Babeltausque suspected that devil found himself in the slow, painful process of arriving at a destination other than the one that he wanted.
Darkness.
The yearning engulfed him. It felt more familiar, now. It had become a friend after one brief connection. He thought at it, Crush that wicked old devil. Or something of the sort, never real y articulated but enough to distract it briefly.
Then he felt Tang Shan coming, frightened by the inexplicable presence.
The passage dragged. Tang Shan remained close. Too close? Almost… They could not merge, could they? The receiving portal would not spit out some eight-limbed vertebrate spider-monster, would it?
He tumbled. Momentum brought him up against someone.
Carrie. She was seated on a dusty stone floor, laughing wildly while making no sound he could hear. Behind her, on hands and knees, the youth who had preceded her was puking his guts up while crawling toward his sword. Lein She lay curled on his left side, clutching his abdomen. The easterner who had preceded Babeltausque also lay in the fetal position, his blade eight feet away. He did not appear to be breathing. The sorcerer headed his way, to help, only belatedly realizing that he was suffering less than anyone else.
Tang Shan began ridding himself of his last several meals.
One thump and Babeltausque had the boy gasping. The pudgy man dizzily struggled to keep his feet under him. It was al on him, now. Whatever it was. He was the only one able to do anything.
The portals. There were three. Two stil hummed. He had to make sure nothing fol owed…
Would Old Meddler bother? Who here was of any value?
How could the devil know that?
Someone stirred in the portal that Babeltausque had used.
He hesitated, caught between the urge to snatch up a sword and the desire to fling an attack spel . Then he recognized a portal technician, another boy, maybe fifteen, armed but terrified and desperate to escape.
Something pul ed him back.
He disappeared with a pathetic puppy yelp.
The calm nurtured during his association with Dane of Greyfel s came over the sorcerer.
He had to silence those portals. They looked delicate. They should break easily. What to use?
Obviously, the sword that had gotten away from the youth who had come through ahead of him.
While stooping to recover the sword he became aware that every muscle and joint he owned now ached. He might not be puking up his soul but he had acquired a world of hurt al his own.
Carrie tried to say something.
He promised, “Nothing wil get you. I won’t let it.” And he meant it.
He shuffled toward the portals.
Someone began to emerge from that same portal where the panicked boy had been pul ed back. This one wore shreds of clothing similar to that boy’s but was more nearly naked than dressed. Babeltausque did not recognize that pale face. That was not anyone from Karkha Tower.
He raised the sword like a club. He had no idea how to employ the Eastern weapon.
The newcomer desperately dragged two-thirds of her body length out into the cold. Her? Oh, definitely, yes! Though she wore tatters of boy’s clothing, there could be no doubt.
She had been wel -blessed by Nature.
She could not get any more of herself free of the transfer’s grip.
Her desperation touched Babeltausque. Blade held high in one hand, he extended his other, let her grab hold, pul ed.
Out she popped. Wel , most of her did. Part of a fine right leg, from just above the ankle down, did not emerge. There was no bleeding. Babeltausque noted that she wore scraps of a boy’s clothing.
Carrie gasped, “Bee Boss, you got to wreck them damned gates!”
Wel , yes, he did have to get on with that, even if he and Carrie were way down on Old Meddler’s list, if just to deny that vil ain a possible escape route from the Karkha Tower.
Carrie was up now, hunched, in pain, muttering about hoping being pregnant was al in her head because no fetus ought to go through what they just had. Babeltausque did not quite grasp that right away. He dragged his attention away from eternity’s most marvelous set and attacked the portal whence their owner had come.
The one cal ed Lein She said, “Strike lower, to the right.
Your other right. The right side of it. Hit the orange and yel ow hashes.” Babeltausque understood every word. At the moment he did not wonder how that could be.
Carrie stumbled to the stranger, helped her remain upright.
The girl stared down at herself, plainly thril ed. She cupped her breasts, then commenced a slow blush. Carrie said,
“One of these perverts wil give you his jacket.” Babeltausque was not alone in being thoroughly impressed.
His sword stroke fel where Lein She said it should.
A whine went out of the world, a sound the sorcerer had not recognized was there til it went away.
Tang Shan gasped, “Silence the others, too!” He was on his knees, now, eying the footless girl, baffled.
As a boy Babeltausque often fantasized himself an unstoppable swordsman, even then knowing it would only ever be a fantasy. He was not an athlete in any sense. But here he was, swinging a long eastern blade like he knew what he was doing. Clang! Clack! Ring! It was a magic blade, a singing sword!
“Enough!” Tang Shan yel ed. “We want them damaged so nothing can come after us, not busted beyond repair.”
“Working off some fear energy,” Babeltausque admitted.
“And now I’m exhausted.” He understood most everything Tang Shan said. Lein She, too. Was that a byproduct of their passage through the transfer stream? Instead of them being mashed together into a two-headed human crab?
“Settle down. Relax. Sleep if you have to. We’re safe. Its dark out. We can’t go anywhere now, anyway.” There would be no more transfers. They were on foot for now.
Babeltausque settled beside Carrie, snuggled in for the warmth, physical and emotional. He slid the sword across to its owner. It was in bad shape. The nicks might never get polished out. Carrie teased, “I saw you lick your chops when you saw those boobies.”
“I can’t help being alive. But your sweet booblets are the only ones for me.”
“It’s al right. They’re so excel ent I’d want to get my hands on them myself if I was that kind of girl.” Babeltausque looked at the mystery woman. “Who are you?” As though she might understand. Hel , she might.
Tang Shan did.
He was sure she was the presence he had felt in the transfer stream.
...
Ragnarson joined the crowd looking over Scalza’s shoulders. People babbled in several languages. Old Meddler had found some way to get at the Karkha Tower through the transfer stream. That was unexpected. The Tower was lost, no doubt about it. Those who had not gotten out quickly had become part of the red layer now coating everything inside the transfer chamber.
The Star Rider sent a demon through, somehow, though that should not have been possible. It kil ed everyone, opened the way for its master, who made adjustments to a freight portal and brought an iron statue through. But not the Windmjirnerhorn. Passage through the transfer stream would destroy that.
Old Meddler had to do without while his winged mount made the long real-world journey from the farthest east.
Mist said, “Lord Yuan, it’s gone wel enough, so far, despite the surprises. Dare I hope that something there might nail him?”
“No, Il ustrious. But he won’t be able to transfer out.”
“Then with Varthlokkur’s help we might be able to smash the place with him inside. Where is Varthlokkur?” Scalza said, “Almost here, Mother. But he won’t be much help til he and the Unborn recuperate.” Ragnarson
