The IX (62 page)

The Imperator was thrown to the floor.

Time to die
, Angule repeated in triumph.

Leaping forward, he drove his talons into the center of Vetis’s chest. Clenching his fist, he unleashed a knot of immeasurable cogency into his rival’s codex.

Vetis jerked and went rigid. Forked lightning erupted from multiple points all over his body. The ground beneath his feet liquefied. Bricks, dust, and mortar rained down about them, only to vaporize with a sputtering hiss.

Glowing like a nova, Vetis appeared to inflate on the end of Angule’s arm before blowing apart in an overwhelming release of energy.

Angule rocked in sublime ecstasy as he subsumed the full measure of his foe’s vitality.

And so it ends.

A sea of conciliatory nuances bathed Angule in a rare moment of pleasure.

Savoring them, he contented himself by drifting among the myriad tones of eclectic possibilities that were now free to present themselves for his inspection.

He would have been content to stay there for a full cycle, but the sound of a human woman sobbing drew him back to the reality of what still lay ahead.

*

“Mac? Mac? Can you hear me?” Ayria cried. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing I can do for you. Not here, not without any equipment.”

Her patient didn’t appear to hear, or was unable to respond.

In desperation, she turned to the Horde Masters. “Can’t you do anything? With all that power, are you telling me you can’t somehow infuse his body with life? Heal his injuries?”

An alien presence filled her mind. The larger of the beasts moved slowly forward, and Ayria received the impression of a name.
Angule.

Ayria Solram
.
While the more enlightened of the Kresh are able to counter our nature, and reverse the flow of energies that sustain us, I regret to say . . . it is impossible for us to regenerate wounds such as these. He hovers on the brink. Any infusion now would extinguish the wan flame that remains.
The thought-stream became tinged with sorrow.
A tragic waste, for this man was incredibly brave to even attempt what he accomplished.

Had Ayria not already been kneeling, she would have fallen to the floor.

But I’m going to lose him!

Numbed, she shuffled closer to the ruined shell. “Oh, Mac. I’m sorry. I wish you could hear me. I wish there was something I could do.”

The charred and bloody mess on the ground before her made a strangled, gargling sound, as if trying to speak.

She bent closer and put her ear to the cracked and bleeding excuse for his lips.
Help me understand what you’re trying to say,
she willed.

A weak gasp was the only reply she received.

Behind her, Houston snorted.

“Are you laughing?” Ayria rounded on him. “At a time like this, you dare to . . . to . . . ”

“You misunderstand me,” Houston retorted, “I meant no offence. But you forget. I can hear his mind. His reply to your concern was typically . . . stoic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Allow me.” Houston hunkered down on the floor between them. He placed one hand on Ayria’s head, and with the other, tried to select a place where he wouldn’t cause any further pain to the dying man. A difficult task, for Mac’s body was a mass of burnt flesh, covered head to toe in evil blisters and welts that oozed foul-looking pus.

Houston eventually placed tender fingers against a gaping sore on the side of Mac’s head. Turning to Ayria, he whispered, “Now speak to him. Quickly, for he is fading.”

“Mac? Mac, can you hear me?”

Yes, I can hear you. I’m dying, not deaf. There’s no need to shout.

Tears welled up in her eyes and blurred her sight. Such heroic reliance on humor to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation pierced her heart to the core.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even have anything for the pain. I wish . . .”

Hey, enough of that. Stop fussing. It’s my own fault. After all, only an idiot would ever dream of taking on a Horde Master with nothing but an axe, eh?

A cartoon sprang into her mind of a mouse, complete with mustache and beard, dressed in full Viking regalia, leaping through the air and swinging a double-edged battleaxe against the rear foot of an unsuspecting mastodon.

Talk about not thinking of the consequences.

In the vision, the mammoth, surprised by the suddenness of the attack, took an unexpected dump from a great height onto its unfortunate attacker.

Ayria burst out laughing, and the tears flowed.

Mac’s chest heaved, as if he’d caught his breath. A strange rasping sound issued from his throat, along with a froth of bloody bubbles.
What’s happening?
Ayria? I can’t feel . . . Are you there?
It’s . . .

He twitched, and took a shuddering breath. His hand shot out to grasp her sleeve.
Tell Jayden
 . . .
Tell Jayden I love her, will you? Tell he–

As Mac exhaled, an all-enveloping blackness rushed toward Ayria. His arm went limp, and Houston severed the link.

“He’s gone,” Houston whispered hoarsely, his face a mask of grief.

They sat there in silence, not knowing what to do or say.

Stained-With-Blood cleared his throat. “The time for mourning must wait. We have no choice. Our city is still besieged, and we now have the means to end this conflict within our grasp.”

Lifting Heaven’s-Claw into the air, he faced Angule and Raum. “I am a shaman of the Cree. A spirit-walker. One who travels what you call the Ix.” He gestured toward Ayria. “As is this woman. You called my star blade by a different name. Cryptogen. We must consult Napioa urgently, for we still need to learn how this . . . re-genesis is to be brought to fruition. What can you do to assist us?”

The Controllers communicated privately.

Angule’s crown flared to life.

The remains of the outer ward became filled with astral light as every surviving Master answered his summons. A resonating mental voice, full of authority, boomed forth:
Buer, Caym, Raum. Take Limun, N’Omicron, and Vual and bring the children of the third tier to heel. Remove them from the city at once, and return them to the Hall of Eclectic Spheres. All of them. Curb their frustrations, and induce the hibernat. They are not to be woken until this is all over.

Mamone’sh, Orias? You will remain with me as we attempt to parley with the human leaders.

Dismissing them, the Prime Catalyct turned to Ayria.
You are a prominent figure of this community. Do you think your kin will listen to our proposals?

“I don’t know,” Ayria replied, uncomfortable with the attention. “Virtually everyone is on the
Arch of Winter
now, and focused on a new life elsewhere. Whether they go or stay will depend entirely on your true intentions.”

True intentions?
Woman, it’s quite simple. Inform your commanders that if they lend us their aid, by this time tomorrow the conflict will be over. Forever!

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Re-Genesis

Saul Cameron counted off the faces of the people gathered around him at the table.

Mohammed Amine, Ayria Solram, Marcus Brutus, Shannon De Lacey, Ephraim Miller, Stained-With-Blood, James Houston — or at least, the entity inhabiting his body is here
—
a pilot by all accounts. And next to him, we have the avatars of Psi Calen and Gul Sariff.

Everyone stared at him expectantly.

That this extraordinary assembly should take place at all was a credit to the ambassadorial dexterity of Stained-With-Blood and James Houston, for they had skillfully overcome his initial reservations by highlighting the long-term benefits mutual cooperation would foment for everyone concerned.

That it should be held here, within the command center of the Ark, was a near miracle. Especially when Saul turned to consider the final members of the gathering.

I never thought I’d see the day when I’d let a living member of the Horde into this place. Let alone two of them.

Angule, the newly installed Imperator of the Kresh, stood off to one side with his assistant, Raum. Both were obviously fascinated by the sheer scale of the Ark, and acted as if they walked upon holy ground.

Saul had been apprised of their role in the ceasefire, and of their hopes for a permanent conciliation in the future. Although initially skeptical of their motives, witnessing the way they behaved around the historical remains of their race had only served to reinforce to him just how much was riding on his decision.

I suppose I’d better get this show on the road.

“Angule, Raum? Will you join us, please?”

As the two ogres walked across, Saul noted how relaxed everyone appeared in the presence of their former enemy.
They seem to have already made their minds up. Strange times indeed.

Once everyone was ready, Saul said, “Before I make my final decision, I want to clear up a few issues. Just to be sure. I hope you can appreciate that?”

He turned to Calen and Ephraim. “Gentlemen, I understand we have to open the Gateway for a final time. Now, from what you told me, the wormhole operates by exploiting a side effect of the rip-space theorem, yes?”

Both nodded.

“Well, Angule made it pretty clear earlier on just how dangerous that kind of manipulation is, so I’m sure you can sympathize with my reservations over inviting further mutations. Are you absolutely sure our venture involves an acceptable risk?”

“If I may?” Calen offered. “My originator developed this technology; therefore I am the best one to answer. Simply put, there is very little hazard involved. Rip-space travel involves the generation of a paired set of doors in spacetime. One side of it opens
here
, while the other opens
there
. The gap in between is ripped out of place, or pulled together as it were, so it no longer exists, creating almost instantaneous travel through subspace. It is this splicing of two different astrophysical locations that appears to conceive the genomic warping effect. The Gate is different. Although it forms the same artificial entry and exit points, the medium between is left intact. It remains tangible. A conduit, along which matter can flow without being subjected to any transmuting effect. Of course, an added safety feature will be the fact that we’re not going to actually send the Gate anywhere or anywhen. We’re going to coil it back on itself to form a simplified Möbius strip, and generate the power needed to trigger the re-genesis matrix.”

“Like a glorified particle accelerator or a self-sustaining dynamo. Yes?”

“Exactly right. That’s what makes this scheme so elegant. Although the city doesn’t have sufficient energy reserves to operate the system, this arrangement will literally sustain itself indefinitely. We’re very fortunate.”

“I see,” Saul replied, “thank you for the clarification. However, you touched on another aspect I wanted to get straight in my mind. How are we going to ensure the tunnel loops back on itself? We don’t want to risk any other poor souls being dragged here.”

Ephraim took up the explanation. “That’s easy. We’ll focus the targeting nodes on the origination point. Once the initial asperity opens, Angule, carrying a portion of Stained-With-Blood’s tomahawk, will position himself at the threshold of the singularity. As the secondary plane opens, the characteristics of the meteoric iron will blend to the unique features of Angule’s codex, and fuse a permanent link between the two doorways,
here
, at this location, until we deactivate the cycle.”

“And that won’t kill him?”

No, Commander Cameron,
Angule said.
That phase of the procedure will not harm me. Just the opposite, in fact. The puissance I will be subjecting my essence to will create an invigorating effect very similar to that of a spawning. Highly dangerous, were it not for how we propose to direct those energies.

“Ah, yes. I remember your description of the formula involved. Most ingenious. I must admit, I’m going to find
that particular stage a must-see event.”

Saul took a few moments to review his notes.

“Ah, there it is. I made a point of highlighting this final query, as you didn’t really go into that much detail about it. Would someone please tell me; onto what bio-frame are we going to bind the actual substance of the Ardenese race?”

Everyone looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Saul frowned.
Hello? Have I touched a raw nerve?

Aloud, he said, “I’m no egghead, but I understand enough to follow the basic principles. The Ark contains the remains of the Ardenese people, as well as a comprehensive stockpile of all its flora and fauna. That material will be used to provide the biological template for us to build on. The Horde, who were once corporeal, will furnish the life force, the tincture if you will, to activate the genome. However, if what I jotted down is correct, we still need to endow that mix with a living genetic host.”

The mood turned awkward. While most appeared ill at ease, Ephraim and Ayria in particular looked highly embarrassed.

“What aren’t you telling me? Because even I can see we need to bind the essence we’re going to create to the living DNA of a host.”

“That’s where I come in,” Ayria admitted brusquely. “I didn’t want to say anything as it will only cause arguments. I have to be the one to fill the final gap.”

“Why does it have to be you
and not a volunteer?”

“Because it would appear to be my destiny, Saul. Whoever steps into the matrix has to be able to walk the Ix, the spirit path chosen by the Creator.”

In answer to Saul’s look of incredulity, she said, “And before you start scoffing, just remember; Stained-With-Blood and I have been right all along. We
have
been receiving visions. Accurate, detailed revelations describing what must take place. The two races are
linked across time and space. And yes, it would seem the Old Man—or whatever you want to call him—
has
had a hand in it all along. Humans were brought here to save the Ardenese. The specifics of
how
, exactly, can only be discovered by a person capable of dream-questing.”