Fade (26 page)

Kah’en bristled at this. “Where is she, old one? Is she here?”

“In a manner of speaking, she is, Janar.”

“Then, let me—”

The Guardian held a hand up, stopping Kah’en. “I will finish, Janar.” He waited until Kah’en backed down, then continued. “My sister killed so many. But I could not make myself kill her. So I caged her life-force here. I wanted to show her that she was no different than those she sent here. I hid her body away so that one day, when she returned to her senses, I could restore her.”

“Wait, doesn’t that make her dead?” Angela asked.

“She is different. A warrior made in the womb to survive. She can die, but her body prefers life. That body will reform if her consciousness demands it. But I found a way to imprison that consciousness.” He said it as if it was no more complicated than two plus two.

“As I said, we did not find this body,” Kah’en said.

The Guardian smiled. “I did not hide it where either the Fanil nor the Janar might think. And I hid the location deep within my staff.” Then his smile wilted. “But you did find it, didn’t you? You stumbled onto it.”

Kah’en looked at Angela, eyes wild. “The Queen truly is on your world as Aern thought.”

“In Mira and my final battle, she made sure the staff was left behind. I was fearful for the misfortune, but I never believed this child-race would figure out the puzzle. I never had as much faith in them as my sister. If they bring it to her grave,” he looked back at the shimmering blue, “it can be used to open this gate, she will be free, and this world will finally die. I did not mean this to happen.”

Angela put a hand on his arm. “I know. But the Fade have the staff, and they are searching for her right now.” She looked at the Guardian, hoping not to have to make the connection for him.

He stood to his full height, turning his back to them. “Two warriors will make no difference in a war. Besides, even if Mira’s body is found, it’s a useless dried corpse. I’m still certain they won’t know how to use the staff to bring her back.”

“You’d take the chance that they couldn’t figure that out? You didn’t think they’d get as far as they have. They’re crazy
and
devoted. Not a combination to underestimate, apparently. And we
do
believe two warriors
can
make a difference. I have,” she had never considered a word to explain what she had, “powers.”

He glanced over his shoulder, looking anxious. “My sister, too. She is strong, like me, and, as I said, her body heals quickly. All of our people were genetically altered to be useful, better. She was born to be a warrior. I was born to be a maker. Our people altered ourselves right out of existence. Big plague. Big war. Big death. Mira fought hard to save this world. It did her no good. Because she was just one.” Angela could hear a low growl in his throat. “Power gives false hope.” He turned his head more, to look Angela in the eye. “So, no, you cannot go home.”

Angela took a moment to settle herself and asked, “Why? Aern has the staff. He will find a way to release her.”

He turned, putting one of his hands on the head of a Kull that had wandered close and ran his fingers through its coarse hair. “Understand, child: this world was nearly destroyed by our civil war. After coming back here, I found that it was ripping itself from its orbit, which would make it uninhabitable. So I used the gate as a power source and created a bubble of artificial atmosphere around the entire planet. As I said, this is my gift. I am a Maker. It is how I made the staff, how we all understand one another’s disparate languages. So know that I am not a fool about such things.” He stood again, bending toward her, making Angela feel like an ant. “To use the portal, the bubble which sustains this world has to be shut down. The bubble is already weak. The chain reaction would be too swift to stop, once started. And it would be almost impossible to stop her departure while a world falls apart around me. So, if you leave, she leaves. I would rather take the small chance that this Aern will fail.”

Angela found herself exploding. “You’re telling me that we can’t go back home because you couldn’t bring yourself to kill your psychopathic sister?” Her face was no longer only red from the sun. “Now half of my friend Jonas’ planet is dead, and my Earth might die too! I don’t think keeping that bitch here is doing the fabulous job you thought it would.”

“She is my sister.” He held his hand out to stop her rebuttal. It dropped in slow motion and he looked away from her again. “It is not so easy to kill that which is loved.” He rubbed at his stubbled throat with one of his hands.

Kah’en said, “you say this bubble you created is weakening. The queen is strong. It will not hold her long.”

“That’s right,” Angela said, wound up again. “What happens when your stupid bubble prison pops? Are you sure you aren’t,” she took on his deep tone, “
a fool about such things
?”

For a moment, the Guardian showed his teeth and a bolt of fear struck her as Angela believed she’d gone too far. But, a moment later, he bowed his head. “Daily, she berates me. She says she is strong. She says that my love for her is a lie. She reminds me that even time has begun to unravel here and soon she will be free. But that she will stay long enough to see me suffer in death.” He stretched his long neck up, his jaws clenched, his voice heavy with grief. “My
sister
says this to me.” After a long time, he looked at both of them. “I have kept myself from considering all of this. I have held out hope. But, even after all this time, she has not changed. She has just grown angrier, more insane. She would destroy your planet to spit in my face.”

“So even if you don’t let us go she’s still going to eventually get out?” Angela didn’t care that he was near tears. She was trembling with anger. “Yes, by all means, let’s not take
the
chance we might have to stop her!”

The Guardian looked down, in shame. “I had not even thought finding the second Earth possible.” He was frustrated rather than mournful for the first time. He took a breath. “I no longer ignore it.”

Angela fought the sudden urge to yelp in joy.

Kah’en placed a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Time is different, you said. Unraveling. I have met old men that, to me, were in their youth only a few years ago. To us, we have been gone for months. What does that mean? It…” He glanced at Angela. “May be too late for our allies.”

The Guardian frowned, thinking. “There are small pockets in which time passes more slowly here, and some, more quickly. At one time, I could keep up, but now it is erratic and beyond me. Perhaps seconds, perhaps days.” He shrugged, looking sorry for his answer.

Angela brightened. “That’s not bad. Especially the seconds thing.” She looked at Kah’en who seemed less bright than she. “We can do this.” She hugged him. “We can go home.” Kah’en turned and began to explain in his own language what he could to those who had come with them.

The Guardian considered. Angela’s eyes were on him again, holding her breath at what he might say next. “I hope this is… the wisest choice.” He was silent for a time and then nodded his heavy head. “I will not go with you. This world might well try to come into yours and I do not know what would happen if that occurred. This is my work, but it
is
old.”

The leader of the Fade who had accompanied Kah’en and Angela stepped forward, his voice a bit hesitant. “What happens to the rest of us? Can we all go home after our queen is gone?”

The Guardian looked away, then seemed to force himself to turn back to the Fade warrior. “The bubble I have this world suspended in will collapse after the door is opened. Those left will die with this world.”

Angela looked to Kah’en, realizing she could understand the Fade’s words. The Guardian’s device, she imagined.

“You have to give us time!” The Fade leader said. “We will at least go back and gather our village. It will only take—”

“No. I empathize with you, but I have made my decision. I did not bring your people here. You were sent here by your own kind. They are responsible for the deaths. But I am sorry for it. You few are free to leave with these two.”

Their leader looked back at his men, then at the Guardian. “Then they just die? On a whim, you decide to open the door home and those be damned who are not nearby?”

“This was no whim, Fanil. I would wait until time itself stopped to keep my sister here if I had not been persuaded that this might be the best time to act against her, and help do what I should have done so many years ago.”

The leader growled. “No matter how you—”

“Enough!” the Guardian said, his voice sending them cowering. He turned to Angela. “Prepare yourselves.” He glanced at the others. “You too. My
whim
is your blessing today.”

The Fade grumbled but did not refuse the invitation to live. Neither Kah’en nor Angela decided to have a dog in this particular fight. But Angela couldn’t help but think about the people they had met, both good and bad, and how their lives would just cease. Who knew how many people inhabited this planet? How many had been sent off to this unknown place by that damned staff that was at the center of so many people’s pain? Was their murder—and that’s what it was—in this unfamiliar world worth the exchange for the lives in a world with which she was simply better acquainted?

Angela turned to find the Guardian again. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t let these people die because of my choice.”

“My mind is decided,” he said with what Angela thought might be tears in his eyes. The awesome blue light, somehow, began to shine even brighter. A long, bright tunnel appeared at the center of what had been a wall of light before.

A pulled cork
, Angela thought. There was nothing she could do now. The sky faded to a darker color. Tears swelled her eyes and her chest tightened. Her lips moved up and down as if still looking for words that might change the Guardian’s mind—words that were dead and meaningless now that the gate was open and his sister was free. It had all been piled onto her shoulders. She had talked him into letting them—and the queen—go. It was her responsibility to see that Mira was defeated.

Logically, it seemed better than waiting for Mira’s cage to rust around her, sending her someday into an unprepared world. But the price had been so high. Too high, she was realizing. Angela took another look back at the lackluster land, taking in a dry, hot lungful of air, holding it, perhaps even savoring it. In the distance there seemed to be a rumble. She tried not to imagine what might be going on as the shield around that world failed. She expelled the air in a long breath and turned, closing her eyes, moving with the few others into the light.

TWENTY

C
ynthia dug her feet into the earth, pushing herself forward, faster at Aern; she launched her fist at him. He slid back, latching onto her arm and twisting. Cynthia felt the splintered bone move under her skin. She howled as Aern punched her in the face. Her cheek split. No sooner had she hit the ground than the wound on her face had healed and her bone mended, but the pain had been immense. She pointed her head at Aern who was unmoving, but smiling. Fear engulfed her.

She shot at him again, a bullet. But it seemed now that she might as well be a fuming child. Each time she blocked or took one of his punches, she felt herself falling further and further toward defeat. Finally, she wheeled back, arms thrashing, bared teeth outlined in blood.

The crowd of remaining Fade behind Aern clamored and cheered. Aern came at
her
this time. He was done with trifling games. A sneer pushed his upper lip into an almost comical curl. He broke her nose. A flood of red rushed over her lips. She coughed a hoarse breath as his fist pushed her ribs past breaking with a snap. A mist of red puffed from her lips as he punched her in the stomach. No matter how many times she hit, blocked, dodged, there was no foreseeable victory for her. Each of his punches was ten of hers.

The idea that if she couldn’t break the man she could break the source of his strength had been the first to occur to her. But his armor was now just as protected as he. (
Probably not all that useful otherwise, dumbass
, she berated herself.) A force field or some other type of sci-fi crap, she imagined. So, now there was just keeping herself from taking too much damage too fast. But that was proving less than easy.

He broke her faster than she could heal. Now she could see how even a world full of people like she and Jonas could fall to an invading force such as this. She squeaked in pain with each well-earned breath as they pounded each other—her single-action revolver to his fully automatic machine gun.

Cynthia rammed him full speed, knocking him off his feet, into a tree—using those trusty laws of physics to buy herself some time. The tree, at least three feet in diameter, snapped, leaned, but stood. She took the moment and breathed; stood up straight, let herself heal, if only a bit.

“Over your head! Button on the right!” It was Jonas. What resembled a bullet-proof vest tumbled through the air at her, striking her leg. Her eyes widened at the recognition of what it was. Aern recognized it as well and pushed against the tree to stand, but slipped down again as the tree gave. It fell with a dusty thump a few feet from where Cynthia stood. She had pulled the oversized armor over her shoulders, tapping at the button on the belt over and over like that would make it activate faster.

Aern ran at her. This would be the death blow if… Lights ran up through the armor and she felt a slight tingle on her skin right before Aern hurled himself over the fallen tree and struck her with what felt like all he could give. She tumbled through the air like she’d been thrown through the windshield of a moving vehicle, but her skull was intact and, although it hurt, it was a hundred times less painful than it would have been moments earlier. She slid several yards, bounced off the trunk of another tree and rolled to a stop.
Fair fight again
, she thought, catching her breath; she jumped to her feet.

She felt bones stirring in her body, which wasn’t the most normal of sensations. In fact, her insides were on fire. She needed a few moments, but there was no way Aern would give them. It wasn’t lost on her that one broken bone had healed in seconds, but the amount of damage he’d done seemed to have backed up the assembly line. But, as she hobbled backward, looking like a toddler trying on daddy’s suit coat, she could see the first bit of fear in his eyes. She found that she liked it.