“Of course.”
“Watch your right flank, Inky. Something brewing there.”
“Thanks for the tip. However, you seem to be attacking from the left.”
Great birdlike creatures with eyes like embers swept down to parallel his course, arranging themselves in a roughly V-shaped formation.
“Why are you waiting?” he asked. “A little cautious perhaps?”
“We have time. We’re not going to let you get away, Inky dear. This is a golden opportunity, and we shan’t let it pass.”
He made a quick motion with his hand, and a great flaming prominence left the
He looked out. A raging fireball blossomed in the night, thin trails of fire falling out of it like roots seeking earth.
“Very impressive, Inky. Very impressive. We will have to be more chary of you, won’t we?”
“That is but a taste of what is to come.”
“Absolutely right, Inky old chum. This is shaping up to be quite a nasty little dustup. But when the dust settles, you’ll be ours, Inky, rest assured.”
“It would be easier for you simply to destroy me. But you want me alive, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, Inky. To make you feel pain, more pain than you thought was possible. Just like the pain your sister is feeling. Want to hear her?”
Ferne’s screaming filled the compartment.
“She’s still alive, Your Kingship. Still breathing, and she’ll stay alive and conscious for an indefinite period, experiencing unendurable torment. Delicious, isn’t it?”
Anger exploded inside him, and he durst not speak.
“Worried a little now, Inky? Just a bit?”
“I weep that you will soon be doomed,” he said.
“You weep for us? Isn’t that just like your kind? And this suicide mission of yours. What a beau geste. Very noble stuff indeed.”
“There is something you do not realize,” he said.
“And what might that be? Prithee tell us, O King.”
“The metaphysical structure of your cosmos is such that my powers, considerable as they are in my home universe, are here increased more than tenfold.”
“Pretty extravagant claim, Inky boy. You’re going to have to back it up.”
It was true. He fairly quivered with new power, could feel it coursing through his being. But would it be enough?
The sky was crowded now with strange shapes. Dragonlike things soared above, warbirds below. Flanking him were star-shapes, these keeping a wary distance. More objects approached at two o’clock high.
“You’re outnumbered, Inky,” the voice said flatly.
“How many active units have you ready to deploy, if you don’t mind my asking? In round numbers.”
“Don’t mind at all. Thousands and thousands, Inky. Thousands upon thousands.”
“Then I am not outnumbered.”
“What cheek. We’ll see. We’ll just see.”
He was still a long way from Ferne’s position. Below, the beginnings of an urban sprawl of sorts was taking shape. He decided to descend and have a closer look.
The habitations were hivelike complexes, yet incongruous suggestions of technology lay about. He saw structures that looked like industrial facilities, and some that vaguely evoked power plants. Yet he could not be sure what they were. He doubted that their function was in any way comprehensible.
The black river snaked on, strange reticulations inscribed on its banks. A city came into view, if it was a city. A central dark spire glistened against the blacker sky, flat-roofed structures fanning out from its base. Lesser complexes abutted these, petering out into the sprawl of hovels that blanketed the nondescript terrain.
The star-shapes attacked first, and he fought back successfully, each star disintegrating with a burst of scintillation. Next to make a strafing run were the dragons, diving from above. The Umoi craft shook and vibrated. His return fire, though, was accurate. He watched forty of the great beasts plummet in flames.
Next up, huge warbirds, attacking from the rear. These he outraced, sending the
Leveling out below, he found himself over one of the fan-like complexes at the base of the ebony spire. Picking out a likely spot to land, he set the craft gently down. He checked the instruments, put the craft on standby, and got up from the uncomfortable pilot’s seat.
He opened the hatch and peered out, sniffing. There was air here, and strangely enough, oxygen, but the attendant fumes were overpowering. He cast a protective envelope over himself, driving out the noxious odors. He stepped outside and closed the hatch. There was not much to see except a jumble of rooftops and the towering edifice above. He looked up.
“‘Childe Roland to the dark tower came,’” he murmured.
Warbirds circled above, faint light glinting from their golden armor-scales. They would not attack him here.
Flickering light off to his right. Turning, he beheld streamers of fire that coalesced into the shape of a gigantic demon. The eyes of the thing were difficult to meet. In them glowed white-hot malevolence, a consuming hatred. The thing spoke.
“Welcome to your doom. You were unwise to come here. This place was devised to bestow eternal pain on all those who enter, and none who enter may leave. Abandon all hope, mortal.”
He scowled back. “Let’s cut the shit and get down to business,” he said.
The thing regarded him silently for a moment, then it gestured with one taloned hand. “Behold,” it said.
Hosts of lesser demons approached, hopping from roof to roof toward him, bearing swords.
The sword he materialized was about eight feet long, most of it bright, fiery blade. He swished it about for a moment and listened to the crackling sound it made. Bringing it to the ready, he waited for the first wave of warriors to reach him.
The sword exploded. When the smoke and fire cleared, all the warrior demons lay dead, their carcasses littering the rooftops.
He smiled up at the big one. “Surprise.”
The thing howled its dismay, then hurled a globe of fire at him.
He brushed it aside. “Look, this is silly. You can’t use interstitial power in your own world. You realize that by now, don’t you? You can only transfer it to another universe, like mine, where you’ve been up to no end of shenanigans.”
Enraged, the demon yowled again, shooting lightning bolts and other fancy stuff.
These he ignored. “Don’t you understand? When there’s too much magic, nothing makes any difference. This whole thing” — he gestured expansively — “your entire world, nothing but a nightmare, a fever dream. A chimera.”
The thing screamed in pain, clutching at its breast. Then it exploded in a burst of glitter that swirled and dispersed in the foul winds.
He sighed. Spying a cavelike entrance in a humped projection on the roof, he moved toward it. Not letting the darkness within deter him, he entered the administration complex of Hell itself.
Thirty-seven
Lab
Nobody made an effort to move for a long while. Finally Gene struggled to his feet and limped to Vaya. She
