Mobius (30 page)

Morion confronted me about his exclusion. “I find it offensive that I get no respect! You give me no consideration for the journey, as though I were some grand coward. I’m a very capable man and if I feel the need to replace either of you on this journey, I’ll do so.”

“You’re acting ridiculous,” I said. “There’s no conspiracy among us to belittle you or diminish your reputation. If you want to paddle for days on end, with the probability of finding yourself in the grips of a black beast, then I’ll be glad to give you my seat.”

Morion held up his hand. “You need not go so far. I only sought reassurance of our friendly standing, which you’ve now given and I accept.”

I sighed in annoyance.

Orsteen approached. “If the two of you have mended your relationship, I’m ready to depart. The skiff’s loaded with food, clothes, and two of Dolia’s Intersplit guns.”

“Very well,” I said. “I’ll be there soon. Let me say goodbye to Allienora.”

I went into the bungalow and found Allienora feeding Bardio a bowl of soup. I stood quietly for a moment, admiring the kindness she showed.

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“Already?” Allienora’s face was full of concern.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon with a more suitable craft.”

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” She placed a hand on my chest. “I don’t want to lose you. We’ve only just found each other.”

I pushed a stray curl of her golden hair behind her ear. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“When we first met, you reminded me of my dead wife... with all your beauty, elegance, and intelligence. Since then, something has changed inside me. You’ve cleared the webs from my heart.” I looked into her large, gleaming blue eyes with passion. “When I look at you now, I no longer think of her, I think of you—only of you. I wanted you to know that.”

“You’re honesty means a lot to me, Theron.” She looked at her hands—they were dirty from digging Dolia’s grave. “Life feels different now. The things that have happened, the adventure we’ve seen. I’ve found a different side of me—someone brave, someone happy. You’ve helped me discover the new me, Theron. Life has been better with you in it.”

Allienora moved closer and our lips met. I felt a youthful exhilaration, as though it were my first kiss ever. I held her tight and wished to never let go. I felt safe. I felt right. I felt love.

Orsteen’s voice echoed through the bungalow, calling for me. I eased away from Allienora’s soft, sensual lips with great hesitation.

“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered.

She smiled a crooked, wonderful smile. “And I’ll be waiting.”

Orsteen and I boarded the skiff. It lurched to one side as Orsteen’s weight was greater than mine. Once confident of our balance, we rowed the skiff into the swamp. I watched Allienora waving from the shore until a thick fog caused her to vanish. She was gone from my sight.

“You’ll see her soon, my friend,” said Orsteen.

I smiled, thinking about the kiss we had shared. “I think I love her.”

“You
think
?”

“I
know
I love her,” I replied.

The skiff glided through the still waters. We rowed at a measured pace, trying not to become tired before the journey was completed. We alternated turns rowing and resting, so our progress continued without stopping.

A day passed, then two, and we had yet to encounter a black beast. On the third day, while Orsteen slept, a rustle of leaves from the above canopy captured my attention. I woke Orsteen.

“Something stirs above. Be on guard.”

Orsteen stared upward, weapon ready. “It’s Fandoral’s craft! He’s come to rescue us!”

I rowed the skiff into the open, while Orsteen shouted and waved. The small craft descended until it came to rest beside the skiff, hovering just above the water. Its shield disengaged, allowing us to board. The shield reengaged and I realized we forgot our Instersplit guns.

“Wait! Our weapons.”

“You won’t need them,” replied Fandoral. He looked awful. His blue velvet robe hung tattered and dirty. His hood was drawn and his face hung in a tired mask.

“It’s good to see you,” I said. “The Fume’s black beasts are going to be more challenging than we thought. I encountered three of them in the swamp, feasting on one of the local inhabitants. After eating half the man, the beasts underwent a grotesque transformation, mimicking a more humanoid form.”

Fandoral released an unexpected laugh. “Forget your worries. The beasts have been taken care of. We killed them all.”

“This is splendid news!” said Orsteen.

I noticed a bloody gash near the edge of Fandoral’s face. “You’re hurt. It seems they didn’t give their lives easily.”

“It was a good fight.” Fandoral drew his hood tighter around his face, concealing the wound. “But come, these are things I’d rather not discuss. We must return to my residence in Central City.”

“Allienora and Morion are still at Bardio’s bungalow,” I said. “I promised we’d return as soon as we found a craft.”

“They’ll be safe where they are,” said Fandoral, flying the craft in the opposite direction of Allienora and Morion.

Orsteen’s face puckered. “What’s that smell?”

“I don’t smell anything,” said Fandoral.

I caught a whiff of the foul stench. “We’ll probably need a change of clothes.”

Orsteen looked back in the direction of Allienora and Morion. “What’s so urgent that we must abandon them in the swamp, Fandoral?”

“We’re in the process of implementing the Obelisks in a second attempt against the Fume.”

“Really?” I said. “I thought we only had one shot with the Obelisks.”

“Not so,” replied Fandoral. “Even now we push the Fume out of our universe forever.”

Fandoral guided the craft through the forest channel, passing towns and small cities, all of which seemed strangely quiet. At last, we arrived at Central City, where all the forest channels intersected. We made for the largest floating structure, which housed the Hall of Guardians and Fandoral’s personal residence. Fandoral landed the craft on a balcony and we continued on foot.

As we walked on, we saw scattered dead everywhere.

“Victory wasn’t without cost,” I said.

We came across a trail of countless dead Guardians, whose bodies were gruesome tangles of bloody flesh and broken armor. On their backs hung the great carapaces of their dimensional transporters, which apparently shifted out of their concealing dimension upon death.

“I don’t see a single black beast lying among these Guardians,” said Orsteen. “The casualties don’t match up. How is this?”

“We took thorough precautions, burning the remains of the beasts.”

I again detected a bad odor. “Tell me, Fandoral, is your little friend Stimple as cheerful as ever?”

“Yes, yes. He’s always in high spirits. A commendable fellow.”

I stopped at a dead Guardian, who still had an Intersplit gun gripped in his hand. I kneeled at his side.

“Fandoral, this Guardian still lives!” I exclaimed.

Fandoral hunched over the body. And as he began speaking his doubts of such a possibility, I jammed the Intersplit gun into the gaping mouth of Fandoral’s great horse-head and blew the brains from his skull.

“What have you done!” shouted Orsteen, taking a step away from me.

I drew back Fandoral’s blue velvet robe, exposing the black, nano-fiber ingrained flesh of the Fume’s beast. “They seem to carry an unmistakable stench, which I remembered from my earlier encounter.” I pulled back the hood, and touched what appeared to be Fandoral’s face. “This monster has flayed our friend’s face and wears it as his own. A technique I’ve regretfully seen used before.”

“It’s an awful disguise.” Orsteen’s face distorted in disgust. “I feel sick. How do we proceed?”

I surveyed our location. “Considering the beast’s desire to lead us to Fandoral’s personal residence, perhaps we should continue there.”

“Why?” asked Orsteen. “It’s probably an ambush.”

“We’ll gain nothing from lurking in the shadows, slaughtering one beast at a time. Besides, if this beast wanted to kill us, he could’ve done so at any time. This is more than just leading us into a simple ambush. We now have the advantage of knowing our arrival is expected.”

“If you think this is our best course of action, I’ll trust you, Theron.” Orsteen grabbed an Intersplit gun from another dead Guardian. “But I get the next kill.”

I patted Orsteen on the shoulder. “We’ll see about that, big guy.”

We made our way through the Hall of Guardians, which was now vacant. When we at last approached Fandoral’s residence, we heard cries of profound grief. With cautious footsteps, we entered the front door and found the source of the cries. We discovered Fandoral’s body on the floor lifeless and mutilated. His face, as we expected, had been flayed, revealing his naked skull. On top of him, Stimple lay sprawled, grasping Fandoral’s chest with open arms.

“Come back to me, my friend,” cried Stimple. “My sweet companion, come back. Don’t leave me. I’ll be alone without you.”

“I’m sorry, Stimple,” said Orsteen.

Before I could give my condolences, a disturbingly familiar voice came from behind us: “You’ve at last arrived.”

I spun around and discovered a hologram above the table in the center of the room. It displayed an unfamiliar face, but I knew the thing well.

I scowled. “So, here we are again, face to face, as it were. Who are you now?”

The Fume bowed. “Judas Kern, overseer of Earth’s antiterrorism forces.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun, you demented fuck.”

“I’m having a lot of fun. I’m in charge of exterminating a terrorist group called the Scions of Sensimion. I believe you were helping them.” He wagged a finger of disapproval. “Naughty, naughty. I don’t like being watched.”

“Enough of your games.” I approached the image. “I’ve learned a lot about you.”

The Fume made an expression not unlike fondness. “You’ve come far in your time, my child. You probably have many questions. Don’t worry—I have all the answers you require.”

“How uncharacteristic of you.” I smiled wryly. “I’ve pondered my entire life the twisted condition of my mind, which has driven me in many directions, both good and bad. I’ve pondered too long my purpose. Why now would you give me these answers?”

“Must a father give reason for every kind act?”

“You do in fact believe you’re some kind of god, the father of all creation. I’m not your child. I’m your enemy.”

“Oh... but you
are
my child. I brought you into this universe. I crafted the intricacies of your being. Why do you think you can’t remember anything before the sanitarium? You weren’t born like others, Theron. You were manufactured like an instrument, which I’ve consequently utilized to my benefit.”

“Why have you done this to me?”

“To help you find your destiny.”

“Which is?”

“You must discover this yourself.”

I felt my stomach in my throat. “Has every moment, every link in the chain of my life, been forged by you?”

“I set you on your way, and thereafter made minor adjustments. However, all taken with all, I don’t control minds. I can only implant ideas.”