Histories of the Void Garden, Book 1: Pyre of Dreams (51 page)

Tiernan sat hunched
over the metal topped table, biting each egg in half before
swallowing it down. Between eggs, he chugged half-heartedly from a
pitcher which contained a delicious mix of whey protein, blended
nuts, greens, cottage cheese and raw ground beef.

Toan leaned his
head on his knuckles, elbows on the table, all the time watching
for that telltale sneer of disdain that he often saw on Tiernan’s
face. Three thousand lifetimes, and Tiernan still felt like he was
different. Toan had talked to him about it many times over the
years, hoping to get some magnificent profundity from great man.
Tiernan had admitted that he had a bias that was difficult to shake
at first and that other things went beyond actual bias, becoming
social ticks or spasms of muscle memory. Toan had, on many such
occasions, expressed his opinion that Tiernan was full of shit. He
never backed down from the conversation though, which Toan
respected.

“There’s really
nothing on file for this Stupins Institute. No building plans, no
code inspections, nothing from the utilities companies.” Toan
talked to himself, not caring if Tiernan listened,” I’ve had a team
skimming the rills, looking specifically at the vicinity of the
building, scanning over the past century and a half. There’s a gap
which coincides almost completely with the largest gap in Thrass’s
record. Then the building just appears fully formed in 1906. Best
guess is Thrass built it.”

Tiernan took a
pause from the eggs and looked up. He thought about berating the
man, but there really wasn’t time. He was doing his job. Actually,
Tiernan thought as he stuffed another egg into his mouth, Toan
wasn’t even doing his job right now; he was going above the call of
duty. He was attempting to bore the leader of the free world into a
stupor while watching him cram eggs into his face… “so by the time
we touch down,” Toan continued, “there should be very little to
see”

Tiernan grinned
broadly, egg whites creating the illusion of a confusing abundance
of teeth, “You realize you’re going to have to go through all of
this again in a minute?” He glanced at the bowl of eggs and the two
pitchers of shake he still had left to drink, “You want to shut up
and help me finish this? Seems a shame to waste it.”

Stephanie felt the
weight over her eyelids and the bridge of her nose, felt the touch
of soft fingertips on the skin of her face.

“Follow me,”
Stanwick whispered, “All of you.”

Down the grand
staircase, Stephanie’s finger’s slalomed.

“In a moment, I
want you to think about what you dreamed last night. Remember it.
Let it pour out of you.”

A minute
between heartbeats, a hundred lifetimes lived between.

In the sweet,
heady rush of infinity, Stephanie felt him … saw the breadth of his
reign.

“I didn’t mean
for you to see that.”

“Don’t lie to
yourself.” Stephanie replied.

“Whats wrong?”
Stephanie’s nose wrinkled, her lips pursed to form a perfect bow.
She bowed her head, touching Stanwick’s chin with her small
fingers. She hadn’t really meant the words. Not how they had
sounded. She wished she could take them back.

Somewhere she
hadn’t said them.

Somewhere she
would never say a word that would cause Stanwick pain.

It was a subtle
shift. Stephanie saw it first as a play on light; the vanishing
traces of ghosting images, with Stanwick’s bent over form twirling
and pirouetting, each one of a hundred reactions dancing through
phases of uncertainty, illuminated by a cluster of stars that never
came to be. Then there was one, and Stephanie could see the change
in Stanwick. She looked into her eyes and she knew. She knew that
she had caused a change, because there, kneeling in front of her
was a version of Stanwick who had never heard those hurtful
words.

Not a shadow.
Really her, like looking glass Alice had stepped through and left a
universe of possibilities in her wake.

Stanwick hugged
her, squeezing her tightly, shattered and afraid, because as she
held her, she could see her first glimpse of the woman that
Stephanie might become.

Stanwick
gasped, “What just happened?”

Stephanie
squinted, a lie of omission forming on the tip of her tongue.
Knowing full well, she asked Stanwick, “What do you mean?”

Stanwick took
the child’s hands in hers, “I just felt something. Something I’ve
never felt before.”

As she felt the
whispers of the delvers through Stephanie’s velvet soft palms, she
started to see what the child had achieved. It was monumental.
Unthinkable.

“Stephanie,”Stanwick spoke slowly, gently, “You can’t do that.”

Stephanie
smiled and waited for Stanwick to return her smile. She blinked,
her smile falling slowly. It wasn’t a game.

“I don’t
understand what you did.” Stanwick continued, careful of her words,
because she meant them, “I’m scared for you, because I should know.
I’ve been around enough.” She looked at the wall behind Stephanie,
the universe flashing past, and she felt so confused, “I should
know it all by now Stephanie, and I don’t. I don’t understand what
you did just now, and I’m not sure anyone else in the world would
understand. But it’s not a game.”

Stephanie
smiled. Just a step ahead. It was all she needed to be.

Stanwick closed
her eyes, and when she opened them again, Stephanie saw such fury,
unlike anything she’d ever seen from her dad or aunt Han. She
pouted, pearl blue eyes glistening with tears, “I’m sorry. I don’t
realize I’m doing it.”

Stanwick shook
Stephanie’s hands gently, “Don’t lie to yourself.” The words
ricocheted around her head and her hands fell quickly to her sides.
She wanted it so badly. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She
tried again, marshaling her thoughts.

“You can
control it?”

Stephanie
nodded, then her head shook slowly, “I’m not sure.”

Stanwick took
up her hands once more, “You must. At least until you understand it
fully. I’ll help you.”

Stephanie
thought about everything she had seen in her dream. There was too
much. Unfathomable things she had witnessed, but she knew that
Stanwick was right. She would always help her.

“Your eyes,”
Stanwick leaned closer, “it looks like they’re healed.”

Stephanie
shrugged, “They’re better.” She struggled to articulate what she
meant, “I can see more. There’s less … It’s less fuzzy. There’s
more to see.” Then she heard the call, the tongues twisting inside,
“He’s waiting.”

Stanwick led her into
the chamber, following a different path to that which she’d
followed with the others. The twinkling lights spread out further
with each footstep, glowing brighter by the second. Her mind reeled
with the thrill of it; the thought of seeing him again, in all his
horror and glory. She reached her hand out, touching the wall in
just the right place.

Stephanie
blinked, mesmerized, and one of Dannum’s immense eyes blinked in
response. The slick rustling sound of his eyelid unfurling sending
shivers down her spine. She laughed, then as the head moved, her
laugher gave way to a squeal of fright. “Holy shish kebabs,” she
whispered, running towards the head, reaching her fingers towards
what she supposed in better light might pass as a lip. She had
imagined she would be able to see him. Not like this. All of him.
Now that she stood face to … well … mouth she guessed, it was clear
to her that she’d have to stand a long way from him to actually see
anything.

She looked at
Stanwick, “Does he,” then realizing how impolite she was being, her
eyes returned to the beast, “Do you bite?”

Dannum’s mind
moved slowly, unpracticed. He had waited so long.

Stephanie
smiled, leaning her head to one side, “You better bite. There’s an
army coming.”

Stanwick
stroked her fingers across a plate of metal on the floor, and a
large chest lifted slowly to her touch.

When she had
first started to build around Dannum, she had his voice in her head
constantly. It was something that she grew oddly attached to. He
was the most dreadful inner monologue. The voice that told her that
he could devour the world while she took her lunch. The voice that
told her he knew her every thought. That was rarely a convenient
thing to hear, but she grew to love it. When he went silent, it was
devastating, but she knew that there must be a way to hear him
again. He had mouths. Two to be precise, but he never used them for
talking.

She had drawn
the silk from his delvers, and it had proved so much easier. With
the silk of the delvers, she wove a blanket of glardium, large
enough that she could sleep on his back, and cover herself, falling
away into his memories, losing herself.

She pulled the
glardium out of the chest and called over to Stephanie.

“You will hear
him better with this.”

Stephanie ran
her finger over the material, drawing a shooting star, “Is it a
dress?”

Stanwick looked
apologetic, “It’s just a blanket, but if we wrap it right …”

Stephanie took
a corner of the weave in her hand and spun on the spot, wrapping
herself up tight, “Look! I’m a caterpillar.”

“You’re going
to become a butterfly then I suppose?”

“Mhmm.” She
opened up the blanket and flapped the cloth, her arms spread
wide.

Stanwick looked
away, feeling herself well up with emotion. She chanced another
look at her little butterfly, but it was too much. She choked up,
laughing at how wonderfully silly she was. The girl Spiff. She
wished she could stay like that forever. Dannum breathed in slowly,
the sound of his lungs expanding, creaking muscles, skin tightening
like so much stretched leather.

Stephanie
inhaled, still flapping slowly, “It’s so warm in here.”

Stanwick
nodded, “Dannum is warm blooded. Very warm blooded.”

“Can I touch
him?” She looked into his eye, squinting, screwing up her face,
“Can I touch you?”

“We need to get
you up there.” Stanwick pointed towards the mountainous body.

“I can’t
climb.” Stephanie confessed.

Stanwick shook
her head, “There’s nothing you can’t do Spiff.”

Stephanie
rolled her eyes, “Help me up. I’m serious. I suck at climbing.”

Then seventy
foot of neck creaked and groaned into life, two lips pursed
carefully about the glardium weave, and Stephanie was hoisted onto
the back of the Beast of the Void.

“You’re bigger
than I imagined.” Her voice quavered.

“I am
nothing.”

Stephanie
tilted back her head under the cloth and tried to mimic what she
heard, her throat hurting as she reached for the correct guttural
and glottal acrobatics, “I am Stephanie.” Dissatisfied, she tried
again, gurgling the words, “I am nothing.” She wiped her drool on
the back of her hand.

Two heads
breathed out together, the muscles of his back arching over
Stephanie’s head, “You are … the unwritten path. You are the
celestial plan for those without hope. Once, they would say that
when a soul passed, a star would be born. In the undrawn, in the
unknown, such a star may be.”

She lay down
flat, pressing her ear to his strangely smooth skin. Parts of him
were smooth at least. She guessed that overall, he was anything but
smooth, but right where she lay, he was smooth. She waited for him
to elaborate on his proclamation, pretty pleased with where he was
going with it.

“Go on …”

“You will be
hailed. They will exalt you. Stephanie, the Princess of the
Infinite.”

She giggled,
“Shut up.”

He went on, “I
dreamed once, and in that dream I saw a single thread. You see the
tapestry. You know the warp and weft of it. I saw one thread and
thought myself a god. How strange it must feel to see so much
more.”

She moved her
cheek, stretching her hands out, wishing that he could see her
dream.

“Guard your
dream young princess. For now I will be your guard, but I grow
weary of this form. Too long with thoughts that ebb and flow with
the tides. My blood boils for one man’s downfall.”

Stephanie
patted her hand gently. She shouted to Stanwick, “You coming
up?”

Her voice
responded from somewhere far below, “Dannum is not a horse
Spiff.”

Tiernan ached for
this. It had been more than a century since he had encountered real
combat. There was so much energy. Most of the troops had chosen to
forgo any concession to the fact that there would be cameras
watching. The most fearsome of them twitched and jostled, their
ferocious teeth on display, their eyes wild with hunger, their
musculature barely constrained by the ballistic armor. Those were
the Blood-Bastards who had stalked people’s nightmares for
centuries gone, giving rise to wild tales and dreaded titles.
Tiernan always reveled in the glory of a good title.

He watched the
soldiers load onto the three li-jet heavy transports. With two
armored transports on-board each aircraft, it would be cramped, but
having the support of the .50 caliber machine guns would be a
comfort. He stepped onto the tail ramp of the lead vehicle and
walked down the narrow isle between the troops. There was no
rallying cry. Toan had been exacting in the brief. No prisoners. No
survivors.

The walls of the
chamber began to tremor as Dannum moved, the huge ceiling canopy
folding up on itself, the tunnel above barely visible to
Stephanie’s eyes. The beast reared up and Stephanie tumbled
backwards into Stanwick’s arms, but Stanwick was ready with her
fingers dug deep into the flesh Dannum’s back, the leeches bonding
her to him. Two house sized claws reached up, grappling with the
coarse stone of the tunnel. Stephanie felt the rush of air warm air
on her face as he lifted, dragging himself upwards.