InterWorld (14 page)

Then Jai touched my arm and pointed to one side. I
turned, and saw what was powering the engines: a huge wall stacked floor to ceiling with what looked like large apothecary jars, or old-fashioned apple cider bottles, made of thick glass. In each of them was what looked like the glow of a firefly, without the firefly—a gentle luminescence that pulsed slightly in rhythm with the pounding machinery. They came in many colors, from firefly green to fluorescent yellows and oranges and eye-popping purples. A tube went up from the top of each jar to a huge pipe in the ceiling, which went down to the center of the engine.

“These are our brothers,” whispered Jai.

“And sisters,” added Jakon.

I touched the side of one cold jar with my hand, and it glowed a bright orange at my touch, as if it recognized me. Inside these jars was the fuel that drove the dreadnought: the essence of Walkers like me, disembodied, bottled and enslaved.

The glass, or whatever material it was, seemed to vibrate slightly. All I could think of was that scene from a hundred different horror movies, in which someone who’s been possessed has a moment of sanity and pleads, “Kill me!”

“That could have been us,” growled Jakon.

“It still could be,” rumbled Josef.

“It’s an abomination,” said Jo. “I wish there was something we could do for them.”

“There is,” said Jai. His mouth was an angry line. Jai had
always seemed so gentle. Now I could feel his anger in the air, like static before a thunderstorm.

He furrowed his brow and stared at a glass jar far above us. I thought I saw it shiver. Jai concentrated harder, closing his eyes—and the jar shattered, exploding with a
pop!
like a firecracker. A light hung in the air where the jar had been, edging nervously about, as if it were unused to freedom.

I looked at the others. We were all in agreement.

The iron thing I’d taken from the rendering room looked something like a poleax, with a blade on one side of the head and a blunt hammer on the other. The right tool for the job, as Dad would say.

I stepped forward. I yelled as I swung it—a savage cry that almost drowned out the sound of it smashing into the jars. About five of them shattered with the first blow. The glows within those bottles flared brightly, enough to leave an afterimage.

The rest of the team went at it with just as much enthusiasm and more. The air was filled with flying glass and strobing lights. I stole a glance over my shoulder. Pandemonium was taking place down in the engine room. The huge pistons were stuttering, pumping out of sequence or stopping completely. Steam was venting more and more furiously from various valves and exploding from pipes. Goblins, gremlins and other kinds of fairy-tale rejects were scrambling around like rats on hot tin, panicked.

The great machine was stopping.

At the moment, I didn’t care. I just cared about freeing the souls of all the different versions of me from their glass prisons. As each bottle smashed and popped, I felt brighter and stronger. More complete.

More
alive
.

I realized that Josef was actually singing as he smashed. He had a high, tenor voice. It seemed to be a song about an old woman, her nose and a number of herrings; and it made me wonder what kind of world he came from.

And then I noticed something.

The lights weren’t fading, once they were freed from their bottles. They were hanging there in space. If anything they were getting brighter, pulsing their firefly colors. They were collecting just above our heads. I didn’t know if what was left of them could appreciate what we did or not. It didn’t matter.
We
knew.

Jakon smashed the final bottle; and it popped and cracked, and the soul inside was freed, and rose to hang with the others.

Everything was electric. I mean that literally—it felt like the air was supercharged: Every hair on my body was standing on end. I was scared to touch anything in case I might somehow zap it to cinders. And the lights hung above us.

Maybe we imagined it, but if we did, we all imagined it at the same time. I like to think that because, on some very real
level, they were us—or they had once been us, before they were slaughtered and used to power a ship between the worlds—that what they thought spilled over to us.

They thought
revenge.
They thought
destruction.
They thought
hate.
And, observing us, they pulsed something that felt a whole lot like
thank you.

The soul lights began to glow more and more brightly, so brightly that all of us except Jakon and J/O were forced to look away. And then they moved, and I thought I could hear the wind whistling as they went.

Down by the engines the trolls and goblins were bolting everywhere in terror and panic. They didn’t have a chance in hell—literally. As the lights hit them, each one of them burst into something that looked like an X-ray image that flared and then was gone.

The lights reached the engines.

I suppose that I’d hate those engines, too, if I’d been driving them with everything I had, everything I
was
. When the sparks reached the engines, they vanished. It was like the steel and iron and bronze and steam had somehow sucked them in.

“What are they doing?” asked J/O.

“Hush,” said Jakon.

“I hate to go all practical and everything,” I said, “but Lord Dogknife and Lady Indigo are probably sending more troops down that tunnel after us right about now. In
fact, I’m surprised they haven’t—”

“Quiet,” said Jo. “I think she’s going to blow.”

And then she blew, and it was wonderful. It was like a light show and a fireworks show and the destruction of Sauron’s tower…everything you could imagine it could be. The
Malefic
’s engines seemed to start to
dissolve
in light, in flame, in magic; and then, with a rumble that grew into a prehistoric roar, they
blew
.

“That is indubitably an supereminent conflagration,” sighed Jai, a huge smile on his face.

“Nice,” agreed Josef. “Pretty.”

If there was a warranty on the
Malefic
’s engines, it had been well and truly voided now.

Then, as the dust settled, I felt it with my mind. Where the engines had been below us was now a portal to the In-Between: the biggest gate I’d ever encountered.

“There’s a gate down there,” I said. “I suppose that the whole fabric of space-time must have been under pressure from the engines. Now the engines are gone, they’ve left a place we can get through.”

Jakon growled, in the back of her throat. “Then we’d better do it fast,” she said. “I can smell a whole battalion of the scum coming up behind us, down that passage.”

“And besides,” said Jai, “I think our friends have only just begun to fight.”

I looked, and he was right, because the soul sparks were
now even brighter now, as they rose from the place where the engines had been and made their way through the ceiling to the floor above.

“I can fly J/O down there,” said Jo. “Jai can teleport himself and probably carry Joey or Jakon. But Josef’s a bit big to be carried.”

Josef shrugged. “S’okay,” he said. “I can jump.”

We all knew he could survive it. My only concern was him maybe going right through the floor and into the Nowhere-at-All.

But there was no time for hesitation or second thoughts. I could hear the clatter of boots in the tunnel, coming toward us. We’d have to move. And the portal wasn’t going to be there for very long: It felt unstable.

There was only one problem.

“Guys,” I said. “Lord Dogknife’s got Hue. And I’m not leaving without him. He’s saved my life more than once. He’s saved all of us. I’m sorry. I’ll get you through the gate if you want. But I’m staying for Hue.”

And then the first of the soldiers came through the door.

There was a rumble from above us, and a big section of a pipe broke free and crashed down. It didn’t come anywhere near us. I wondered what the freed souls were doing to the rest of the ship. Then I turned back to the disaster at hand.

As the first soldier came through the opening, Josef picked him up, like a kid picking up an action figure, and dropped him over the side of the mezzanine to the floor below. He screamed a little on the way down.

“So,” said Jai to me, “you are declining to accompany us home in order to foolishly squander your life in attempting to rescue your pet multidimensional life-form from…” He trailed off as another handful of astoundingly ugly soldier critters came through the corridor and were respectively picked up, teleported and blown over the rail to drop onto the floor below us in varying stages of dead.

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose I am.”

He sighed. Then he looked at Jo.

“Sounds good to me,” she said.

“Me, too,” said Josef. “I’m in—hey, not so fast!” and he tossed one of the soldiers back down the corridor,
tumbling men like ninepins.

“Say please,” J/O said.

“What?”

“Say please and I’ll help get your pet back.”

“Please,” I said. I swung the poleax, and another soldier thing fell screaming. Then we waited, but no more came through the corridor. They seemed to have given up on that idea.

“We’d better to hurry,” said Jakon. “I don’t think this ship is going to be here for much longer. And Lord Dogknife is going to be getting off before it goes. I know his kind.”

I said, “Nobody’s mentioned the real problem yet.”

Jai smiled. “Which real problem in particular might that be?”

“We’re on the bottom of the ship. We need to get to the top deck. And the quickest way is probably back through the corridor we just came down.”

“Not necessarily,” said Jo. She pointed down. “Look over there.”

There was a grand door to the engine room, a huge thing made of brass, and it was opening now, slowly, being wheeled or winched, screeching and complaining like the Wicked Witch of the West as it did so. Once it was open a small phalanx of HEX soldiers marched through it and formed lines. They made no move to attack, however. They simply formed a solid wall of flesh and weapons, facing us.

For a tense moment no one moved. Then the HEX soldiers split ranks, to reveal a single man standing there. A man whose naked flesh crawled with nightmares.

“Hello, Scarabus,” I shouted, trying to sound confident, although my skin felt like it was crawling just as much as his. “Enjoying the cruise? There’s gonna be shuffleboard and bingo later.”

“I felt from the start that Neville and the Lady Indigo underestimated you, boy,” he called back up to me. “I would have been happy to have been proven wrong.” He put his hand on the small image of a scimitar tattooed on his left bicep, and suddenly there was a real scimitar, the oiled blade gleaming wickedly, in his right hand.

“You’ve destroyed the
Malefic,
” he said. “The conquest of the Lorimare worlds has failed. Lord Dogknife intends to deal with you all personally. Believe me, every one of you will wish you had gone in the pot instead.”

Good,
I thought. Lord Dogknife was still on the ship.

Jai tapped me on the shoulder. I moved out of the way. Jai looked down at Scarabus and said, without raising his voice, but clearly audible across the whole huge hall, “We have a deal to offer you. To all of you.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to make deals.” Scarabus slashed his scimitar through the air.

“But we are,” said Jai. “One of us will fight you. If our champion wins, you alone will escort us up to Lord
Dogknife as free folk. If our champion loses, you may march us to Lord Dogknife as your prisoners.”

Scarabus stared at Jai for a heartbeat, and then he began to laugh. It was obvious why. From his point of view, whether we won or lost, we wound up in Lord Dogknife’s clutches. I couldn’t see that it made much difference either. One could call Lord Dogknife a lot of things, most of them uncomplimentary and none in his presence, but “stupid” wasn’t one of them.

“Bring on your champion!” Scarabus shouted.

Jai shook his head. “I need you, and all your men to swear not to harm us, if our champion wins.”

The soldiers looked at Scarabus. He nodded. “I so swear!” he shouted. “And I!” “And I!” repeated the soldiers one by one. They looked vastly entertained.

“I’m ready,” I said to Jai. I knew he had a plan, and I just hoped I’d learn what it was in time.

“You?” said Jakon with scorn in her voice. “Let me take him on. I’ll rip out his throat.”

“Excuse me?” said Josef. “Biggest? Strongest? Come on, guys, do the multidimensional math.”

“It’s not a matter of strength,” said J/O. “It’s a matter of swordsmanship. Has anyone here ever gone up against a scimitar?” None of us answered. “Well,” he continued, “I was an Olympic level fencer. And I’ve done historical reenactment sword fighting, with broadswords and short
swords—and scimitars.”

“This is a magical location,” said Jai. “Strong magic. You are already weakened, and you are the smallest of us, J/O. This world does not recognize your abilities.”

“It’s not a matter of nanocircuitry and augmented reflexes,” said J/O. “It’s a matter of skill. I can do it.”

They all looked at me, and I looked at Jai. He nodded.

J/O looked as smug as a cyborg face can look. “Jo, can you fly me down there?”

She nodded.

“Ask them for a sword, then.”

I shrugged. “Hey!” I called. “Have you got a spare sword, for our champion?”

One of the soldiers produced a sword, took a few steps forward, put it down on the floor, stepped back again. The laughter increased.

“Thank you,” I said. “Enjoy the show. Remember to tip your waiter.”

Jo picked J/O up then, and she flew down him to the floor. He picked up the sword—which was almost as long as he was—and bowed low to Scarabus.

The soldiers laughed louder still. If it were possible to laugh oneself to death, we would have already won. Scarabus looked up at us. “What?” he asked. “Are you sending me the smallest child in the hope that I’ll be merciful?” He grinned widely. “I shall
not
be merciful!” he said. And then he raised
his scimitar and charged.

He was good. He was very, very good.

Trouble was, it was obvious to all of us—even him, even the soldiers—that J/O was better. From the first moment their blades crossed, he was faster.
Way
faster. He seemed to know exactly where Scarabus’s scimitar was at any point in the fight, and he was always somewhere else.

The main thing I remember is just how loud the fight was. Every time the blades clashed, the room rang with the sound of metal banging metal. I can still hear it.

Pretty soon Scarabus seemed to abandon the whole idea of clever sword fighting and tried to win by taking advantage of his size and strength, slamming J/O with great blows that cyber-me barely seemed able to parry or block.

Then J/O tripped, and Scarabus lunged, bringing down the blade with all his might, shouting in triumph—and J/O moved, quick as thought, to one side, raising his sword as he did so.

The tattooed man impaled himself on J/O’s sword.

Scarabus’s victory cry was cut off. He didn’t scream—he didn’t make a sound. He just gripped the metal shaft and stared at J/O in amazement.

Then he fell to the floor—and all hell
really
broke loose.

His skin
boiled
. It was as if all the tattoos had been imprisoned there in his flesh somehow, and were released by his death. Monsters, demons, things for which I had no name—
they all rose up and away from him, expanding and solidifying—

And then they shuddered and froze in mid-flight for an instant.

Then—it was like watching a film run backward. The tats were sucked back down in a whirlpool of ink and form, and in seconds were safely in his skin once more. Scarabus pushed himself up to his elbow, coughed red blood and wiped it away with one illustrated hand. “You just cost me a life,” he said to J/O. “A
life
! You little monster.”

From his place beside me, Jai asked calmly, “Will you accompany us to Lord Dogknife’s presence without harming us?”

“I have no choice,” said Scarabus. “I swore an oath. There’s too much raw magic in the air to go back on it now.”

Two soldiers helped him to his feet as Jai, Josef, Jakon and I joined J/O and Scarabus on the floor of the engine room.

“Good job,” I said to J/O. I meant it.

He shrugged, but his eyes shone with pleasure.

We started to run, as best we could, up a set of narrow wooden stairs. Every deck we passed showed chaos—people, and things that weren’t people, were panicking, running, screaming.

Scarabus cursed us, demanding that we slow down. He was somewhere behind us. We ignored him. The
Malefic
wouldn’t hold together much longer.

“More like the
Titanic
than the
Malefic,
” I said to Jo, trying to catch my breath. There were a
lot
of stairs.

“Titanic?”

“Big ship, from my Earth. Hit an iceberg. Went down. nineteen twelve, thereabouts.”

“Oh right,” she said. “Like the
King John
disaster.”

“Whatever,” I said, as a huge chunk of ship fell apart to one side of us, and went tumbling off into the Nowhere-at-All.

We kept running up steps and along corridors and up more steps. And then we were there, outside the auditorium, the place where I had seen Lord Dogknife last, an hour or so earlier.

And I stopped.

The others stopped, too. “Hey,” said Josef. “Something wrong?”

“He’s in there,” I said. “Don’t ask me how I know.”

Jai nodded. “Good enough,” he said.

Josef kicked down the door and we all went in.