Double Dose, page 29
(“Jason’s never been less than a good friend to you.”)
But he isn’t human.
(“Yes, there’s that, but you say it like it’s a bad thing.”)
What’s that supposed to mean?
(“Oh, like all the humans you know are wonderful?”)
Billy Marks immediately came to mind. And Karma Kendrick, of course.
Point taken.
The people gathered in front of Healerina got busy with their smartphones when she appeared but made way for her. The two Tadhaks had an implacable way of moving that discouraged anyone from impeding them. The side doors split as she approached and her escort let her enter first, then followed.
The interior was like any other bus except the windows weren’t tinted—at least from this direction.
(“Sort of like a one-way mirror,”) Pard said. (“Light passes through in only one direction.”)
As the doors shooshed closed, Daley took a seat somewhere near the middle while her two guides seated themselves in the rear. The bus followed the usual route—up the hill and to the left to the high beige meringue wall at the end of the road. The bus slowed only slightly as the massive door swung open, then stopped before the second door, which opened only after the first had closed behind them.
Reminds me of the entrance to the warehouse at the windfarm.
(“With good reason,”) Pard said as they entered a wide courtyard with tall, slim pine trees soaring beyond.
Daley’s ears popped. The smooth meringue wall of the compound had become a high wooden plank fence. The bus stopped, the doors slid open, and the first thing Daley noticed as she stepped out was that the air was different—cooler, thinner—and the sun was higher in the sky. A huge, rustic, two-story, log-walled building with a green roof lay straight ahead.
(“I believe those are ponderosa pines,”) Pard said. (“If you’ll pardon the paraphrase, Daley, I’ve a feeling we’re not in California anymore.”)
Then where on Earth are we—I mean, we are on Earth, aren’t we?
(“The sun looks like ours but a good hour higher, so, my best guess? Colorado.”)
After what she’d seen at the windfarm, this didn’t come as a shock. Okay, a bit of a shock, but not terrible. It explained why the Tadhak who’d greeted her at the door on Monday knew nothing about the earthquake that had rattled Nespodee Springs just moments before.
Her two escorts plus the driver exited behind her.
“Jason’s in the main house,” one of them said. “We’ll take you to him.”
He moved off toward the big building. Daley followed him inside. In contrast to the log-cabin style of the exterior, the interior was sleek and modern, with stark white walls totally free of decoration. Jason stood waiting in the center of the high-ceilinged great room.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” he said.
His right arm was in a sling; he wore a brace on his left knee. Other than that, he didn’t look much worse for wear.
“I’m glad to see you up and about,” Daley said. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“Yes, well, my injuries were more extensive than originally thought. Please,” he said, indicating two easy chairs by the cold fireplace. “Have a seat.”
When they were settled—with Pard leaning against the mantle—Jason offered coffee or tea but she declined.
She said, “Pretty obvious now why no one from the town has ever been allowed through the gates.”
“Well, you already know more than any of the townies, more even than Cadoc Pendry, and that nosy bastard knows too much.” He gestured around. “Where do you think we are?”
She remembered what Pard had said. “Colorado?”
Jason inclined his head. “Very good. Yes, not too far from Pueblo.”
Daley was confused. “That storage area was bigger on the inside than the outside, but this is like teleportation?”
“No. They’re both the same. It’s a special pairing of doors: when the first one closes, the second opens into a different place. You people aren’t ready for it yet. You came very close to developing something similar not too long ago when the Americans put a German physicist named Osterhagen to work for them after World War Two. He called his project ‘Lange-Tür’ which translates to ‘Long Door.’ A clever name, but that was as far as the cleverness went. They never got it working, and the idiots probably never will.”
This was a different Jason from who she was used to: bitter, verging on hostile. The real Jason Tadhak?
“What else do you know?” Jason said.
Daley glanced at Pard. Tell him?
(“I don’t think you’ll be telling him anything he doesn’t already assume we know.”)
Jason must have noticed her glance. He pointed with his free hand toward the fireplace. “Is your symbiont’s avatar over there?”
(“Oh, yeah. Assume he knows everything.”)
Daley nodded. “You know about him?”
His eyebrows lifted. “‘Him’? I’d assumed it would have adopted its host’s gender. But no matter. It must be quite an experience, having a sentient symbiont.”
“Yes. Quite.”
(“Don’t be snarky.”)
“A little frightening at first, I imagine.”
“Try terrifying. But you can get used to anything.”
He gave her a hard look. “No, Daley. You can’t.” He seemed to catch himself and leaned back. “So…you’re the Duad.”
“You know about that too?”
“There’s damn little we don’t know. We keep close watch on the Pendrys and know that Elis has been concerned about the coming of a Duad, which I’d assumed was you when you arrived with Juana.”
“Is that why you were so generous with the rent-free shop and apartment?”
He shrugged. “It cost me next to nothing and I wanted to keep you in town to see what effect you had on Elis. Call it an experiment, if you will. You people are nothing if not predictable, and he didn’t disappoint me. His behavior became increasingly desperate but I still wasn’t completely sure about you until your symbiont attempted to invade me.”
“He was only trying to help.”
“I realize that, and appreciate it, I suppose, even though he was grossly underqualified to be of any use. I assume he was damaged when he was so forcibly rejected.”
“He was out of commission for a couple of days, but he’s okay now.”
“So I gathered. What did he have to say about the experience?”
Daley hesitated, then, “You have no idea how weird it is to say this to someone, but he says you’re not human.”
Jason gave a quick nod, said, “Correct,” and then let it hang there for a few heartbeats before adding, “but you might have suspected that after Cadoc Pendry showed you our storage space at the windfarm.”
“You know we were there?”
“Of course. That perimeter patrol is just for show. We know what transpires on our properties at all times.”
“We suspected alien technology but never dreamed…”
“That we had it because we’re aliens?”
“Are we talking space aliens? Like with UFOs and the like?”
Jason barked a very human laugh. “Not at all. By ‘alien’ I mean ‘not from here.’ We didn’t cross interstellar space to get here, we crossed layers of the multiverse.”
“But why?”
So surreal to be sitting here casually discussing interdimensional travel with a member of an alien race that had invaded Earth.
“Believe me, we’re not here because we want to be. You humans are wholly barbaric and your civilization is dreadfully primitive. Every day among you is an imposition. We’re here because the environment of our home world was rendered uninhabitable by the beings the idiot Pendrys call the Visitors.”
Daley couldn’t hide her shock. “Wait…the Visitors are real? I thought they were just some crazy ancient myth from those Scrolls the Pendrys have.”
“The Teachings of the Empty Places—the so-called Void Scrolls—are full of lies, but that part is true. The Rymwyr—that’s the closest the human tongue can come to pronouncing the name of their race—once occupied areas of Earth, the Salton trough being one of them. The alaret—the source of your symbiont—is a leftover from those dim past times. In fact they were the equivalent of ticks or lice on the Rymwyr.”
(“Oh, wait a minute now—wait just a—”)
“You’ve upset him,” Daley said.
“Isn’t that too bad? I’m supposed to worry about the feelings of a former cave slug? Just stating a fact.”
I used to like him. Is this the real Jason?
(“I’m thinking so.”)
Daley said, “Are you having a bad day?”
“Every day here is a bad day. Does your symbiont have a name?”
“Pard.”
“‘Pard’…interesting.”
“You mean ‘hokey,’ don’t you?”
(“Are you still carping about my name?”)
Jason turned toward the mantle. “Well, Pard, as for your feelings, I doubt you have any, so don’t take this as an apology. It’s not.” Back to Daley: “But you, young lady, you’re rather well-spoken these days—improved from the uncommunicative and largely inarticulate girl who arrived here.”
“Well, if that’s a compliment, it totally sucks. But be that as it may, I have Pard to thank.”
Not to mention rescuing me from certain grievous injuries.
Pard inclined his head. (“De nada.”)
Jason said, “The symbiotic relationship has obviously benefitted you both, but it also forms a bridge between the Rymwyr and humanity.”
Daley wasn’t so sure she liked that. “I’m connected to the Visitors?”
Jason made a face. “The Visitors…such a benign name for a vicious, destructive, parasitic race. Call them the Rymwyr.”
Vicious…destructive…parasitic…and Elis Pendry wanted to bring them back?
“Does your race have a name?”
He tilted his head. “Why…’Tadhak,’ of course.”
(“Of course.”)
“So…the Rymwyr left Earth and ruined your world, driving out the survivors. Is that why you chose to move here? Because they’d already come and gone?”
Jason shook his head. “No. Because they’ll be back.”
That didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
Daley said, “I saw this film the Pendrys made. It referred to the Visitors—the Rymwyr—as ‘the Lords of Creation.’”
Another laugh, bitter this time. “The Rymwyr are lords of nothing! They can manipulate minds and matter, but they create nothing! As formidable as they may be, they’re just minor players in a drama unfolding on a cosmic stage. They didn’t leave Earth on their own accord—they were kicked out by vast entities that dwarf them and are far more powerful than they could ever be. But they never relinquished the hope of coming back. They migrated to our planet and remade it to their liking—virtually wiping out one of the most exalted civilizations in the multiverse.”
(“No problems with self-esteem here.”)
Well, yeah, but still…
“All? An entire race? That’s horrible. I’m so sorry. But why’d you come here if you know they’ll be back?”
“First off, we don’t need your sympathy. And second, we’ve been waiting for them. They plan to return and repopulate Earth with sympatico creatures that will transform the planet into a nightmare for humans—just like they did to our world. But when they arrive, we’ll have a little surprise for them.”
“How…how long have you been here?”
“A long, long time. Our patience is frayed, frankly. We adopted this bizarre and clumsy human form and made lives for ourselves here while we await their return. We wrote The Void Scrolls as part of a long-term plan to influence feeble minds and trick gullible humans into aiding the return of the Rymwyr.”
“And those gullible humans happen to belong to the Pendry clan.”
“They do. And most recently the spread of what you people call ‘the horrors’ is proof that the return of the Rymwyr is imminent.”
“They’re connected?”
A nod. “Very much so.”
(“I never would have guessed. Mainly because I never would have guessed the Visitors had any basis in reality. But I knew the images were emanating from somewhere. Now I know where.”)
“What’s the connection?”
“I don’t know if your infantile minds can understand the situation, but let’s start by presenting you with a harsh fact: We are property. Humans, Tadhak, the Rymwyr…all property, all pieces in a game we can never fully comprehend, all playthings of vast, incomprehensible entities.”
What’s he talking about?
(“Why don’t you ask him?”)
“What entities?”
“I can’t give you their names because they don’t have names.”
“They’ve got to have names.”
“You humans love to name things. You somehow feel a thing is manageable then because once it’s labeled and pigeonholed you can stick it in a box and put it away for safekeeping. Well, not when you’re dealing with beings so vast and so few. The only names you have are those made up by your fellow pets—names like ‘the Ally’ and ‘the Otherness.’ The best you can expect from the so-called Ally—or any of the entities, for that matter—is indifference. The Otherness, however, is vicious and destructive. Both collect sapient worlds. Currently Earth is in the pocket of the Ally but that’s about to change. I believe the Otherness is pushing the Rymwyr to return here to act as some sort of vanguard. Thus, the horrors.”
“I’m not following.”
“The horrors emanate from the Rymwyr to susceptible human minds and place them in a state of constant terror. We learned on my home world that the Rymwyr take sustenance from fear. Thousands of humans spending every minute in abject fear provides a very tempting and sustaining environment.”
“Do the Pendrys know this?”
“There’s no way for them to make the connection. But you, Daley…by healing the horrors, you deny the Rymwyr a source of strength.”
That’s why he wanted me here…why he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
(“The light dawns.”)
Odd stories and strange theories she’d heard during the past few weeks were beginning to come together.
“Juana says Pard and I became paired for a reason, that my ‘coming’ was foretold. She even gave me an ancient art stone with a drawing on it that looks an awful lot like me. Pard and I come along just when the horrors starts ramping up. This can’t all be coincidence.”
Jason looked like he’d bitten into something rotten. “You don’t actually believe in coincidences, do you? The entities make moves and countermoves. I have little doubt that events were manipulated to maneuver you into a circumstance where you came in contact with an alaret and the two of you formed a Duad.”
Manipulated…I hate that idea
(“I fear we might have to get used to it—especially if we are all, as he says, ‘property.’”)
A thought struck Daley with the force of a blow.
“Wait a minute. You said the Rymwyr ruined your planet and killed off your race, and yet, according to Rhys, you’re helping his father’s plans by providing all the extra power he needs to run the tower. We humans have an expression for that sort of thing. It goes: What the fuck?”
“You humans have an expression for everything, don’t you. If your critical thinking faculties were even rudimentally developed, you wouldn’t have to ask. But very well, now we get to the crux of why I brought you here today. Now that you and the two Pendry boys know the clan’s plans regarding the Rymwyr, you feel compelled to stop them. I brought you here to tell you to do nothing.”
“Nothing? Did I hear you right? Just let it happen?”
“This is correct. Go on curing the horrors, by all means, but hands off the tower.”
“But you’re talking about earthquakes taking thousands of lives.”
“I’m well aware of that. But here’s the situation: If you do something radical and decisive—say, dynamite the tower—”
I hadn’t thought of that.
(“I did.”)
“—you will certainly put an end to Elis Pendry’s plans.”
“Which is just what we want.”
“But you won’t put an end to the Rymwyr. They found a way here before and they’ll find one back again. We—the Tadhak—can and will, once and for all, put an end to the threat.”
“How?”
“By putting an end to the Rymwyr.”
(“Okay, that sounds even better.”)
“Again, how? No offense, but it doesn’t seem like there are enough of you.”
Jason rose and limped to the mantle where he stood next to Pard. “It’s not a matter of numbers. Elis Pendry must be allowed to open a passage for the Rymwyr, one that runs through the Void from my world—or rather, my former world—to this one. They will travel en masse, but before they arrive here we will trap them between planes.”
“But that will leave them just that much closer to us. If they break out of there—”
Jason stood shaking his head. “Try to wrap your feeble human mind around this. ‘Void’ is a misnomer in this case. It should mean an empty, neutral space. But it’s not empty. It’s hungry. You can pass straight through it and remain unharmed. But you can’t stay. If you linger, you will be absorbed. The Rymwyr will not survive the Void once we trap them there. It’s the permanent solution. But one that will never happen if the Pendrys don’t open the passage.”
Pard said, (“It remains to be seen whether they can open a passage at all. If they can’t, then we don’t have to do anything.”)
Good point.
She said, “But can they open a passage?”
“They already have. That night at the end of February when they ran that very public test of the tower—”
“The light show.”
She remembered helping Rhys test lightbulbs for wireless power via ground and air. The test had failed but the night had marked the starting point of their relationship. A relationship he’d pretty much ended on Tuesday.
“Yes,” Jason said. “Very primitive but it got the job done. While all eyes were on the tower, a Pendry Elder was afloat on the Salton Sea where he observed a small breach in the Veil. Too small to entice the Rymwyr through, but a breach nonetheless. They’d proven they could do it, but they needed more power to enlarge it. So, the next day they came to me to work a deal. This was an opportunity we’d been waiting for. I was more than happy to offer them all the power they needed and more.”
But he isn’t human.
(“Yes, there’s that, but you say it like it’s a bad thing.”)
What’s that supposed to mean?
(“Oh, like all the humans you know are wonderful?”)
Billy Marks immediately came to mind. And Karma Kendrick, of course.
Point taken.
The people gathered in front of Healerina got busy with their smartphones when she appeared but made way for her. The two Tadhaks had an implacable way of moving that discouraged anyone from impeding them. The side doors split as she approached and her escort let her enter first, then followed.
The interior was like any other bus except the windows weren’t tinted—at least from this direction.
(“Sort of like a one-way mirror,”) Pard said. (“Light passes through in only one direction.”)
As the doors shooshed closed, Daley took a seat somewhere near the middle while her two guides seated themselves in the rear. The bus followed the usual route—up the hill and to the left to the high beige meringue wall at the end of the road. The bus slowed only slightly as the massive door swung open, then stopped before the second door, which opened only after the first had closed behind them.
Reminds me of the entrance to the warehouse at the windfarm.
(“With good reason,”) Pard said as they entered a wide courtyard with tall, slim pine trees soaring beyond.
Daley’s ears popped. The smooth meringue wall of the compound had become a high wooden plank fence. The bus stopped, the doors slid open, and the first thing Daley noticed as she stepped out was that the air was different—cooler, thinner—and the sun was higher in the sky. A huge, rustic, two-story, log-walled building with a green roof lay straight ahead.
(“I believe those are ponderosa pines,”) Pard said. (“If you’ll pardon the paraphrase, Daley, I’ve a feeling we’re not in California anymore.”)
Then where on Earth are we—I mean, we are on Earth, aren’t we?
(“The sun looks like ours but a good hour higher, so, my best guess? Colorado.”)
After what she’d seen at the windfarm, this didn’t come as a shock. Okay, a bit of a shock, but not terrible. It explained why the Tadhak who’d greeted her at the door on Monday knew nothing about the earthquake that had rattled Nespodee Springs just moments before.
Her two escorts plus the driver exited behind her.
“Jason’s in the main house,” one of them said. “We’ll take you to him.”
He moved off toward the big building. Daley followed him inside. In contrast to the log-cabin style of the exterior, the interior was sleek and modern, with stark white walls totally free of decoration. Jason stood waiting in the center of the high-ceilinged great room.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” he said.
His right arm was in a sling; he wore a brace on his left knee. Other than that, he didn’t look much worse for wear.
“I’m glad to see you up and about,” Daley said. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“Yes, well, my injuries were more extensive than originally thought. Please,” he said, indicating two easy chairs by the cold fireplace. “Have a seat.”
When they were settled—with Pard leaning against the mantle—Jason offered coffee or tea but she declined.
She said, “Pretty obvious now why no one from the town has ever been allowed through the gates.”
“Well, you already know more than any of the townies, more even than Cadoc Pendry, and that nosy bastard knows too much.” He gestured around. “Where do you think we are?”
She remembered what Pard had said. “Colorado?”
Jason inclined his head. “Very good. Yes, not too far from Pueblo.”
Daley was confused. “That storage area was bigger on the inside than the outside, but this is like teleportation?”
“No. They’re both the same. It’s a special pairing of doors: when the first one closes, the second opens into a different place. You people aren’t ready for it yet. You came very close to developing something similar not too long ago when the Americans put a German physicist named Osterhagen to work for them after World War Two. He called his project ‘Lange-Tür’ which translates to ‘Long Door.’ A clever name, but that was as far as the cleverness went. They never got it working, and the idiots probably never will.”
This was a different Jason from who she was used to: bitter, verging on hostile. The real Jason Tadhak?
“What else do you know?” Jason said.
Daley glanced at Pard. Tell him?
(“I don’t think you’ll be telling him anything he doesn’t already assume we know.”)
Jason must have noticed her glance. He pointed with his free hand toward the fireplace. “Is your symbiont’s avatar over there?”
(“Oh, yeah. Assume he knows everything.”)
Daley nodded. “You know about him?”
His eyebrows lifted. “‘Him’? I’d assumed it would have adopted its host’s gender. But no matter. It must be quite an experience, having a sentient symbiont.”
“Yes. Quite.”
(“Don’t be snarky.”)
“A little frightening at first, I imagine.”
“Try terrifying. But you can get used to anything.”
He gave her a hard look. “No, Daley. You can’t.” He seemed to catch himself and leaned back. “So…you’re the Duad.”
“You know about that too?”
“There’s damn little we don’t know. We keep close watch on the Pendrys and know that Elis has been concerned about the coming of a Duad, which I’d assumed was you when you arrived with Juana.”
“Is that why you were so generous with the rent-free shop and apartment?”
He shrugged. “It cost me next to nothing and I wanted to keep you in town to see what effect you had on Elis. Call it an experiment, if you will. You people are nothing if not predictable, and he didn’t disappoint me. His behavior became increasingly desperate but I still wasn’t completely sure about you until your symbiont attempted to invade me.”
“He was only trying to help.”
“I realize that, and appreciate it, I suppose, even though he was grossly underqualified to be of any use. I assume he was damaged when he was so forcibly rejected.”
“He was out of commission for a couple of days, but he’s okay now.”
“So I gathered. What did he have to say about the experience?”
Daley hesitated, then, “You have no idea how weird it is to say this to someone, but he says you’re not human.”
Jason gave a quick nod, said, “Correct,” and then let it hang there for a few heartbeats before adding, “but you might have suspected that after Cadoc Pendry showed you our storage space at the windfarm.”
“You know we were there?”
“Of course. That perimeter patrol is just for show. We know what transpires on our properties at all times.”
“We suspected alien technology but never dreamed…”
“That we had it because we’re aliens?”
“Are we talking space aliens? Like with UFOs and the like?”
Jason barked a very human laugh. “Not at all. By ‘alien’ I mean ‘not from here.’ We didn’t cross interstellar space to get here, we crossed layers of the multiverse.”
“But why?”
So surreal to be sitting here casually discussing interdimensional travel with a member of an alien race that had invaded Earth.
“Believe me, we’re not here because we want to be. You humans are wholly barbaric and your civilization is dreadfully primitive. Every day among you is an imposition. We’re here because the environment of our home world was rendered uninhabitable by the beings the idiot Pendrys call the Visitors.”
Daley couldn’t hide her shock. “Wait…the Visitors are real? I thought they were just some crazy ancient myth from those Scrolls the Pendrys have.”
“The Teachings of the Empty Places—the so-called Void Scrolls—are full of lies, but that part is true. The Rymwyr—that’s the closest the human tongue can come to pronouncing the name of their race—once occupied areas of Earth, the Salton trough being one of them. The alaret—the source of your symbiont—is a leftover from those dim past times. In fact they were the equivalent of ticks or lice on the Rymwyr.”
(“Oh, wait a minute now—wait just a—”)
“You’ve upset him,” Daley said.
“Isn’t that too bad? I’m supposed to worry about the feelings of a former cave slug? Just stating a fact.”
I used to like him. Is this the real Jason?
(“I’m thinking so.”)
Daley said, “Are you having a bad day?”
“Every day here is a bad day. Does your symbiont have a name?”
“Pard.”
“‘Pard’…interesting.”
“You mean ‘hokey,’ don’t you?”
(“Are you still carping about my name?”)
Jason turned toward the mantle. “Well, Pard, as for your feelings, I doubt you have any, so don’t take this as an apology. It’s not.” Back to Daley: “But you, young lady, you’re rather well-spoken these days—improved from the uncommunicative and largely inarticulate girl who arrived here.”
“Well, if that’s a compliment, it totally sucks. But be that as it may, I have Pard to thank.”
Not to mention rescuing me from certain grievous injuries.
Pard inclined his head. (“De nada.”)
Jason said, “The symbiotic relationship has obviously benefitted you both, but it also forms a bridge between the Rymwyr and humanity.”
Daley wasn’t so sure she liked that. “I’m connected to the Visitors?”
Jason made a face. “The Visitors…such a benign name for a vicious, destructive, parasitic race. Call them the Rymwyr.”
Vicious…destructive…parasitic…and Elis Pendry wanted to bring them back?
“Does your race have a name?”
He tilted his head. “Why…’Tadhak,’ of course.”
(“Of course.”)
“So…the Rymwyr left Earth and ruined your world, driving out the survivors. Is that why you chose to move here? Because they’d already come and gone?”
Jason shook his head. “No. Because they’ll be back.”
That didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
Daley said, “I saw this film the Pendrys made. It referred to the Visitors—the Rymwyr—as ‘the Lords of Creation.’”
Another laugh, bitter this time. “The Rymwyr are lords of nothing! They can manipulate minds and matter, but they create nothing! As formidable as they may be, they’re just minor players in a drama unfolding on a cosmic stage. They didn’t leave Earth on their own accord—they were kicked out by vast entities that dwarf them and are far more powerful than they could ever be. But they never relinquished the hope of coming back. They migrated to our planet and remade it to their liking—virtually wiping out one of the most exalted civilizations in the multiverse.”
(“No problems with self-esteem here.”)
Well, yeah, but still…
“All? An entire race? That’s horrible. I’m so sorry. But why’d you come here if you know they’ll be back?”
“First off, we don’t need your sympathy. And second, we’ve been waiting for them. They plan to return and repopulate Earth with sympatico creatures that will transform the planet into a nightmare for humans—just like they did to our world. But when they arrive, we’ll have a little surprise for them.”
“How…how long have you been here?”
“A long, long time. Our patience is frayed, frankly. We adopted this bizarre and clumsy human form and made lives for ourselves here while we await their return. We wrote The Void Scrolls as part of a long-term plan to influence feeble minds and trick gullible humans into aiding the return of the Rymwyr.”
“And those gullible humans happen to belong to the Pendry clan.”
“They do. And most recently the spread of what you people call ‘the horrors’ is proof that the return of the Rymwyr is imminent.”
“They’re connected?”
A nod. “Very much so.”
(“I never would have guessed. Mainly because I never would have guessed the Visitors had any basis in reality. But I knew the images were emanating from somewhere. Now I know where.”)
“What’s the connection?”
“I don’t know if your infantile minds can understand the situation, but let’s start by presenting you with a harsh fact: We are property. Humans, Tadhak, the Rymwyr…all property, all pieces in a game we can never fully comprehend, all playthings of vast, incomprehensible entities.”
What’s he talking about?
(“Why don’t you ask him?”)
“What entities?”
“I can’t give you their names because they don’t have names.”
“They’ve got to have names.”
“You humans love to name things. You somehow feel a thing is manageable then because once it’s labeled and pigeonholed you can stick it in a box and put it away for safekeeping. Well, not when you’re dealing with beings so vast and so few. The only names you have are those made up by your fellow pets—names like ‘the Ally’ and ‘the Otherness.’ The best you can expect from the so-called Ally—or any of the entities, for that matter—is indifference. The Otherness, however, is vicious and destructive. Both collect sapient worlds. Currently Earth is in the pocket of the Ally but that’s about to change. I believe the Otherness is pushing the Rymwyr to return here to act as some sort of vanguard. Thus, the horrors.”
“I’m not following.”
“The horrors emanate from the Rymwyr to susceptible human minds and place them in a state of constant terror. We learned on my home world that the Rymwyr take sustenance from fear. Thousands of humans spending every minute in abject fear provides a very tempting and sustaining environment.”
“Do the Pendrys know this?”
“There’s no way for them to make the connection. But you, Daley…by healing the horrors, you deny the Rymwyr a source of strength.”
That’s why he wanted me here…why he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
(“The light dawns.”)
Odd stories and strange theories she’d heard during the past few weeks were beginning to come together.
“Juana says Pard and I became paired for a reason, that my ‘coming’ was foretold. She even gave me an ancient art stone with a drawing on it that looks an awful lot like me. Pard and I come along just when the horrors starts ramping up. This can’t all be coincidence.”
Jason looked like he’d bitten into something rotten. “You don’t actually believe in coincidences, do you? The entities make moves and countermoves. I have little doubt that events were manipulated to maneuver you into a circumstance where you came in contact with an alaret and the two of you formed a Duad.”
Manipulated…I hate that idea
(“I fear we might have to get used to it—especially if we are all, as he says, ‘property.’”)
A thought struck Daley with the force of a blow.
“Wait a minute. You said the Rymwyr ruined your planet and killed off your race, and yet, according to Rhys, you’re helping his father’s plans by providing all the extra power he needs to run the tower. We humans have an expression for that sort of thing. It goes: What the fuck?”
“You humans have an expression for everything, don’t you. If your critical thinking faculties were even rudimentally developed, you wouldn’t have to ask. But very well, now we get to the crux of why I brought you here today. Now that you and the two Pendry boys know the clan’s plans regarding the Rymwyr, you feel compelled to stop them. I brought you here to tell you to do nothing.”
“Nothing? Did I hear you right? Just let it happen?”
“This is correct. Go on curing the horrors, by all means, but hands off the tower.”
“But you’re talking about earthquakes taking thousands of lives.”
“I’m well aware of that. But here’s the situation: If you do something radical and decisive—say, dynamite the tower—”
I hadn’t thought of that.
(“I did.”)
“—you will certainly put an end to Elis Pendry’s plans.”
“Which is just what we want.”
“But you won’t put an end to the Rymwyr. They found a way here before and they’ll find one back again. We—the Tadhak—can and will, once and for all, put an end to the threat.”
“How?”
“By putting an end to the Rymwyr.”
(“Okay, that sounds even better.”)
“Again, how? No offense, but it doesn’t seem like there are enough of you.”
Jason rose and limped to the mantle where he stood next to Pard. “It’s not a matter of numbers. Elis Pendry must be allowed to open a passage for the Rymwyr, one that runs through the Void from my world—or rather, my former world—to this one. They will travel en masse, but before they arrive here we will trap them between planes.”
“But that will leave them just that much closer to us. If they break out of there—”
Jason stood shaking his head. “Try to wrap your feeble human mind around this. ‘Void’ is a misnomer in this case. It should mean an empty, neutral space. But it’s not empty. It’s hungry. You can pass straight through it and remain unharmed. But you can’t stay. If you linger, you will be absorbed. The Rymwyr will not survive the Void once we trap them there. It’s the permanent solution. But one that will never happen if the Pendrys don’t open the passage.”
Pard said, (“It remains to be seen whether they can open a passage at all. If they can’t, then we don’t have to do anything.”)
Good point.
She said, “But can they open a passage?”
“They already have. That night at the end of February when they ran that very public test of the tower—”
“The light show.”
She remembered helping Rhys test lightbulbs for wireless power via ground and air. The test had failed but the night had marked the starting point of their relationship. A relationship he’d pretty much ended on Tuesday.
“Yes,” Jason said. “Very primitive but it got the job done. While all eyes were on the tower, a Pendry Elder was afloat on the Salton Sea where he observed a small breach in the Veil. Too small to entice the Rymwyr through, but a breach nonetheless. They’d proven they could do it, but they needed more power to enlarge it. So, the next day they came to me to work a deal. This was an opportunity we’d been waiting for. I was more than happy to offer them all the power they needed and more.”
