Stones: Experiment (Stones #3) (25 page)

R
yzaard stares into the empty hole in the floor under his desk. The place where he hid one of the implant prototypes. Stolen from its hiding place by Matt when he jumped to Ryzaard’s office a few days ago.

Matt was either reckless or desperate. Either way, it reveals the actions of a young man sorely lacking in common sense, a young man that may already be dead.

If only Ryzaard had been there to meet him. The two of them might have had a stimulating conversation ending with the utter pleasure of killing the young man with his own hands.

The implant isn’t a great loss. Ryzaard had tested it, first on Little John, and then on the two children. The devices turned out to be defective, no doubt due to their defective origin.

The Lethonen.

Which reminds him. It’s time to have a little conversation with the poor bastards.

A necessary, but distasteful, task.

He picks the jax off the desk and plays his fingers along its side. “Alexa, I have some important business for the next few hours. See that I’m not disturbed.”

Her voice jumps out of the jax. “As you wish.”

The lock engages on his office door.

Ryzaard drops the jax on the desk, slips off his tweed jacket, kicks off his shoes and stands facing the window. Sitting on a wood platform with a cushioned top, his hands fold together in his lap, and he lets his eyes drift until they come to rest on the Brooklyn Bridge.

After five minutes of watching his breath, his eyes close, and he is immersed in a vast darkness. The world shifts. A sense of heaviness settles upon him, as if gravity itself has been turned up, pulling his body deeper into the cushion.

Audible movement stirs nearby. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck rises up. Sweat beads on his forehead, and a subtle chill passes through his body. Uneven voices, high and low frequencies, flow past him, forming a loose chorus. It slowly condenses into a single voice, clear and low.

We are here.

Ryzaard’s eyelids sag. With effort, he forces them open and looks straight ahead in the darkness.

A humanoid form floats in the emptiness before him, its shape familiar to Ryzaard. It wears no clothing, and is little more than a flowing mass of black and gray particles with a shifting outline. Other than dark depressions where one would expect the eyes and mouth to be, the face is devoid of features.

The lights of the Brooklyn Bridge shine through the semi-transparent figure.

Ryzaard hears its voice in his head, a multitude of sounds running together. He steels himself for the encounter.

Why have you called us?

From past experience, he knows that, when dealing with the Lethonen, it’s always best to begin with an argument. To act rather than react.

“Why have you deceived me?” Ryzaard stares straight ahead.

The entity’s face comes together into a definite form with a hard outer skin. The rest of its body remains fluid and undefined.

We do not understand.

Ryzaard pulls two Stones from his chest harness. His eyes drop as he turns them over and over in his hands, admiring their beauty, flaunting them before the entity floating in the darkness. Tossing the Stones up and down with careless abandon, he throws out a taunt.

“Do you really
want
the power?” Ryzaard says. “I could give it to you now.”

Give us the power. We want it all.

The entity morphs into multiple layers, pulling apart like the pages of a book. Dozens of eyes appear in its head, each tracking the Stones on their upward and downward trajectory in Ryzaard’s fingers. Numerous hands form at its side and shoot out, trying to catch one and pull it away, but the Stones fall through them as though they are mere vapors of smoke.

Ryzaard grasps the Stones and closes each of his fists on them, holding them fast, slowly bringing his gaze up to the entity.

Brace yourself,
he thinks.

He clears his throat. “I want to give you the power, as promised. But you will never have the power if you continue to deceive and manipulate me.”

The entity disintegrates in an explosion of purple and red fragments that shower on either side as Ryzaard sits on the cushion. It re-forms into a hideous head, horns and fangs sprouting from an eyeless skull, a high-pitched shriek emanating from deep inside the grisly cranium. The rest of its body loosely forms into arms, legs and a trunk, all of it a gesticulating mass of chaotic movement. It lurches forward with a gaping mouth, threatening to engulf Ryzaard in one gulp.

His muscles tense, and it takes great effort of will to suppress the urge to scream, panic and hide.

“You know the truth. You can only access the power of the Stones through me. But destroy me if you like. Then the power you crave will be destroyed with me.” He replaces the two Stones in his harness.

The entity stops only inches from Ryzaard’s face. The smell of burnt sulfur in his nostrils is overpowering.

We need the power.

“Then stop hiding the truth from me!”

The truth?

“Yes, the truth. Other worlds, other Stones, other Holders more powerful than I. You lied. You never told me.” Ryzaard straightens his spine and braces himself. “You and the
Allehonen
are
not
the only ones out there.”

The entity resolves into a humanoid shape. It has a smooth outer skin, metallic, like foil. The arms, legs and torso take on a definite form. Claws burst through fingers and toes. A bony ridge bulges through the forehead and works its way down the entire back of the skull and spine. Tiny spikes burst through the surface of its entire body. The eyes glow deep orange.

Do not speak that name.

“Then tell me now,” Ryzaard says. “The Alleho—” He stops himself mid-sentence. “The
Others
are of no concern to me. I know what they offer, nothing more than an ideology of weakness, servility and subjection. False hope.” He raises his arms to the creature writhing in the darkness. “But today I saw a woman with many Stones, and now I know the truth. Holders live on other worlds, flesh and blood, who wield the power of the Stones. Tell me of them.”

The humanoid shape breaks apart into layers. Multiple voices, high and low frequencies, clamor for attention. Could it be that the plural entity is arguing with itself? The conversation has the quality of recorded words, sped up and played in reverse.

Ryzaard begins counting.

By the time he reaches ten, the layers of the entity collapse into one. Its orange eyes stare at the Stones on Ryzaard’s chest.

When you grow strong, we will teach you of the secrets of the power.

Ryzaard shakes his head. “I
am
strong. Future promises are of no value. I want to know
now
.”

Reaching up to his chest harness, he pulls out a Stone in each hand and raises them to the creature, palms open. “I’m losing patience. Let me be clear.
This
is power. I have it. You do not. If you want it, you will only get it through me. Now answer my questions.” The Stones glow deep purple in his hands.

The entity splits into two, then four, then eight separate shapes, surrounding Ryzaard. Each of them shriek and reach out trembling fingers to the Stones, their arms growing longer, their mouths gaping open, black teeth growing into fangs. A churning maelstrom of wind flows past him. The hair on his head rises and his clothes billow in and out. The stench of sulfur fills his nostrils again.

Give us the power.

Ryzaard looks at the floating shapes. “Not until you answer my question.” He turns his hands and lets the Stones drop to the floor.

The shapes reel backward, collapsing like an accordion into one form directly in front of Ryzaard. The claws and fangs diminish in size until they are gone, and the spikes and outer skin dissolve away, leaving the same churning entity of particles and multiple voices.

You will not understand.

“Try me,” Ryzaard says.

We will show you.

“Good.” Ryzaard picks the Stones off the floor, one in each hand. “I’m ready.”

The entity moves forward until its fingers touch Ryzaard’s forehead. The floor beneath him falls away, and he floats in utter blackness.

Many worlds.

Ryzaard swims in an ocean of almost infinite points of light, each distinct and clear against a dark background.

“Yes, I know.” Ryzaard yawns. “I’ve seen it before. The universe. Infinite and majestic.”

Not infinite.

A force pulls Ryzaard forward. The points of light turn to streaks shooting past him. The lights thin out until only one dot remains. Speeding toward it, it fills his entire field of vision.

Near its surface, Ryzaard sees what it is. A fiery star.

He passes deep into its interior where a burning inferno rages about him. Layers of colored plasma move by, and he sinks closer to the core. As time passes, he drops through magnitudes of size until the sea of fire resolves into dancing particles, floating like icebergs.

“Hydrogen atoms,” Ryzaard says. “The stuff in the heart of stars.”

No.

Multiple voices filter into his ears.

Your atoms are an illusion. Witness reality.

He falls toward a single particle and becomes a speck on its endless surface before it sucks him under. As he passes through its outer boundary, all light vanishes, plunging him into an intense black void. For a moment he wonders if he is still in his body.

Worlds within worlds.

As if on cue, a million pinpricks of light pop out of the darkness. A new universe.

Ryzaard stares in wonder.

The power of the Stones is the key.

“The key to what?”

The key to freedom.

“I don’t understand.” Ryzaard says. “Why must you speak in riddles?”

Without the power, there is an end. With the power, there is no end.

And then it hits him.

The Stones hold the power to move between universes. Every particle in every universe is a portal to another universe. Without the power of the Stones, one is forever trapped in a single universe. A large place, to be sure, but ultimately finite. Only with the Stones can one escape a finite universe to a chain of universes that never end.

It is too small. We need infinite space and matter. Like the Others.

So that’s it. Ryzaard has learned something.

The Lethonen crave the power of the Stones because they’re trapped and wish to escape. Knowing they will never move beyond a single universe is claustrophobic. An end to growth and expansion. An end to real power.

The entity withdraws its hand from Ryzaard’s head. The sea of pinpricks vanishes. The floor of his office comes back into view.

“You still haven’t answered my question. There must be many Stones. Tell me about the Stone Holders.”

Many worlds. Many Stones. Many Holders.

More riddles.

Ryzaard thinks for a minute. Perhaps the best way to get answers out of the entity is to ask specific questions.

“Does each world have Stones?”

The Others have made it so.

“The Others place Stones on all the worlds they create?”

Like seeds.

“How many Stones per world?”

We do not know. Some more. Some less.

“Is it possible to collect Stones from multiple worlds?” Ryzaard thinks again of the woman he met on the field of the freedom camp outside of Vancouver, the one with dozens of Stones in a belt on her waist. “Has it been done before?”

The entity hesitates, as if it is about to divulge a great secret.

You have seen her, and you already know.

“I’ll take that as a
yes
. But tell me, are there Stone Holders out there in the universe,
this universe
, possessing Stones from dozens, or even hundreds, of worlds?”

The entity freezes.

“Tell me.” Ryzaard’s voice is low, barely a whisper. “Tell me now, or I swear upon my mother’s grave, you will never see the power of the Stones. Do you want to be stuck in this universe for all eternity?”

He expects the entity to fly into a fit of blind rage. He’s not sure if it has the power to kill him, but killing Ryzaard will cut off its access to the Stones in his possession. It will have to wait until others take up the Stones and are willing to share the power.

Ryzaard gambles that the Lethonen won’t take that path.

And he is right.

As if in recognition of defeat at the hands of a mere human, the creature bows its head.

Many Holders with many Stones from many worlds.

“I thought so. The woman I met with an entire belt of Stones is just the tip of the iceberg, isn’t she? Others with even more Stones fill the universe. You know this, don’t you?”

We know.

Ryzaard bows his head in response. “One last thing.” He leans forward, moving closer to the entity. “It’s possible for me to obtain all the Stones of a massive Stone Holder, isn’t it? All I have to do is kill them.”

It is possible, if you have the power.