torg 01 - Storm Knights (23 page)

These thoughts flashed through Thratchen's mind, for the trip — from his perspective — lasted no more than a few seconds. Then he was standing on solid ground. It was raining. Thratchen hated the rain. That was the worst part of raiding other cosms — it always rained as a result of your arrival.

He looked around, immediately bringing his senses — natural and enhanced — to bear on his surroundings. But a quick scan told him that Mara was not within a dozen kilometers of his location. He should have foreseen that, Thratchen realized. The transference cylinder and cyberdrive had been calibrated for someone much smaller and lighter than he was. He could have been thrown thousands of miles off course.

"The price of rash actions," he muttered as he checked his body for damage. All his parts seemed to be in the right place.

The Sim examined the area he found himself in. He was in an antiquated technological culture, at least from the type of ground and buildings he saw. But his sensors told him he was in an even less advanced axiom zone. It was primitive, and in most circumstances he would not be able to use his equipment here. But Thratchen was no ord who would easily flip to the dominant axioms. No, he could retain his own reality, and he intended to do just that.

Two creatures approached him. Before he could determine what they were, the creatures raised sharp spears and rushed toward him. Without any regard, Thratchen mentally activated his built-in leg holster. It snapped open, giving him instant access to his smartgun. The weapon flew into his clawed hand and fired once, twice, three times. The creatures fell.

"Edeinos," Thratchen said, finally identifying the lizard men. He saw a maelstrom bridge in the distance, rising out of the ruins of some kind of arena and disappearing into the clouds.

"I'm on Earth. And the invasion has started. But how could I ." Thratchen stopped. He knew how. Mara. The wretched whelp had not only determined a raid was coming to her world, she had discovered the major plot to take this possibility-rich planet as well.

"That's why she's here. She's come to help them."

At first Thratchen's rage was terrible, but then an idea began to form. He left the rage where it was, saving it for another time, for the idea had to take precedence.

"I'll never find her without help, though. And since my master hasn't arrived yet, I'll have to go to a higher authority."

Thratchen headed toward the bridge.

72

Kurst hurried through Illmound Keep. He had been summoned by the Gaunt Man, and he knew that to keep the master waiting was to invite punishment. Shoving past servants, Kurst entered the great hall of the keep.

The Gaunt Man stood on one side of a huge banquet table that occupied the center of the hall. With arms spread, he leaned on the table and studied the maps before him. Scythak lounged indolently catlike and aloof in one of the carved, oak chairs that had been pushed away from the table. On the other side of the table from the Gaunt Man stood a demon from Tharkold. The skin of the demon shone blue-black in the light that came through the many-paned windows of the hall. He wore a black leather tunic. Chains completed his en-

semble. Kurst also noted the many mechanical implants that covered the demon's body.

"Ah, Kurst," said the Gaunt Man when he noticed the hunter waiting midway between the door to the great hall and the banquet table. "Come in."

The Gaunt Man waved a hand in the general direction of the demon, and said, "Meet Thratchen. He served the High Lord of Tharkold as a chief lieutenant, but was stranded on Kadandra when that world actually managed to destroy the maelstrom bridges."

Without speaking, but with heightened attention at this new development, Kurst moved to stand near the table. He heard Scythak give a faint, mocking snort. Thratchen merely parted his lips, displaying pointed, yellowed teeth. Kurst wondered if the demon was smiling at him in greeting or threatening him. He assumed it was a threat and that Thratchen was establishing himself in the pecking order of the Gaunt Man's cadre. Kurst didn't care. As one of the Gaunt Man's hunters, he stood outside the chain of command. The threat was wasted on him.

"Tell us what happened on Kadandra, Thratchen," the Gaunt Man said.

"I can tell you about that. They lost," laughed Scythak deprecatingly.

The Gaunt Man eyed the demon, watching for any reaction that would expose him as weak or foolish. Kurst did so, too, but saw no sign of anything other than confidence and power.

"My master planned well," Thratchen said. "Everything was done as it was done so many times before. It was done as you taught us, High Lord, when we served in your cosm. But we could not anticipate that the Kadandrans would be ready for our arrival."

Kurst saw Scythak sit up at that, but the Gaunt Man remained impassive.

"The blame for our failure can be traced to one stormer, and I was sent to find and destroy this stormer before she could do more harm."

"Explain yourself, demon," demanded the Gaunt Man.

"Among the Kadandrans was a young woman — a prodigy, if you will — who proposed a theory that explained the cosmverse. She took her theory to its next step and designed an instrument for looking into other cosms. The one she chose to examine was a cosm very similiar to her own. It had similar axiom and tech levels, a similar history. But where her world had gone on to become a peaceful place, the cosm she found was the exact opposite. It was Tharkold."

The demon went on to explain how the young genius was able to tell that Tharkold was looking back. Hoping that the other cosm was friendly, but prepared for the worst if it wasn't, the Kadandrans waited for the appearance of the first maelstrom bridge. And when the Tharkolds proved hostile, the Kadandrans defended themselves.

"... and so we were beaten back, defeated because they were waiting for us and we weren't prepared for that occurrence," Thratchen finished.

The Gaunt Man studied the demon as he sat back in his chair. He absently twirled his dragon-headed cane while he did so, letting the light reflect off the blue and red gem lodged in the dragon's mouth.

"Why are you here, Thratchen?" the High Lord finally asked.

"Because my cosm has not arrived as of yet, and because I need help. The young genius that I seek fled Kadandra before I could reach her."

"Fled?" Now the Gaunt Man was sitting forward, a rare look of confusion etched into his taut brow. "How? And to where?"

Kurst sensed triumph in Thratchen's posture. The demon paused, tapping sharp claws on the hardwood table. Then he spoke.

"This stormer found another cosm. And she found a use for stormers that we never thought of."

The Gaunt Man smashed his cane atop the table, causing a loud echo to reverberate throughout the hall. "Enough of these games, demon! What did she find? Where did she go! Tell me or I will destroy you where you sit!"

"She discovered a gate, High Lord," Thratchen said quickly, perhaps sensing that he took his game too far. "With stormers to power it, she opened a portal between cosms. She has come to Earth, High Lord, and I fear it is to accomplish the same work she performed on Kadandra. She has come to help this cosm retain its own reality."

The Gaunt Man stood up and paced around the table. Kurst could see the thought processes playing across his face and shoulders. He almost pitied the stormer who could cause such anger in his master.

"And you, Thratchen? How did you come to this world?"

"Through the same portal, High Lord. Then across Baruk Kaah's cosm to the maelstrom bridge connecting Takta Ker to Orrorsh, and here I am."

Kurst traced Thratchen's path in his mind, acknowledging to himself that the demon took the fastest route to the Gaunt Man's realm on the other side of Earth from where he arrived.

"Gibberfat!" the Gaunt Man called, and a small, bloated demon appeared on the table in a cloud of brimstone. Gibberfat stood about a foot tall, with red, smouldering skin, and webbed hands and feet. There was even a hint of gills around his flabby neck. He bowed nonchalantly, then started to dig into the bowls and platters of food that filled the table. He paused when the dragon cane pushed into his round stomach.

"Go prepare a flight of ravagons, Gibberfat," the Gaunt Man said, ignoring the demon as he downed a handful of nuts. "Have them ready to fly when I give the word."

"Of course, master," Gibberfat mumbled around a mouth full of food and sharp teeth. "Whatever you say." He dove into a platter of meats, cutting through the thick slices like a shark through water.

"Go!"

"Oh, very well," the demon called from underneath the pile of meat. A burst of foul vapor punctuated Gibberfat's departure.

"High Lord," Thratchen said, "I don't think you should destroy this stormer yet."

Scythak leaped across the table and grabbed Thratchen by his leather shirt. He lifted him out of his chair. "You dare question the Gaunt Man's judgment?"

Kurst sat back to watch the spectacle. He imagined he would enjoy it.

The huge hunter towered over Thratchen, but the demon seemed unimpressed. Steel claws extended from the fingers of his right hand, and with one motion he sliced the flesh of Scythak's arm from shoulder to elbow. Scythak screamed in pain, releasing Thratchen and clutching at his arm to stop the flow of blood.

Scythak shifted then, smoothly changing from man to giant man-tiger as everyone watched. He stood on two legs, with his fur-covered arms and claws spread threateningly, looking like some gold and black striped cat in man's clothing. The weretiger prepared to pounce, but the Gaunt Man's cane slapped across his chest to bar his way.

"Shift back, Scythak. Now." The giant tiger shrank back into a large man, and Scythak backed off. But Kurst could tell that it wasn't over between the two. Maybe he had gained an ally against the weretiger.

"Speak, Thratchen, and make your explanation very good," the Gaunt Man said, letting the implied warning speak for itself.

"Of course, High Lord, I meant no disrespect. It is just that I believe someone with as much scientific interest as yourself would be curious about this new power. I suggest you capture this stormer and bring her here for further testing."

The Gaunt Man dropped his cane to his side and resumed his pacing. He circled the table once, turning dozens of plans over in his mind as he walked. He stopped when he reached Kurst's chair.

"Go prepare yourself, hunter," the Gaunt Man said, resting his hand on Kurst's shoulder. "I believe I have a mission for you."

Thratchen turned to Kurst and asked, "And what tricks do you do, little one?"

Scythak laughed aloud at this mention of Kurst's size, as the hunter was smaller than any of the other three people present. Kurst merely fixed Thratchen with an evil glare. Perhaps his ally wasn't as true as he hoped.

"Go, Kurst," the Gaunt Man said again. "I will send for you as soon as I determine the stormer's general location."

"No! I am your greatest hunter! Send me," Scythak said defensively, finally comprehending the Gaunt Man's intentions.

"If that is true, Scythak, then it makes sense that I keep you here at my side," the High Lord soothed. Scythak puffed up his broad chest with pride at the words.

As he rose to leave, Kurst heard the Gaunt Man speak to Thratchen a final time. "Come, demon, let us go and find your stormer. Then we can send the wolf out to hunt."

73

In a small Australian airfield, Tom O'Malley was giving his plane the final once over before takeoff. He liked to do this himself, as he trusted his own eyes better than any mechanic's. So far so good, he thought, checking off boxes on his pre-flight clipboard.

"Where are you off to this time, O'Malley?" asked Jimmy Hogan. He was on his way to his own plane when he stopped to say a few words to the other pilot.

"Britain," Tom said cheerfully, inspecting the right engine one last time.

"I hope you got cargo going in both directions this time," Hogan laughed, "'cause it sure did cost you on that last run."

"Don't worry about me, Jimmy. Just watch behind you, because O'Malley's Transport Company is going to pass your dinky operation any day now."

"Dream on, Tom. You've got this one cargo jet. I've got a fleet of six aircraft."

As the two pilots talked, an aborigine appeared on the airstrip. He was dressed scantily, as was the manner of those from the Outback, and he looked to be very old. But he walked straight and there was a strength to him that belied his white hair and wrinkled features. He stepped up to Tom's plane, looked it over carefully, then walked around it a second time.

"Yes, this will do nicely," the aborigine said, running his hand across the plane's belly. "Please have it back in a timely fashion, Mr. O'Malley." Then the old man turned and walked back the way he came.

"That was damn weird, Tom," Hogan declared. "What are you going to do about it?"

O'Malley shrugged. "Make my run and get back quickly, I guess."

74

Toolpin walked behind his fellows, in his usual spot as rear guard. He was of average size, as far as dwarves go, but he spun a wicked pickax. He and his companions marched to spread the enlightenment of Lady Pella Ardinay and Aysle to a new world. But Toolpin felt little jubilation over the event.