Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men (36 page)

Panic swelled in his throat, binding his limbs. It was almost too late. He fought it down, trying to warn her.

"Freeze, Doctor. Don't—"

It was too late.

Spae's fingers touched the crystal and virulent green light bloomed around her, encompassing her as the crystal surrounded its dark heart. Like that heart, she was still as stone.

Holger felt panic gnawing at his spine. Spae was frozen, as O'Connor had been. It was just like before, except it wasn't. He knew it couldn't be like before because Mannheim was dead, had been dead for three years now. And the damned crystal was smashed. Thoroughly, utterly destroyed. He'd made sure of that. "Destruction of a unique treasure," the
specialists
had said. And they meant
unique
, not simply rare, of
that
they had assured him. "Deplorable," they'd said.

But they hadn
't
been here—no!
there
—and the damned crystal shouldn't be
here.
But it
was
here. And Spae was trapped as thoroughly as O'Connor had been.

His nerves felt jagged, rubbed raw with broken glass. Everything around him stood in stark relief, like video effects without adequate dimensional compensation. The light from the faceted crystal threw Spae's lean shadow against walls and floor in sharp-edged, multiple images of his inadequacy.

But: one of those shadows was neither acute nor thin. Nor was it rigid. Hoiger's eyes tracked the motion as he calculated angles. Locating the apparent position of whatever cast the shadow, Holger turned toward it, machine pistol ready.

There was something there. A
presence
of some sort.

He almost tightened his finger on the trigger, but stopped himself. Whatever this was, it hadn't been there before. Maybe it could help Spae.

"You are unusually perceptive, for a creature of the dirt," said a disembodied voice.

No, not disembodied, for as his eyes adapted to the gloom away from Spae's glowing prison, Holger began to perceive a form. It was transparent as glass, its outline easier to see than any details; it was roughly man-sized and man-shaped,
but it was no man, transparent or otherwise. Its shoulders were humped and its lupine head thrust forward from the mass where the hulking shoulders met the mass of its neck. It was furred, and he could not tell if it wore any clothes. Despite its speech, he could think of it only as a beast.

Beast or not, the tint of green he perceived in the translucent creature matched that in the crystal, suggesting that it was somehow connected to Spae's entrapment.

"Release her," Holger demanded.

"You assume me capable of things beyond my power," the beast said. "For this moment, she must remain as she is."

Holger raised the Viper to his shoulder and snapped on the laser sight. The red targeting dot appeared on the wall behind the beast, but he put that from his mind and aimed as best he could. "I said, let her go."

"Threatening me will change nothing. Besides, if I were the key to her release, as you seem to believe, hurting me would not help her." Sharp teeth glinted in the gloom. "Time is the issue here, and time holds us all prisoner. An individual may only contrive escape for himself. You would do well to consider your own situation, for this locus is far more yours than hers." The beast shifted, but its motion was not threatening, so Holger didn't fire. "Time flows strangely here in the otherworld; and with time fluid, space must perforce follow. Moving in one is moving in the other. All is connected, though the paths may not be obvious. Do you remember this place?"

"Gibraltar." Hearing the truth in his own voice, he lowered the weapon from his shoulder. Sweat forming on his brow, he switched off the targeter. "The tunnel the workers found beneath the old armory."

"You remember it very clearly," the beast said.

Holger heard the soft pad of footfalls approaching from the darkened end of the corridor. His hands itched where flesh touched the warm plastic grips of the Viper. He knew what he would see if he turned around. He didn't want to look, but knew that he had to. Pivoting slightly, he kept his weapon pointed toward the beast while he turned his head to get a view of the corridor behind him. He saw what he had feared he would see: himself, moving cautiously along the corridor. O'Connor was right behind, gawking around like a tourist. Though Holger's image was as insubstantial as the beast's, O'Connor looked real and solid.

Had Holger come back to that time?

O'Connor and the ghostly Kun stopped next to where Holger stood. For the first time they saw the plinth and its deadly, deceptive burden. Apparently they couldn't see Spae pinned in the lambent light. The transparent Kun kept watch while O'Connor circled the waiting trap, examining it.

O'Connor was a specialist like Spae; he was the one supposed to deal with the weird stuff. Knowing about things like the crystal was his business. Holger's job was the physical security; and true to his training, the ghostly Kun steadfastly stood guard. Finally, inevitably, O'Connor stepped to where Spae stood and his hand reached out.

"No!" Holger wanted to shout, but the warning stuck in his throat. How could you change what was?

Hand overlaying Spae's hand, O'Connor's fingers contacted the crystal. Light flared, as it had. As it had. The floor shook, and deep rumblings growled through the surrounding stone. The floor around the plinth dropped away, making a moat of dust-filled darkness around the double-imaged, trapped mages.

"You know what's happening now, don't you?" the beast asked.

The words shocked into Holger's brain. He knew. He knew all too well.

Mannheim.

Mannheim always said you couldn't change anything you didn't tsy to change.

He hadn't been standing here watching himself stand in shocked paralysis before. That, at least, was difference. Maybe more could be different. Since Holger was here, maybe he
could
change it. How could he not try? Holger turned and ran down the corridor. Behind him, he knew his
image would still be staring in shock at the changes in the chamber.

Too slow, Kun. Too stupid.

Ahead of him the stone barriers were closing to block the archway; one falling from above, one rising from below. The shifting flanges ground to a halt as he reached them. Last time they had already been jammed when he reached them. The granite teeth of the upper and lower panels, fangs in a closing mouth, gaped open less than half a meter from full closure. He skidded to a bruising halt against them.

He stuck his head through to look down the corridor that had been there the first time, not the room through which he and Spae had passed. Mannheim lay where he and O'Connor had left him, wrapped in the thermal sheet, shocky but still alive. Mannheim's blood spattered the stone redly where the trap had caught him. The
thing
hadn't arrived yet. There was still time. Holger tossed his Viper through and started to squirm between the teeth. The pouches of his vest snagged, but he shoved harder until something gave with a rip, allowing him to force his way through.

He was untangling his feet when the
thing
arrived, its twisted visage as clear before his eyes as it was in his memory. It looked a mockery of a man, made by a sculptor with little skill and too much redfire in his veins. The
thing
rotated its head, scanning past Holger and turning the dark pits of its eyes on Mannheim's helpless form. Its lipless mouth cracked open in a grin that showed dark flinty teeth.

Holger popped a pouch and felt the grenade drop into his hand. If he was quick enough, there was still a margin of safety. Slipping his thumb into the ring, he popped it and threw. The explosion erupted just behind the
thing,
where its mass would help shield Mannheim. Holger might have done nothing, for all the effect it had on the
thing.
The
thing
stalked forward, intent on Mannheim's supine form.

Holger snatched up the Viper. He knew better, but there wasn't anything else to do. He fired, emptying the magazine.

No effect.

The
thing
leaned over Mannheim, reaching out a blunt-fingered hand to touch his forehead. Mannheim screamed. And screamed.

Beyond the screams Holger heard the running footfalls. He was coming. Too late. Too late.

His insubstantial self stuck his head through the opening and perceived the danger. Too late. There was no time to get through, only time enough for—

His image opened fire. The 5mm slugs ripped into the
thing,
tearing away chunks, but no wounds showed. For long, anyway. The surface of the
thing
shifted, flowing into and filling the craters. His image's bullets had no more effect on it than they'd had that day.

Mannheim's screams died away to a throaty gurgle. The
thing
was finished with its feeding. It turned cold, dark pits of eyes on the insubstantial Kun and smiled its dark smile.

Holger sat down hard. It had been hopeless. Tears he had thought long banished returned to wet his cheeks.

He heard himself crying and cursing as, a few meters away, his image tried to squeeze past the teeth. The ghostly Kun struggled until cloth tore. Like last time. He ran to Mannheim, but Holger knew what he'd find. He had found it before. The transparent Kun stood next to Holger, staring down at Mannheim's husk. Though the body was still breathing, and would go on breathing for almost a year, Mannheim was gone.

Deader than dead.

Again.

His image slumped to the floor, tears coursing down his cheeks. Holger felt a brief shock when the image overlaid him; then he was alone, staring at an empty stretch of corridor.

"So tragic. It need not be that way," the beast said.

Mannheim, Holger, and O'Connor came through the door at the end of the corridor. The cycle was starting again.

Another chance?

Holger forced himself to his feet. His image was the only one that did not look real. His own hand held before his face looked as solid and substantial as his former companions. He remembered the shock he'd felt when his image had collapsed in grief and touched him.

He walked up behind his image. A tentative touch brought a tingle. He stepped forward, standing where the image stood, and his whole body tingled as Holger blended with Kun. He went through the same motions. So easy, so familiar.

If he could direct the actions differently, he could take the trap, so Mannheim wouldn't be injured. Things would have to be different after that.

Holger walked beside Mannheim as he had that day. As they neared the trigger, he stepped forward directly onto the false stone in the floor, while his image turned away as he had that day. The tingle of separation rippled through him.

Moving through the space Holger occupied, Mannheim took the fatal step.

"You can't do it that way," the beast told him. "You are not in phase with them, for time still flows past you. You need the doctor's staff."

The rumble began. The stone balls shot from their tubes. The same one caught Mannheim in the same shoulder; it smashed muscle and bone again, just as it had before. The other balls smashed against the far wall, shattering into deadly splinters that ripped and tore. Mannheim went down in a welter of blood.

Helplessness draining him of all motivation, Holger watched as O'Connor and the ghostly Kun tended the injured Mannheim. He listened to their assurances and knew them false.

The beast spoke from behind him. "You know what will happen."

Holger spun to face it, screaming, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"You can do something about it. Change it."

"What can I do? I've tried! I can't change anything!"

They were back in the crystal's chamber. Spae was still locked in ice, but O'Connor's shape no longer overlay hers. The beast spoke.

"Take the staff. Accept the magic."

He hated magic. Magic had killed Mannheim. "No. No magic. It's not natural. It doesn't belong."

"But it does belong, it's the only solution.
His
only hope."

A ghostlike Holger Kun was just entering the chamber. Right behind him came O'Connor.

"Take Spae's magic," the beast said. "You can save Mannheim with it."

"You can go back to hell."

Holger pointed the Viper's muzzle at the beast and triggered a burst. The bullets went right through it to chip flakes from the stone of the wall. The beast laughed, while the ghostly Kun and O'Connor discovered the plinth and the cylinder.

Again.

O'Connor touched the crystal cylinder.

Again.

Holger emptied his magazine into the beast, screaming, "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" until his throat was raw.

His shouting couldn't drown out the screams from the exterior chamber. Kun's image ran back into the blackness of the corridor as the Viper clicked empty. There was no noise now to mask Mannheim's screams.