Last Command of the Witheld Arc 1: Rebirth

BELKNAP MOUNTAIN, NEW HAMPSHIRE, SIX MONTHS AGO

Reese Tucker stood at her little stove, watching the kettle spout for that telltale spurt of steam right before it started whistling. She hated the whistle but liked her tea very hot. She wasn’t paying attention to it though. Her mind was wandering; a much more common occurrence now than it ever used to be. It was a new and disturbing sensation.

She pulled the tea off the stove at just the right time and poured a mug, adding milk and sugar. She idly stirred the tea, enjoying the quiet ritual of the act. It was good to focus on these little pleasures, the doctors told her. Keep her interest in life, keep her fighting. But she’d been fighting for so long now that she knew when her battle was over. She’d known for quite a while now.

Sunlight filtered in through the big window by the old kitchen table. It was a big old heavy thing that she’d bought almost forty years ago now. It still had some of Griffin’s little drawings on it, scratched into the table with his fork when he was feeling rebellious. She kept meaning to sand and refinish the table, but she’d never gotten around to it. It was one of the last things she had from their house in Kentucky, from before the divorce.

She glanced over at the picture of their little family, faded now from years in the sun, still framed and dusty on the wall under the clock hanging by the disconnected (but still present) landline phone. Mark was very handsome—athletic and tall, very all-American. He had blue eyes like Clint Eastwood and Robert Redford hair. But behind the confidence and masculine bravado, he’d been distant and withdrawn. Their marriage had been dry and passionless. He’d seemed relieved when she handed the papers to him after Griffin had been born. She bore him no ill will for that relief, especially now.

She found her eyes drifting to the clock on the wall before she forced them back to her tea. He was now twenty-eight minutes late. Of course he was late. She’d been expecting him to track her down for years, but it had still taken her by surprise when he’d asked to meet in person. It did not surprise her that he was late to this meeting. He was probably doing some kind of subtle power play.

She heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up from her tea and out of the living room window and saw an improbable car painted an iridescent purple-green. It looked more like a movie prop or video game than like something someone would ever actually drive. She half expected it to take off and fly away like the DeLorean in Back to the Future.

The door opened, folding itself in half and lifting up and out. The driver of the car stepped out, dressed in an immaculately tailored suit of charcoal grey with a deep purple pocket kerchief, white dress shirt, and royal purple tie tied in an ornate knot. The man the suit contained was no less impressive.

August Vasilias always knew how to make an entrance. He was tall and broad, built like a boxer or professional weight-lifter. He had dark, nearly ebony skin with aquiline features and grey eyes. He wore his beard close-cut now, and his hair was a neat cascade of dredlocks, held back with a silver clasp. He looked around at the rural setting in mild disgust and Reese sighed. He had always been so arrogant.

When she answered the door, she was deeply satisfied by his shocked expression, “Hello, August,” she said, “you look well.” She knew she didn’t look well, it was written all over his face.

“Cerise…?” His deep voice was hesitant and there was a hint of a question. “You look…different.”

“I look old, August. Old and sick.” She sighed, this wasn’t going to be easy. “Come on in, I’ve got tea. I’ve been waiting for you. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

He walked in behind her, eyes roving over her home. He was confused by its utter…plainness. He looked from her comfortable, ancient couch to her bookshelves stuffed with old novels and reference books, to her tiny kitchen with a few dirty dishes in the sink and seemed so lost to her. He was trying to project power and confidence, but she’d imbalanced him and he was struggling to regain his equanimity.

He seemed a little dazed as he sat down at the scratched-up table in one of the heavy wooden kitchen chairs. Reese made him a mug of tea in a Lord of the Rings mug that Griffin had given her. When it got hot, the mug showed the One Ring on it, complete with Elven script. She set it down in front of August, not adding any cream or sugar. He never added anything to tea.

They sat like that for a long while, neither one of them talking, both of them just looking at each other. August obviously expected her to speak first, but she had no interest in playing his games. She would wait him out.

Finally, August said, “I…I’m sorry I’m late. Your home is difficult to find.” He frowned, not liking to make the admission.

“It was difficult to find on purpose, August. I was in hiding,” she sipped her tea and set it back down, watching his expression. He was still off-balance, though he was beginning to mask it.

“I know we have had our differences in the past, Cerise—”

She snorted, “You tried to kill me and take my tensa, August. For the past two thousand years I’ve been having to expend a great deal of effort to stymie your mad fucking plan; I would call that a bit more than ‘differences’. Spare me from your euphemisms and at least be honest with yourself.”

“You have your perspective, I have mine,” August replied stiffly. “Did you accept this meeting merely to harangue me for taking actions any Amethyst-rank Ascendant would take? Come on, hypocrisy doesn’t fit you, Cerise,” Cerise mused that his voice always became resonant when he became self-righteous. “You and I have done much worse in the—no.” He cut himself off and shook his head, “I’m not going to do this. That’s not why I’m here.”

Cerise nodded, “I know why you contacted me August.”

August lowered his voice and leaned forward, ignoring Cerise’s comment, “I bungled the delivery, I know, but let me try again. Cerise. I’ve done it! I’ve found Nolm!” His eyes were wide and he had a huge smile plastered across his face. It fell slowly as the seconds ticked by and Cerise failed to react.

Finally, she sighed and took pity on him, “I know you have, August. Why the hell do you think I’ve been hiding from you all this time?”

That stunned him into silence. For a few seconds anyway. He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes sparking with intensity, “Don’t you see what this means? We can go home! Finally!” He gestured with his mug, “Clearly, you need to return. Look at you, you’re practically dead!”

“How very kind of you to point that out, August,” she said, acidly. “I’m aware of my condition. Acutely aware. I’ve been fighting cancer for a year now because of you!” August stared at her, once more at a loss for words. She seemed to be able to do that a lot these days. “It’s a losing battle. A lost one, truth be told.” She sighed again, the anger draining from her voice. “I don’t have much time left. The doctors say I should have been dead months ago.”

“Cancer?” August scoffed, “Amethyst-rank Reborn cannot get cancer. Your ‘doctors’ were obviously mistaken. Now please, no more excuses. I realize you have formed some kind of attachment to this place, but I’m talking a return home!”

Cerise rolled her eyes and leaned forward, keeping her expression serene but firm. “Don’t be tiresome, August, it’s not actually cancer. The doctors call it cancer because they can’t really figure out what else to call it. I’ve seen the charts. I’m intimately familiar with its true nature.”

“What—”

Cerise shook her head tiredly, “You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you? You could never adjust to life here, always trying to make Earth into Nolm. Well, now your mad plan has finally succeeded.”

“Oh, this old argument again!” August exploded.

“Listen, August!” She brought to bear what tatters of her anima remained. The pathetic attempt seemed to cut through his temper even more than it would have had she been full strength. “I have the Bleakness. And because you have sufficiently weakened the Vuoita Carserai, so do you.”

August reacted like she had told him she had the plague. He stumbled back from the table, toppling the chair to the floor behind him. He was halfway across the living room before he seemed to catch himself and stopped short. He composed himself, picking up the chair and setting it back up stiffly. His voice was soft as he said, “Your death will sadden me, Cerise. I’d hoped… Well, the construction of the Gate is nearly done. When it was completed, I had hoped to take you with me, but…”

“You have it, August. You have the Bleakness.”

August shook his head, “No. You’re mistaken. This is a deflection and a poor one at that. You’ve always been trying to dissuade me from this course of action. Your love for these people—”

“I’m not going to argue the morality of your decisions anymore. I’m out of time, out of energy,” she sighed. “It’s the Gate, isn’t it? You’ve enacted your plan but you don’t know how to design the dimensional linkages. You’d always assumed I would be there for you.”

“I have the coordinates and the basic design,” he said stiffly, “But initial tests have been… messy. You’re the best etheric engineer I know—” he walked back over to the table, placing a hand on her shoulder. She glanced down at it and noticed that he had put thick black leather gloves on.

“I’m the only etheric engineer on the planet,” she reminded him.

“More to the point you’re the only etheric engineer on the planet. I’m sure that you could figure out the design flaw in moments.” He seemed to be resisting grinding his teeth, “I’d thought you’d be grateful to get off this dead rock.”

She carefully took his gloved hand off her shoulder. “I thought so too. But there was a heavy price we paid, August, to get to where we are. That price won’t be denied. You can’t circumvent it.”

August put his hands behind his back and shrugged, “We accomplished a goal, Cerise. Just like every other Quest. We completed the Quest, we got our Reward. That’s the way it works. Even when there’s no System to make sure the Quest is truly complete or the Reward is really fair, that’s the way it works. Everything that came after… our whole misunderstanding… well. That’s just life, right?”

He chuckled, though it sounded forced, “And you don’t know that you have the Bleakness. I’m sure once we get back to Nolm and find a real Healer to fix you up, you’ll be good as new.” He knelt next to Cerise, looking at her in the eye. “Help me make the Gate. Please.”

Wordlessly, she stood up from her chair at the table and walked into the little kitchen. She opened a drawer and pulled out the sharpest knife she had: an old paring knife that had come with the cabin when she’d bought it almost twenty years ago. It had an edge that would put shaving razors to shame. She held the knife in her left hand and walked back to the table, sitting back down. She looked up at August and, still completely silently, cut a small gash along her right forearm.

August didn’t attempt to stop her and didn’t look particularly alarmed, though he had raised one dark eyebrow. His eyes widened slightly when, instead of blood dripping out of the cut, what looked like ink dribbled slowly down her arm. It bubbled and hissed in the air and dark, black smoke drifted up smelling like burning tires. Cerise passed a hand over the cut and it closed slowly, leaving no evidence of either the wound or the inky substance that had leaked out of her.

“It’s in the final stages August. I knew the moment you took the first battery from the Vuoita Carserai.” She looked up at a picture hanging on the wall which showed her standing with the President and the head of NASA. She laughed drily, “I just couldn’t believe that the Americans actually sent another mission to the Moon after I had funded so many lobbies which hobbled space exploration. I practically defunded NASA…”

August chuckled, “It wasn’t the Americans.”

“Then who?”

“China. Their Long March 12 rockets are years ahead of anything in the United States. They haven’t been defunding their space program for the past fifty years.”

She sighed again, “That figures. You always liked the Chinese. You lived in—where was it?”

“Chang’an. For forty-eight years, in the height of the Han dynasty,” August replied, his face troubled. “You ruined my best shenyi robe that night. I never did replace it. You have it, don’t you? The Bleakness, I mean.” He cleared his throat and sat back down. “And what, ah, what makes you so certain…that I…?”

August’s words caught in his throat as the daylight in the room abruptly flickered and then was slowly strangled until it was utterly dark. Then, just as abruptly, the light returned just as before. August and Cerise immediately looked at a spot directly over the table where they’d sensed the complete absence of anything. Floating there, four feet above the table was a hole in the air about a foot across. Nothing could be seen through the hole—not darkness, not light, nothing. Dry laughter filled both of their minds at once. It sounded like it came from a dead thing, like something that only mimicked laughter in mockery.

A voice both of them had never thought they’d hear again echoed in their minds. I told you that your prison was destined for failure. It gives me great satisfaction to tell you that my day is at hand, just as I always predicted. The voice didn’t have any sound. It left the memory of words, though nothing spoke. Only a little more time now. Just a few more months and then you’ll set me free… The presence and the voice faded from their minds. The lights in the room returned to normal.

August and Cerise stood there for a long moment as that dry, dead voice left their minds. Cerise shuddered and looked at August, “The Herald is growing stronger. This world doesn’t have much time and I don’t either.”

August started to say something, but Cerise held up her hand, cutting him off, “I’ll help you with your Gate on two conditions: allow me to test you for Bleakness. If the test results are positive, then we’ll talk about the second condition.”

“You’re so sure.”

She nodded, and he considered for a long moment, staring at the healed cut in her arm, the memory of that black inky smoke still strong. “What is your second condition?”

She shook her head. “You either take my help with the Gate with my conditions as they are or you don’t get my help. This isn’t a negotiation, it’s my price for being complicit in this.”

August stayed for a long moment, his grey eyes looking like flint to Cerise as she held her breath, waiting. Finally, after a long moment, August gave the only answer he really could, “Agreed. I have a plane waiting at the airport in Laconia. It will be leaving tonight at nine. Make sure you are on it.”

Cerise nodded and August looked like he was going to say something else, then he turned and left, slamming her door on the way out. The car in the driveway roared to life and sped off down the lane, flinging rocks and dirt everywhere in its haste. Cerise sat there for a long time afterward, staring out her window at the woods before she began making preparations to leave.