torg 01 - Storm Knights (30 page)

"I know my mission, demon," Kurst warned. But his mind tried to connect the ancient name out of legend with the current situation.

"Of course," Thratchen said. "You have heard the legends of Aperios and the Nameless One?"

"Children's stories, nothing more."

"Perhaps," Thratchen said, turning to examine Decker. He reached out a clawed hand, almost as though to fondle the possibilities that virtually clung to the sleeping figure. "The stormers of this world are strong, hunter."

Kurst merely nodded. It was foolish to state the obvious.

"Keep this one alive, Kurst. He can lead you to Hachi and the Ayslish woman."

Kurst's hand shifted back to flesh and nails.

"You do understand me, don't you Kurst?" Thratchen asked.

Flex. The hand shifted to claws. "Decker will live. At least until the hunt is over and I have them all."

The demon retreated into the darkness. "Be sure that he does, hunter. Be sure that he does." Then Thratchen was gone.

"I do not know what game you are playing, Thratchen, but I will figure it out."

Another flex, and hand replaced hair and claw.

95

The Soviet army was in place, ringing the area exactly as Katrina Tovarish had instructed. The stelae they unearthed had been rigged with explosives and placed back in its hole. All appeared to be ready, noted Captain Nicolai Ondarev. Then he shuddered when a chill wind blew past.

"Are you cold, Katrina?" he asked the young woman standing beside him. Her head was tilted slightly, as though she were listening to something.

"They are coming, Nicolai," she said. She had not even heard his question.

Ondarev looked up at the sky. It was very dark now, filled with black, bloated clouds that blocked the light of day. The wind had picked up, howling across the field as though it were rushing to escape. He had to admit that he wanted to flee, too. Katrina, without saying a word, reached out and took his hand.

Overhead, the clouds began to roll violently, as though something was stirring them vigorously. Thunder sounded, and an opening appeared in the clouds. But no light fell through the crack. If anything, it was even darker within the hole in the sky.

"Something is happening," Ondarev shouted so that Katrina could hear him over the howl of the wind.

She was looking at the hole in the sky with her sightless eyes, but Ondarev knew that she saw more than he could ever hope to. "Destroy the stelae," she ordered.

Ondarev gave the signal. A moment passed, and the clouds moved even faster. Lightning began to play across the dark sky. Then a mist of glowing light rolled out of the crack in the clouds, expanding as it fell toward the ground. A metallic mass bubbled out of the hole, forming an arch that stretched from the sky and dropped into the field.

An explosion sounded behind him, barely audible over the sound of the wind and thunder, but Ondarev

knew that the stelae was destroyed. As the glowing mist touched the ground, miniature storms were formed. It was like the mist was battling for admittance, but the little storms were not going to let it through. The soldiers backed away as the mini storms played themselves out, for they were violent tempests, filled with wind and lightning.

"Without the stelae, the alien reality cannot take hold," Katrina explained. "The Earth itself fights for us."

Ondarev watched as the mass of metal continued to bubble forth. It was a moving mass that seemed to drip from the sky. And within the bubbling metal, the captain saw human forms. They writhed within the metal, helping to shape it with their own bodies.

"My God," he swore, "it's alive!"

"It is an abomination, Nicolai," Katrina said. "It is a thing of evil."

She was right, he knew, and it pained him to see the dread construct touch the ground. But the moment it did touch down, the miniature storms exploded. The glowing mist rolled back upon itself, smashing into the metal arch. Another explosion shook the area, and the arch fell apart as the mist rolled back up into the sky.

For a moment Ondarev thought he saw something at the top of the arch. But then the mist hit the crack in the clouds. Lightning fell to the ground like rain, each bolt

targeting a piece of the shattered metal with its searing energy. Both lightning and metal disappeared in a brilliant flash. Then light exploded throughout the dark clouds overhead, radiating out from the crack in an ever-widening circle.

"What's happening?" a soldier screamed. Others were running. Most were glued in place, watching the violent show play out.

Finally, the rolling lightning reached its limit somewhere beyond the horizon. Like a rubber band stretched too far, the lightning snapped back, vibrating through the clouds and back into the hole in the sky. This caused another explosion of thunder, and Ondarev was sure they would all be deaf when this was finished. The dark clouds followed the lightning into the crack, sucked in with a sustained peel of thunder that knocked the soldiers to their knees.

When Ondarev's senses cleared, he saw that the crack, the clouds, and the metal arch were all gone. The sun was shining, and there was no sign of the evil storm.

A cheer went up from the soldiers — almost as loud as the earlier thunder — but it was a good sound. Ondarev laughed.

"We did it, Katrina! You did it!" he shouted with glee.

The young woman collapsed into his arms and wept.

Storm Knights

They call us stormers. When I finally meet these High Lords, I will introduce myself as a Storm Knight. Then I will sheathe my blade in each of them in turn.

— Tolwyn of House Tancred

Stormers defy the natural order. But they do provide such amusing diversions.

— The Gaunt Man

Thratchen reeled in pain, collapsing to the thick carpet on the floor of his room in Illmound Keep. The pain assaulted him, battering his body from all directions. It felt as though he was being torn apart. Even his cybernetic enhancements throbbed, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out. Then, as suddenly as it arrived, the pain was gone.

He rolled onto his back, resting for a moment before rising. He had experienced such excrutiating pain only once before, and that was fairly recently. It was back on Kadandra, when the stelae were destroyed and the connections to his cosm of Tharkold closed. Could something similar have occurred on Earth?

There was a knock at the door. Thratchen ignored it as he tried to gather his strength and his thoughts. The knock sounded again, and it was followed by a voice.

"Thratchen, sir? It is Picard, sir. The Gaunt Man has instructed me to summon you," said the timid voice.

"Go away," Thratchen called, hoping his voice sounded stronger to Picard than it did to his own ears.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. The Gaunt Man was quite insistent, sir."

Yes, thought Thratchen. He always is. Thratchen forced himself to rise. He would appear as ordered. To do less could jeopardize his plans.

The Gaunt Man was waiting for Thratchen in the Grand Parlor, standing at the bay window that looked out upon the maelstrom bridge to Orrorsh. When Picard announced Thratchen's presence, the Gaunt Man whirled angrily.

"Your old master is a fool!" The Gaunt Man exclaimed. "He has allowed the Earthers to push him back up bridge. We needed his realm established in order to secure our own hold on this world. Now the operation is in jeopardy.With only four cosms connected to Earth, there is a significant chance that the planet can produce a possibility surge of such magnitude to eradicate our realities. Tharkold was to eliminate that chance."

"Tharkold was repelled?" Thratchen asked.

"Repelled? After what happened to your old master on Kadandra, it is possible that the power of this world destroyed Tharkold completely."

Thratchen sat heavily on the long couch against the wall. He had to think about this. He had to decide what it meant to him and his own agenda. The Gaunt Man, however, would not let him alone.

"These next few days will be crucial. I will do what I can to maintain the four realms, but one of the others must make it through or we are doomed to failure. How could your High Lord be so stupid, Thratchen? Why did he try to take Kadandra on the eve of this conquest?"

"He is my High Lord no longer," Thratchen replied. "I have sworn myself to you. As for why he chose the

course he did, who can say? I suspect, though, that it was the same reason that drives all the High Lords. He wanted the power that it promised, power that would place him above some of the others coming to Earth."

"But now he has nothing," the Gaunt Man spat.

A burst of fire and brimstone exploded in the center of the parlor, and when the fumes cleared Gibberfat was there. He dropped to his knees before the Gaunt Man.

"Forgive my intrusion, master, but I have news you will want to hear," the small demon said.

"Speak, Gibberfat," the Gaunt Man ordered. "And if it is not of the utmost importance I will return you to the hell I pulled you from."

The demon paled considerably at that, turning a lighter shade of red. He gulped, then spoke. "The ravagons you ordered to detain the stormers. They've been destroyed." He ducked, hoping to protect himself from a cane swipe or worse. The blow never came.

"The stormers. They did this?"

"Yes, master. They defeated two of your best ravag-ons."

"And Tolwyn and Hachi? What of them?"

"There were no other bodies, master. Just the ravag-ons."

The Gaunt Man stepped back to the window, looking out at his new domain. He was quiet for a time, and that made Thratchen very nervous. And, from the expression on Gibberfat's face, it made the demon uneasy as well.

"This disturbs me, Thratchen," the Gaunt Man said without turning. He continued to look out the window. "These stormers do not behave like stormers. Only once before have they demonstrated such abilities, and this Tolwyn was a part of that, too. I do not need this right now, not with everything else that is happening."

He spun and walked out of the parlor, leaving Thratchen and Gibberfat behind without so much as a glance.

97

President Jonathan Wells sat in conference with his advisors. Among them were Senator Ellen Conners and Dennis Quartermain, the Vice President. Wells had grown older since this had started. He was aging rapidly under the weight of the office. But he was doing everything in his power to keep the country alive. He had the armed forces mobilized. He had refugee centers set up all along the storm front that separated the zone of silence from the rest of the country. And he had sent Ace Decker to follow his dream. But there was still so much to do.

"We've analyzed the newest data, Mister President, and we think there is a definite pattern to the invaders' attack." The voice belonged to General Clayton Powell, of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He was standing before a map of North America. A gray diamond stretched across the map from New York to Michigan, showing the zone of silence. Around the diamond was a lighter shaded zone. It covered most of the surrounding area north into Canada and as far west as the Great Lakes.

Powell continued. "The lighter area is where most of the fighting is now occurring. The invaders have pushed into these directions, and we are now learning much about them. Unlike in the zone of silence, we are able to battle the invaders within this expanding zone. But we are running into problems of frequent mechanical breakdown, lose of unit cohesion, and other strange effects that we do not understand."

"What are you trying to tell me, General Powell?" Wells asked, hoping to cut right to the point.

"In a nutshell, sir, we're losing. When our weapons work, we drive the invaders back. When they fail — which is a chronic occurrence — we must retreat or be slaughtered."

"Your suggestion?"

"Evacuate Washington, D.C."

The chamber grew quiet. Wells looked at the faces of his advisors. None of them wanted to leave the capitol to the invaders. Wells didn't either, but he had to do what was best. He stood up to address the group.

"Do you have an alternative spot to put the government, Clay?"

"Yes sir, I do. A number of cities have been recommended — Montgomery, New Orleans, Houston. I feel Houston is the best choice because of its distance and facilities."

Wells nodded. "I concur. Ladies and gentlemen, make it so."

The voices assaulted him at once, each arguing a different option. He slammed his fist on the table. "I did not ask for opinions on this matter!"

"John, if we evacuate it will look like we're admitting defeat," said Quartermain.

"If we don't, Dennis, what will we be admitting if the city falls? My decision stands. We're moving to Texas."

The chamber emptied as each of the advisors went to put the evacuation in motion. Quartermain and Con-ners remained, as did Powell.

"Clay," Wells began, "I want you and your boys to keep working on this. I want to contain the invaders, stop them from taking any more land. Once that's done, then we can figure out how to take the land back."

"I'll do my best, sir."