The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (41 page)

I swallowed the last of my boar and forced a
smile.

* * *

“Awfully dark in this alley,” I whispered, as
I watched the shadows from moonslight seeping through the deserted
towers alongside us flicker across Robert’s bare back. “You sure
we’re going the right way?”

Robert waved us a few yards forward and
stopped at a structure that was decrepit as well as deserted. A
wooden sign hung from a single chain, swinging rhythmically with
the biting wind that had eroded the painted scarlet letters til
they were almost too faded to decipher.

“Ambrosia,” Spud ventured, his vision and
interpreting faculties, as always, surpassing mine.

“Never fear, we are here,” Robert announced,
his words a reverberating echo that made both Spud and me do a
quick 360 scan to make sure we hadn’t been followed. Robert opened
a squealing oak door and led us into a dimly lit hallway,
illuminated only by remnants of simmering candle wax hanging
precariously from tarnished holders along the peeling walls.

“And where exactly is that?” Unless this was
a secret tunnel into Valholler, I wasn’t optimistic that we were
making progress towards our Plan B.

Robert paused before a splintered door,
brightened only by worn patches of reddish paint. “Before we
concede defeat, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” he said with
a grin as he shot out an arm to open the door, and stepped aside to
let us through.

Oh, my. Before us was a large cavern,
rainbow-tinged stalactites and stalagmites dripping blue liquids
onto a smooth, slippery floor. Across from our entry stood a tall,
wizened, gray-bearded man, dressed in azure and gold robes, wearing
a long cone-shaped hat that displayed several recognizable
constellations. From
our
universe. In his right hand, the
old man gripped a Geryon, the facile tool that my former classmates
Setsei and Suthsi had used to help us escape the clutches of
Benedict and his minions not so long ago.

Robert waved at the cave’s tenant. “Marlin,
darlin’.”

I tossed an eye roll at Spud before facing
Robert with hands on hips. Gently. “Merlin? Really, Robert? He
looks like he just walked off the set of “Fantasia”. And, anyway,
didn’t you promise us there wouldn’t be any wizards in Az?”

Robert shrugged off my irritation. “No need
to wince. You know I’m not a prince.”

A deep chuckle from across the cave, as
Marlin, eyes twinkling, started ambling towards us. “’Do not put
your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save’. Psalm
146:3, right?” Marlin stopped before us and extended his arms in
welcome, adding, “Though I have advised Robert that he might
rethink his habit of being annoying. Not everyone humors his humor,
as his rhyming penance amply demonstrates.” The wizard’s accent
sounded vaguely Scottish, with a hint of American.

“So, are you the Wizard of—I mean the Vizier
of Az,” I grumbled.

Another guffaw. “Oh, good heavens, no.” He
removed his hat to release and shake out his silver shoulder-length
locks. “Hardly. Though I do admit I’ve known my share of Viziers in
my days. But, inevitably, the bloom falls off the polished apple,
and one can only survive if one moves on.” A long sigh. “I
have
been trying to change my behavior these last few
hundred years, instead of falling in with the same type of bad
apples over and over. At my age it’s getting harder and harder to
go on the run at the end of our run.”

“Looks like you ran from our universe.” I
added, nodding at the hat in his hands.

“Oh, dear,” said Marlin, shaking his head, “I
did forget to change my hat this morning. One of these days I’ll
forget my own brain.” He looked up at each of us, one at a time.
“And what brane are we in today?”

“I theorize Brane 5,” said Spud. “But that
remains to be seen. Tell me, Marlin,” he continued, “was Julius
Caesar or was King Arthur your crowning ‘vizier’?”

Marlin’s eyes narrowed. “I preferred Iulius
Kaisar, frankly. Much more sure of himself—less wishy-washy.
Consensus isn’t always the best management style, as my old friend
Machiavelli used to say. But you’re a clever fellow, now, aren’t
you? Somehow, you remind me quite a bit of Lancelot.”

“Not a bad call sometimes,” I muttered
sotto voce
, earning glares from Spud and Robert.

“Your speech reveals tenures in Imperial
Rome, medieval England, rural Wales, and 20
^th
century
New England, among other traits. Even without knowing your name,
the deduction is simple.”

“And sometimes he’s just showoffalot,” I
said, louder.

Marlin, and the others, ignored my crack.
“Ah, my name, truly a cross to bear. Do you know that the Welsh
made it sound like a French curse? My brethren never had this
problem. But, as I chose to swim alongside humans, I have only
myself to blame.” He cleared his throat. “And who is to blame for
your exile in this Purgatory?”

“My brother. John. John Rush,” I dived in. He
disappeared three years ago,” more forcefully, “working undercover.
We think he might be a prisoner in his brane--this brane.”

Marlin’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m
sorry about that, young lady. But I’ve heard nothing in the winds
about a John Rush.” A twinkle in his rheumy eyes. “Is that all you
desired from me, I expect, considering my age?”

“Uh, not exactly.” I took a deep breath,
trying not to giggle at his implication. “We’d like to get into
Valholler, Without dying in battle. Maybe some disguise? Can you
help us?”

Marlin frowned. “Ooh, now that may be a
challenge. I don’t know that I’m able to—“

“Well, seeing as you’re a wizard, after all,”
I interrupted, nodding at the spear in his hand.

“’Tis a Geryon, Shiloh,” Spud whispered. “How
much of a wizard was our Suthsi?”

Oh. Spud had a good point. My former
Mingferplatoi Academy classmates, the Ytran meiotes Setsei and
Suthsi had no ‘powers’ without their Geryon. Did Marlin?

“Must you puncture my delusions of wizardry
with your Geryonic intellect,” Marlin growled at Spud, adding in a
softer tone. “I have an image to protect.” He tilted his head at
Robert.

Robert looked confused, “The conversation at
hand, I don’t understand.”

Feeling a twinge of empathy for the old
magician, I jumped in, misdirecting with enthusiasm. “Look, Marlin,
why don’t you take your magic wand here,” I pointed at the Geryon,
“and dress us up in some costumes that’ll get us through. Like
battlefield armor?”

A smile. “Now why didn’t you say so. Of
course I can arrange that. But, I have a better idea. I knew my
days riding Níðhöggr the Dragon would come in handy
.
With
these outfits they won’t dare turn you away.” Merlin aimed his
Geryon at Spud. “You first. This’ll just take a minute.”

I had a momentary flash that maybe we
shouldn’t have been so naive. Sure, Geryons could anamorph our
external appearance, but with the right—or wrong—manipulation, they
could also stun or kill us.

“Wait!” The cry came from Spud. He stepped
off to one side, holding up both hands. “Just take those rocks over
there and anamorph them into costumes instead, all right? We can
dress ourselves.”

“All the world isn’t made of faith and trust
and pixie dust, eh?” Marlin smiled again and genially turned his
Geryon towards the pile of rocks a few yards away from his golden
pointed shoes. In a second, the rocks’ molecules had been
rearranged to form colorful robes and hairpieces for us to don.

“No, not in my universe,” said Spud, reaching
for the Geryon. “You know, I think we shall also need new pairs of
shoes. Would you mind if I added a finishing touch?”

Marlin’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but, to
my surprise, he handed the Geryon to my partner. “As my friend Ben
Franklin used to say, ‘Trust thyself, and another shall not betray
thee.’”

Nodding, Spud aimed the Geryon at a few
remaining pebbles near the pile of clothing. I stepped back a
couple of inches. Handling a Geryon well took a lot of practice—was
Spud really qualified to use this uncommon tool? I hoped so, for
all our sakes. As our eyes were trained on the ground target, Spud
swung the Geryon around and pointed it at Marlin’s head, activating
it. The wizard’s skin and hair began to melt and diffuse into a
sparkling mist that formed a halo around Marlin’s upper body.

I gasped. Underneath the grey locks and the
wizened features, we began to see shiny scales that adorned the
smooth face, eyes, and mouth of a giant fish. Marlin was a
Glieser!

Among the many lessons we’d studied at
Mingferplatoi Academy, at least for those of us who were
non-telepathic, was Interspecies Cultural Communication. Sure, it
meant uploading Zygan and a host of other languages into our brains
and not just into our Ergals. But it also meant learning to read
the signals across species. For example, if you’re chatting with a
Chidurian, who basically resembles a giant crab, how do you know
when he’s happy or, well, crabby? Some Scyllian species and other
canines have these heartbreaking sad eyes, even when they’re
‘walking on air’. And, most Rigellians literally walk on air—but
only when they’re angry! So, Spud and I had to call up our Academy
memories to recognize that Marlin’s piscine features were
registering a mix of fury and disappointment. And a lack of
oxygen.

“Just wanted to confirm my theory,” Spud
admitted, as he moved the Geryon away, restoring Marlin to his
panting humanoid form. “Your lifespan is not unique for a Zygan.
But one question remains.” He raised the Geryon again, and we all
jumped back another foot.

“The aqueous world is the world’s womb,”
Marlin finally spoke in a hoarse whisper, “but it is the Gliesers’
cage. I so envied our Coelacanth cousins that had escaped the
water’s clutches and tasted the dry dirt and the fresh air. I
spotted the Geryon among the wreckage of an Ytran cruiser in the
Kepler 5b backwaters, and thought I could barter it for a ticket to
a Glieser starship, and a chance to explore the world beyond. It
was only when I started to fiddle with it that I realized it wasn’t
a toy, and that its many powers included shape-shifting.” Marlin’s
eyes sparkled as he cast a loving glance at the spear-like weapon.
“I no longer needed to see the universe from the inside of a
Glieser aquarium. I could be free to travel through the air with
this Geryon that’s rarely left my side.

“You sound like my brother,” I said,
snorting. “Only he wanted to escape the cage of dry land and an
oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. The grass always looks greener in Level
3.”

“It is a truism, but, as truisms go, it’s
true. We cannot escape ourselves. God only knows I have tried.
Again and again.” Marlin waved an arm at the stalactites above our
heads. “And yet, here we are. Isn’t this a lovely cage?” Were those
actual tears in his bloodshot eyes?

“Indeed, Marlin, here we are,” Spud conceded
before returning the Geryon to Marlin.

“Purgatory has never looked better, but we
have Heaven and Hades in our sights,” Spud added, motioning for us
to pick up the clothes. “Thanks for the Geryon. Shiloh, Robert,” he
winked, “let us carry on.”

* * *

Valholler—present day

Which is how three Valkyries arrived at
Valholler’s gates, their long flowing horsehair extensions whipping
in the wind, their long flowing robes hiding the stuffing
strategically placed to make my two male companions, Spud and
Robert, sport C-cups. When you use a Geryon rather than an Ergal to
anamorph, you have to improvise.

I hadn’t expected to face the leers we got
from the thousands of warriors as we walked softly and nonchalantly
down the red carpet towards the massive iron castle doors. I’d have
to take the bullet for my team if the soldiers got pushy, as they
might be put off by Robert and Spud’s male anatomy. On the other
hand, since women here weren’t exactly a common commodity in the
encampments of these horned warriors, maybe I was worrying too
much. Glad I thought to bring along a big stick as a staff, just in
case one of them decided to mount…a campaign in my direction.

The sentry at the castle entry asked for our
names as we approached. “Fagrskinna, let us inna,” said Robert.

I stifled a giggle. A fitting Norse narrative
name.

“Heimskringla,” followed Spud, lifting the
name of another Norse saga. Now what was the one
I
was going
to use…?

“Kriskringla,” I erupted, flashing a warm
smile and waving my “staff”.

“At the behest of the vizier.”

The guard frowned, then looked down and spoke
into a gold medallion hanging on his chest. A comm device,
obviously, but awfully advanced for this awful place. That didn’t
bode well—medieval values with modern technology? And we only
armed…with our arms?

We stood anxiously in silence for a few
minutes before he spoke again, and, unlatching an enormous set of
iron keys from his belt, unlocked the doors to let us in. “Gunner
will see you now.”

I smiled, and led the guys into the castle
foyer. As the door closed behind us, leaving us isolated in the
empty lobby, Spud whispered, “Gunner is the Valkyrie of War.”

My smile disappeared. “And I don’t like being
a sitting duck. Let’s get moving. Robert, where’s the royal court
and this vizier guy?

Robert stood in the foyer with a confused
expression as we tried to pull him to one side into the shadows.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been here before,” I groaned.

“I don’t know what to tell ya, it doesn’t
look famellya,” he returned, as a giant plume of smoke erupted in
the middle of the entrance hall.

“In here, hurry,” Spud whispered as I spied a
seven-foot woman with Medusa hair and a Xena body appearing inside
the mist. Grabbing Robert, I dragged him through the doorway, and
signaled to Spud to close the door.