 kilometers from Bragvah, as close as Sabra had dared to bring them when entering Varina’s realm. The eerie and depressing landscape of this dying world made for a very somber trip, as they were forced to travel on foot – both to minimize any chance of revealing their powers to dangerous observers, and to take the opportunity to lay more groundwork for rebellion. There were a surprising number of opportunities for that along the way.
Kürvasah and both her loyal lieutenants accompanied the heroes on the early stages of the four day journey, pointing them toward likely opportunities to find the rebel-minded, and not just amongst the cowed peasants. A shocking number of middle managers were ready to be convinced that their own self-interest might best be served by Varina’s absence.
Totem felt a little guilty about that, as it was unlikely they, or rather Sabra, would actually kill the evil monarch, even should the opportunity arise. Atara just wasn’t the bloodthirsty type, and their primary goal was the safety of Earth… if that could be secured without Varina’s death, she would be satisfied. But then he reflected that the Witch-Queen’s mid-tier lackeys weren’t really concerned about any freedom beyond their own freedom to try and take her place in the chaos, and he didn’t feel so bad. Besides, if the people did manage to free themselves, he suspected known collaborators might not fare too well afterward. He smiled briefly, until the sere landscape reasserted its depressing hold…
Their goal was a vast towering edifice of dark stone and black iron spires, which dominated a cacophonous, smoking, stinking metropolis that spread around it for 20 kilometers in every direction, except to the “east.” There a dead sea lapped sluggishly against the tower’s foundations. The city made 19th Century London, on its worst killer-fog day, seem like a sun-lit paradise in comparison. Representatives of the 998 other worlds Varina has conquered could be seen in the city’s narrow, twisting streets – mutated humans, elves, dwarves, lizard-folk, demons, clockwork beings… even a dragon. The heroes, even Prometheus, had no trouble blending in.
The five heroes rented rooms in a cheap dive not far from the Citadel (but not one of the ones Kürvasah had recommended – while both Sabra and Totem were convinced of her conversion to the rebellion, at least for as long as it looked like it had a chance of success, they saw no reason to trust blindly), and from there they scouted out the looming tower. It took another full day, during which at least one more spark was flicked amongst the straw by an escapade involving the Phantom Ace, the Guardian, a stable of unicorns, and a cuckolded husband; but they succeeded in penetrating the outer defenses and entering the Citadel of Suffering.
Picking mystical locks as they went, defeating powerful wards, and evading massive, demonic-looking guards, they eventually arrived at Varina’sSeat of Power, her Throne Room at the heart of the great fortress. There, at last, they were forced to fight, for the room was not unguarded and no servant’s corridor connected to its isolated splendor. It was a short, sharp fight, but they knew they were on borrowed time as the last of the demon-guards fell.
“Guardian, sent the message to the rebels,” Sabra instructed. “Time to send up the balloon and roll the dice, all the cards on the table… OK, I’m babbling. Let’s go!” With a deep breath and a determined raising of her chin, the Magus Prime of Earth shoved open the immense and massive, but perfectly balanced, doors of gilded ironwood and they stepped into Varina’s throne room.
It was an immense, empty open space, a circle of mirror-like, unadorned black marble walls, lined with a score of basalt pillars, each one the girth of an aged redwood tree and carved with writhing glyphs in some unknown tongue. Between each pillar stood black stands of twisted black iron, holding black candles two meters tall on which burned an ebony flame. That black light somehow managed to illuminate the obsidian floor, inset with arcane symbols in red marble, but the domed ceiling was lost in a shadowy vagueness far above.
Directly ahead of them and beyond the center point of the chamber was an oval dais of seven steps, alternating red marble and black basalt, atop which sat the throne. It was a massive thing, a pile of skulls — human, demonic, alien and animal — artfully arranged and gilded in gold. The seat was of a dark red leather, framed in twists and spikes of black iron, and very uncomfortable looking, Totem thought.
Behind the empty throne, set between two pillars in place of a black candle, was a large mirror, at least three meters tall and two wide. The dark glass was framed in twisting strands of silver and iron, and reflected the throne room in every detail, from flickering black candles to the gleaming golden throne… every detail except the five heroes.
“Well, that’s disconcerting,” the Guardian said as they rounded the dias and approached the mirror.
“It’s fucking spooky, is what it is,” the Phantom Ace said, looking spooked.
“OK, be prepared for anything,” Sabra said quietly. “As far as I can tell, she remains unaware of our presence, but I doubt any advantage the element of surprise might give us will last long. Is everyone ready?”
Her allies nodded and they followed her, two-by-two, as she stepped through the looking glass –
– and into a chamber the reverse of the throne room. This chamber was just as large, laid out in much the same way, but with a white marble floor, inset with green malachite, pillars of white sandstone carved to look like great tree trunks, and rich, golden flames flickering on tall white candles. The distant ceiling remained untouched by the light, but instead of shadowy darkness, it appeared to be a star-lit sky just after dusk. The encircling wall of white marble was lined with bookcases 3 meters tall, all crammed with countless books, scrolls, folios, almanacs, and codices – the pillaged learning of almost a thousand worlds. No throne was present, however – in the center of the room stood a large, ornate table with a dozen books and scrolls scattered across its surface and a single comfortable-looking chair next to it. A gilded cage with several small song birds flitting about within it stood next to the table.
Nor was there any exit to be seen. The Sanctum contained no analog of the mirror, and where the great double doors of the entrance should have been reflected, there was instead an alcove. It was set up as a sleeping or lounging area, filled with dozens of large cushions and pillows and draped in luxurious silks in rainbow hues. Asleep within it, or perhaps deep in mediation, was Varina herself.
Could it really be this easy? Totem felt uneasy. If she truly was unaware of them, a simple thrust of a knife could put an end to her threat permanently. But there was no chance at all that Sabra would strike down even her worst enemy in her sleep; and even if she did… the figure on the cushions moved, eyes flying open, head turning to smirk at the intruders.
“So, the great Magus Prime of Earth skulks into my bedchamber to slay me in my repose, like a thief in the night! How very heroic of you my dear!” Varina’s lips moved, but her voice echoed from everywhere in the room at once. As the heroes watched, her face began to twist, then melt, as if made of wax. Then, even as the booming, malicious voice continued, the simulacrum began to slowly crumble and collapse in on itself.
“You are too late, witless child. While you played in my garden, I strolled into yours. Without its Magus Prime to focus and define its mystical energies, Earth was mine from the moment I set foot there. You have failed, Atara Dayna. Everything Roland spent his lifetime protecting, you have betrayed in… how many days?
“Such a thoughtful gift you’ve given me, child, this beautiful world of yours, how remiss it would be of me not to give you something in exchange. My Sanctum of Solitude, my sacred place of rest and replenishment, only respects courage and power. I’m afraid the only way to escape it is through a sacrifice, dear child. So if you wish to come and contest with me, to try to take back your precious world… well, I’m afraid not all of your friends can make the trip.”
With a final diabolical laugh the simulacrum crumbled entirely to dust, which blew away to reveal a wicked looking dagger of simple iron.
After several hours of trying to find some way out of the trap they had so willingly stepped into, the heroes were forced to admit they were stuck. None of the books they searched offered a solution, at least none beyond the one Varina had already implied. None of their powers worked… all of Sabra’s spells seemed muted in the Sanctum, as were Totem’s, nor was he able to summon any of his Avatars; the Guardian could access neither his portals nor the dream dimension itself; Prometheus’ chest prism could barely emit a glow, much less a force blast, and his strength proved useless – he ripped out one bookcase, looking for a passage, and when they had turned back a few minutes later, it was as if it had never happened; and the Phantom Ace found both his teleportation powers and his ability to phase through matter were suppressed.
Sabra was pale and clearly shaken at how she had been played by the ancient sorceress. As the others had ransacked the library, looking for a clue, she had slumped in the chair in front of the table and closed her eyes. Deep in thought, or deep in despair? Totem wasn’t sure, and it worried him.
“I’m starting to think we might have to actually consider that bitch’s… dagger solution,” the Phantom Ace said at last, his voice raspy and curt. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he spoke, frowning as he rapped a scroll case unrythmically on the edge of the table.
“And how exactly are we going to do that,” the Guardian asked, his chin jerking up as he glared at the younger man. “Are you volunteering to be a sacrifice?”
“If it comes down to it, I think it is obvious that I should be the one in that role,” Prometheus said before Ace could retort. “I am a synthetic life form, with many fewer years of experience than any of you, it is only logical that—“
“Well, by that logic you have many more years ahead of you than the rest of us,” Totem interrupted. “So logically you would be the worst choice for a sacrifice. But in any case, we aren’t going to be killing anyone!”
“No, we are not,” agreed Sabra. She stood up and placed her fists on the table, leaning inward as she smiled thinly at her friends. “I’ve been considering our predicament, and what I know of Varina. She is a schemer, and a planner, and she likes to cover her bases. I doubt very much that she built this place without an escape clause, should she ever find herself trapped in here, and powerless. The way out must be, in a sense, “mechanical.” That is, a rote ritual that can be performed without magical skills.
“A sacrifice is a perfect example, but it would hardly make much sense as a failsafe, if she was the only person in here when she needed it. We’ve been assuming the sacrifice has to be meaningful, and therefore one of us. I suspect it really only has to be a life, any life.” She turned to look at the gilded bird cage and its half-dozen twittering captives.
“Does Varina strike any of you as the kind of person to keep pets?”
Sabra insisted that she be the one to make the “sacrifice,” although it was clear to her allies that even killing a bird was distasteful to her. “No,” she said when Totem assured her he was willing to do the job. “It was my rashness and overconfidence that got us into this mess, it’s my responsibility to get us out.”
She reached into the cage and a golden finch-like bird lit on her outstretched hand. Its obvious tameness dismayed her, but she closed her hand around the small body and withdrew it. She refused to use the dagger Varina had provided, however, and with a quick twist of her wrist she snapped the small creature’s neck.
Instantly there was a thrumming pulse of sound, and they all felt as if they were being pushed in every direction at the same time… then they were standing once again in Varina’s throne room, it’s eerie black light flickering around them.
“Guardian, can you open portals to the various places we planted our seeds of rebellion?” Sabra asked, after a puzzled glance at her now empty hands. “What’s going on out there?”
With a nod her ally gestured and several small portals opened in front of the group. Through them they could see the various places they’d visited in the past five days, from Bragvah to the Metropolis of Sorrow itself, and all were in turmoil as the flames of rebellion swept the realm.
“I wish we could stay to help them,” Sabra sighed as she took it all in. “But every hour Varina is on Earth without me there to oppose her, the odds of dislodging her grow slimmer. We have to return home now, and hope what’s happening here will be enough to force the Witch-Queen’s withdrawal… or weaken her enough for me to eject her from our reality.”
No longer needing to conceal their presence, Sabra unleashed her full power, opening a gateway between dimensions that led directly back to the Sanctum Primus and Earth…
As soon as the five heroes stepped through into the grand foyer of the mansion, Devaj was there to greet them, bearing a tray with five silver cups on it. His face was grim as he offered them to each person. “An Elixir of Fortitude, to revive you all after your ordeal. You have only been gone a little more than a day from my point of view, but if I remember my own time in that hell-world rightly, I suspect it has been rather longer for you all. Drink, you are going to need all your strength, I very much fear.”
Stepping outside the mansion’s doors, they stepped into a world gone mad. Looking west across Elder Island from the bluff on which the Sanctum stood to the city proper, they could see that the winter-gray clouds above New Atlantis had been replaced by the sullen, churning red and black clouds of Vaina’s dark realm. Their eerie light seemed to distort distance and perspective, and an overwhelming sense of dread seemed to envelope everything. To the east, far out over the Atlantic, a thin line of normal sunlight could just be made out… and vanished as they watched.
“It started over the Tesla Towers,” Devaj said, “about five hours ago, and it has been spreading at an accelerating pace ever since, according to the radio reports. At this rate it will cover the globe in less than 48 hours.”
“Not if I can help it,” Sabra said, rising into the air, her cape whipping about her. But the strained lines around her mouth, and her pale face, somewhat undercut the bold words. Nonetheless, with a gesture she magically lifted her four allies into the air around her. “Guardian, open a gate to Tesla Plaza, please. Devaj, guard the Sanctum – you’re our only back up!”
The old Indian nodded, and if there was any doubt in him, it never showed in his face. He raised a hand, whether in farewell or benediction it was hard to say, as the five heroes passed through the shimmering portal –
–to appear on top of the eastern tower of the two tallest buildings in New Atlantis, the twin Tesla Towers. Varina hovered in the air atop the western tower, and she laughed in delight as she spotted them.
“So, you managed to escape my little trap,” her voice boomed out, loudly enough that totem imagined the entire city could hear her. “Very good my little poppet, for all that it will avail you now. Already my claws are sunk deep into the fabric of this world’s magic, and soon enough it will be mine entire!”
“Damn, it’s true,” Sabra muttered to Totem. “I can feel her presence in the very essence of the planet’s magical field, pushing against my own control of it. She is effectively the Magus Prime of almost a thousand other worlds, and that may be enough to offset my advantage of being the legitimate Primus of this world.”
Totem could feel the tension in the aether himself, and he was sure the Guardian could too. Both were skilled sorcerers in their own right, and one-time candidates for the title of Magus Prime, and the clash of forces beneath the mundane surface of the world was tremendous.
“You will never wrest control of this world’s magic from me,” Sabra called across to her opponent. “Not unless you can best me in the Duel Magistiri, and I assure you, that will never happen. I am not the inexperienced child you seem to think me, you withered old hag!”
Varina’s eyes narrowed momentarily at that last remark, but she quickly laughed it off. “Oh, by my standards even that dotard Roland was a mere toddler… you, my dear, are barely out of swaddling clothes. But you are right about one thing – my absorption of this world will be ever so much quicker if I first defeat you under the ancient laws. With your death, at my hands, all this worlds power will become mine on the instant! So I accept your challenge to the Duel Magistiri, child!”
A blast of red light flashed out from her hands, and Sabra’s golden shield deflected it with ease. The Duel was formally begun.
“Varina, have you checked in with your Home Guard recently?” Sabra called out, unleashing her own blast of golden mystical energy, equally deftly blocked by the older sorceress. “You may find things not quite as you left them, grandmother!”
“Oh dear, you mean you’ve followed in your old mentor’s footsteps and sought to foment unrest in the center of my power?” Varina gave a positively vaudevillian gasp of horror and distress, before bursting once more into full-throated laughter. “Did you really think that ploy would work a second time? Please! Since Roland’s devious little stratagem I have distributed my power into a series of decentralized nodes across my domains. I rather doubt you’ve had enough time to infect more than one such, and I’ll throttle any rebellion quick enough on my return – which this time won’t be until after I’m finally master of this world!
“But I see you’ve brought champions to stand with you… very wise, I’m sure, and I’ll allow it. But then, of course, it’s only fair that I bring in some champions of my own.” Red light flared in two points behind and above the Witch-Queen, and through them snaked two immense dragons, one a red so dark as to be almost black, the other an equally dark green. Their roars shook the two towers, shattering half the windows on the top thirty floors, as they dove toward the humans.
Sabra ignored the beasts and shot forward at blinding speed toward Varina, sending out golden tendrils of power to wrap around the older woman, pinning her arms. The older woman shrugged and a burst of scarlet light tore the ropes apart. After that, Totem was too busy fighting for his life to notice much about the duel on the other roof.
His own spells seemed to have only minimal effect on the great creatures, but the weapons the Guardian summoned, from rocket launchers to rail guns, and Prometheus’ prodigious strength, seemed to impact them physically to good effect. Totem considered summoning Bear, but in this desperate fight he decided to take a risk, and summon the long-banished Eagle back. It proved a good gamble. The chastened Avatar was thrilled to be in the Outer World once more, and when he saw the enemies he was offered, he grew positively jovial.
In the ensuing battle of violet force beams, fire breath, rapid burst depleted uranium ammo, poison gas breath, and sonic claps, Eagle/Totem had little time to wonder where the Phantom Ace was in all the chaos. Only later would he learn that the kid had first teleported atop one of the dragons, hoping to phase within it and disrupt its brain or heart, only to find that both creatures were entirely resistant to his power.
Frustrated, and seeing that Sabra seemed to be taking a beating in the main event, he had teleported over to the other roof, and air-walked up behind Varina. So distracted by what she foresaw as her impending victory, the Witch-Queen apparently never saw him coming, and was blindside when he ghosted her into insubstantiality with him. Her spells faltered, for just an instant. In that instant a desperate Sabra had poured all of her mystical might into a single concentrated blade of power and lunged upward to pierce Varina’s shields… but the shields were suddenly gone, and the golden blade pierced the Witch-Queen’s body just below the ribs and slid upward into her heart.
Varina’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth forming an O of surprised disbelieve as she stared down at Sabra’s hand. Only a slight gurgling escaped her lips however, with a trickle of blood, before her eyes rolled back and her body began to age at a horrifying rate. Before either Sabra or Ace could fully grasp what was happening, Varina’s body had crumbled away to dust, drifting away on the winds.
With the death of their master, the two bloodied and dazed dragons disengaged from the fight with alacrity, and headed westward at tremendous speed. A problem for another day, Totem thought wearily… none of them were in any shape to pursue and renew the battle. And Sabra was in need of all their support, he saw.
The Magus Prime was standing on the far edge of the western tower, Phantom Ace a respectful distance behind, watching her in concern. She was staring out over the city as Varina’s dark influence rapidly vanished – overhead, the roiling clouds were evaporating to reveal a late winter afternoon, and the feeling of oppressive dread that had permeated the city had vanished the instant the evil sorceress had died.
“Sabra… Atara. Are you alright?” Totem asked gently, putting a hand on her shoulder as he stood beside her. She glanced over at him, and pulled her hood down. Her eyes were sad, but held no tears. She smiled ruefully at him and nodded her head.
“Yes, my friend, I’m fine. Surprising, really, but the truth is I’m OK with this. I didn’t intend to kill her, but let’s be honest – her death was the best possible outcome, for Earth certainly, and I suspect for all the poor worlds she’s ground under her heel for so long. Maybe that spark we started on Targanu will have a chance now to become a flame. If so, I’m willing to bear the price of being a killer.”
She sighed, then offered him a more genuine smile. ‘Come on, let’s get back to the mansion and see what Devaj—”
She was interrupted as a shimmering portal appeared in the center of the roof, and two of the hulking demon-guards they had seen in her Citadel stepped through. They were flanking a third, even larger and more baroque-looking demon in elaborate robes, who bore a large rosewood box. Everyone tensed, but none of the demons made a move to attack, and in fact stepped forward to kneel and bow their heads before Sabra. The Magus Prime looked… surprised.
“Lady Sabra, I am Verkin, formerly Regent to Varina, now envoy to you. In the Citadel we have seen your defeat of our former Dark Lady, the Witch-Queen, in the course of a true and binding Duel Magistiri. We come now to give you that which is yours, by right of magical law and ancient custom.” He opened the lid of the box he carried, revealing a simple silver tiara with a single white gem set on the brow. “You are now the rightful master of all that Varina once ruled, 999 worlds are yours to command… 1000, I suppose, if you already command this world. We hail you, Empress Sabra of Greater Targanu!”
Sabra looked as stunned as any of her companions, and she took an involuntary step backward from the envoy, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “But I don’t want her crown, nor her empire! I refuse these things. You are all free now, free to govern yourselves… you can decide to stay together, or each world can return to its own rule… you are free to decide!”
The envoy looked shocked, and his two guards glanced in dismay at one another, as Verkin bowed lower, touching his forehead to the ground in supplication. “My Lady, do you hate us so much? Do you blame the slaves for the crimes of the master? How have we so offended you, that you would condemn us to dissolution?”
“What? No, of course I don’t blame any of you… I mean, not in general… and I certainly don’t hate you! Quite the opposite, that’s why I, we, worked to set you free – so you could throw off the yoke of servitude and chart your own destinies again.”
“But it does not work that way, Lady Sabra,” Verkin said, a glint of hope in his coal-red eyes as he realized her misapprehension. “Varina bound all our worlds to herself, into one great Dark World with her at its heart, and now all are truly one. And such a Dark World, created in the way she created it, is dependent on a strong will to keep it bound. Without such a will, the worlds will not simply separate back into their component realities; no, they will instead begin to crumble and fade into nothingness. Already, before we left, reports had begun to come in that some of the outer lands had begun to fade…”
“How is that possible?” Phantom Ace said, looking confused. “She’s only been dead for ten minutes.”
“Time can run very differently in other dimensional realms, and not always at the same rate,” Sabra answered absently. “Verkin, are you saying that if I don’t take up Varina’s mantle of rulership, that 999 worlds will vanish, disintegrating into the Void? But the people…”
“It is possible that a few of the more recently integrated worlds might not suffer completed destruction,” the demon replied, after a moments contemplation. “Although they would certainly suffer some level of… disruption. But most of our worlds have been too long bound into Greater Targanu… my own world was the 17thVarina conquered. Without your will, and yours alone as the victor of the Duel Magistiri, trillions of beings will die, and soon.
“You say you wish us all to be free… if that is true, then consider this: a Dark World need not be dark. Such a construction takes on the emotional and moral tone of its Master, and in time a good ruler could return our corrupted realms to light and life. I do not know if they could ever be separated again, but your light could make them worth living in again…”
“Assuming such power doesn’t corrupt me, instead,” Sabra muttered. Verkin bowed his head in acknowledgment of the point, but said nothing.
“But, if you do this, if you take up rulership of the Dark World, how will you mange to also carry out your responsibilities as the Magus Prime of this world?” Totem asked.
“I couldn’t,” Sabra replied simply. “I would have to give up the mantle of Magus Prime.”
•••••••
“Which is what she ended up doing,” Totem said, concluding his verbal report to his teammates several days later. The entire current Vanguard roster, including associate members Prometheus, Dr. Froth and Paragon, were gathered in the main meeting room. Even Phantom Ace had made a rare appearance to add his take on the recent events to the official report.
“It took two days for her to make all the arrangements, to say her goodbyes, and to formally relinquish her title. But she’s gone now, removed with Verkin to the Dark World to begin the long struggle to bring it back into the light.”
“Then who is the new Magus Prime?” Artemis asked.
“No one, at the moment,” Totem replied. “The role has remained vacant before, of course, sometimes for years at a time. Not an ideal situation, the mystical energies of the planet tend to grow unfocused, and various… entities… can start to assert their will in sometimes unpleasant ways.
“But Roland was a powerful Magus, and he wielded the power for almost 80 years… it will take some time for his influence to fade. Devaj feels certain the Powers That Be will bestow the mantle on some deserving candidate before then.”
“What about you? Weren’t you once in the running for the job?” Scion asked.
“Yes, as was the Guardian. But both of us had impediments, and those impediments remain – Grant already possesses an important function in the arcane world as the Guardian of the Gates of Horn and Ivory —“ Totem ignored Quanta’s derisive snort from across the table “— and I am possessed of several Avatars of the Great Beasts. The Magus Prime must be undivided in mind and soul, and I’m not that!”
“Well, let us hope that someone appropriate takes up the mantle, then,” Artemis concluded the meeting. “And sooner rather than later. We have enough on our plate without worrying about escalating mystical problems…”
