“Brief me,” I mumbled, as I bit into a PnJ sandwich.
“Go back,” he whispered as he handed me the drink. “We’ve got it covered here now. And hide that damn Somalderis.” His eyes darted to the fleece still clinging to my hips. “It’s a magnet for trouble.”
I swallowed. “Is Spud okay? Where is he?”
“With Benedict. They’ve been alone in chambers all day.” Wart shook his head. “Without me.”
I winced. Spud alone under Benedict’s influence? “Is that a good idea…?”
“Escott isn’t the type to fall for the irrational. He’ll make the right decisions.” Agriarctos placed the plate with the remaining food on the coffee table and added softly, “When you three get home, take John back to his core. He’ll ‘ave to recover.”
Or did he say ‘He’ll Ev to recover’?
“And you? What’s your game?”
“Survival,” Agriarctos growled as he disabled the E-shield and, with a hint of a salute, X-fanned.
Chapter 9
Homeward Bound?
The scent of bacon and eggs woke me up as the first rays of the suns filtered through the giant windows onto the plush carpet. In the adjacent dining room, Plionarctos was Ergaling bowls of breakfast dishes on the long table, which had been set for four.
I sat up and turned my attention to John. Anesidora’s potion must be working—my brother looked much healthier than last night. His color had a hint of pink, his skin no longer sagged over his bones, his muscles were filling out. I was overjoyed to see John’s eyes flicker open. He looked up at the ornate ceiling with a confused expression then swung his head in my direction.
“Shiloh! My God! Baby Sister!”
I scurried over and gave him a hug. “All growed up.” I grinned, sitting next to him. “You look so good, big bro.”
John tried to sit up, then fell back, clutching his head in his hands. “Don’t feel so good. Where are we?”
“My domain, Rush,” Benedict boomed, M-fanning into our view. “Or, I should say, Rushes.” He waved an arm at the dining room table, where I saw Anesidora was now taking a seat. “Breakfast is served.
The invitation was welcome. I was actually hungry. And, it would do John some good to have something to eat.
A groan by my side drew my attention back to my brother. “Get up slowly,” I warned him, earning the expected glare. Wincing, he took another stab at sitting up, this time with greater success. “Benedict, you bloody bastard,” he growled as his eyes focused on his old mentor. “Took you long enough to come get me.”
“We certainly have a lot to talk about over a delicious meal,” Benedict parried.
John staggered to his feet and, donning a brave smile, stumbled towards the table with an unsteady gait. I ran up behind him to spot him, just in case, then jumped ahead to pull out his chair. Anesidora had already dived into a fluffy omelet. But, where was Spud? And Nephil Stratum?
John let gravity drop him into his seat. His hands gripped the edge of the table, easing their shaking. The road back from the grave would be longer than he was willing to admit. Plionarctos spooned a large serving of scrambled eggs onto his plate, and, seeing John’s hesitation, grabbed John’s fork with a hefty paw and shoveled a sizable bite onto the tines, growling, “Eat”.
John patted the Ursan’s arm. Gingerly, he picked up the fork and moved the eggs toward his lips, pausing to sniff the sulfurous odor before opening his mouth. “That’s one thing they didn’t get,” John said after he swallowed, “Smell. Nothing had a smell.”
“I’m sorry. I really could use a shower,” I admitted. “And a change of clothes.” I eyed Anesidora’s Ergal—a new pair of jeans and sweater would be nice.
“Then they weren’t Helianthi,” Benedict interjected, confusing me.
John shook his head. “No. Nor Zygan.”
Benedict ventured, “Cathars?”
“It’s possible,” John said before diving into the remaining eggs.
What in the world were they talking about? I chewed on my hash browns, trying to remember. When we’d been trapped on his ship, our former Earth Core Chief Gary had threatened to ‘catharize’ us. He’d used a neuroinvasive device shaped like a grapefruit to delve into our minds and tear away our innermost secrets. If I hadn’t learned ka’vyr from the Ifestians and blocked the mental invasion, my very essence would have been vacuumed away. Gary had been Benedict’s very first “test pilot” into the branes beyond. Had he visited that horrid sphere world where I’d found John and brought back some of their brain-draining technology back to our universe? From the Cathars?
“I was outnumbered and they grabbed the Somalderis. I held out as long as I could,” John added. “But the isolation was lethal. Nothing is worse than nothing. Thank you for sending me the Syneph. She kept me going and saved my life.”
“Where is Nephil Stratum?” I interrupted. “And Spud?”
“Spud?” asked John.
“My partner. My fellow catascope. William Es—“
“You, a catascope?” John exploded in laughter. “George, maybe, or even Blair, but I never thought you’d fall victim to the Omega Archon’s cultish wiles.”
I frowned. John’s Ergal had literally dropped into my hands and had led me to Zygint. I’d always thought his Ergal had been meant for me. “But you were a catascope, too. Why—?”
“Were is the operative word, Sis. I was taken in by the divine promise of the grand theatre, fabricated by the majestic Omega Archon. Took Benedict here to show me the light.”
John must be putting on a show for Benedict’s benefit. Isn’t that what catascopes undercover had to do? The words stumbled from my lips. “I-I was just following—trying to find you.” Why was my vision growing misty?
Chuckling, John patted me on the shoulder. “Well, on that count, I’m glad you did. Hey, can somebody pass me the eggs? I’m ready for seconds.”
* * *
I said nothing more for the rest of the meal. Benedict and Anesidora peppered my fast-recovering brother with questions about his solitary confinement in the sphere. Though resembling the spheres that stored Zygan neurocaches in Zygfed’s RAM, John’s prison sphere had been vastly different, not just in size.
“In my sphere, I didn’t even know that I had died,” admitted Anesidora. “I felt as if my experiences were real, concrete, and entirely under my control. I believed that I could have everything I wanted and that all my wishes would come true.”
Benedict patted his mother’s arm. “Well, one certainly did.”
I felt a shiver of disgust. Too weird a vibe there for me.
John snorted. “They didn’t even let me have my thoughts for comfort.” He clasped his head in his hands, his face contorting in agony. “I’d hoped to find the truths I’d been looking for, but I discovered nothing. Just nothing. Hell, I’ve been afraid of nothing all my life.”
The mist washed over my eyes again. John’s search for answers had left him isolated, with only the echo of his own voice as company. And that voice, so alone, had changed. How could it not have?
I felt myself longing to connect with something familiar. Spud, Nephil Stratum, even Wart. Eloquent words flew back and forth at the table before me, yet I felt more and more excommunicated, desolate. As I watched John’s flourishing features assume a healthy glow before my eyes, I wished George or Connie could be with me to welcome our brother, as well as to assuage the gnawing anxiety tearing through my gut. I missed my friends, my family—and my John.
I couldn’t hold back much longer. “Spud. I want to see Spud,” I cried.
Benedict smiled at me and nodded. Anesidora touched her ring and I was X-fanned from the dining room. Alone.
* * *
Gunner. With the barb of her staff pointing directly at my heart.
Damn.
“The Vizier sent me,” I said quickly, raising my hands. “Don
’t shoot.”
Frowning, Gunner stepped to one side. Behind her, on a massive, ornate throne, sat a handsome young man; sprouting from underneath his golden crown were blond curls covering his bare, sculpted arms, on which rested two black ravens. The young man’s piercing blue eyes were focused on me.
“You escaped the Cathars. That is honorable and worthy of a reprieve,” he said in a deep voice. “The Vizier chooses his acolytes well.”
“King Odius, I presume,” I ventured. Somehow, I’d imagined the king as being old and gray. Come to think of it, no one except Marlin looked old and gray in Valholler. Not the warriors. Not Gunner, not Benedict, not Anesidora. Only those screeching skeletons in the pits from which we’d fled. Everyone else appeared as young as me and John.
“I am seeking my friend Spud,” I said. “Know ye where he be?” (Sometimes, I do get carried away with the dialects I’m using. Come to think of it, seeing as I was without an Ergal to translate our conversations—where did all these Azgaror folks learn English?)
“If you are referring to William Escott,” Odius returned, unsmiling, “We expect him to return momentarily.”
“Where did he go?” Spud would never have abandoned me. Us.
Odius’ sigh carried the weight of millennia. “The Vizier is only the most recent of our immigrants seeking passage to the world of the Creation. Our ‘way station’, as it were, provides and nourishes the armies that guard that path. A thankless task, indeed.”
Gunner snorted. The chamber shook. I jumped.
“It seems sometimes as if every ambitious and corrupt general in the multiverse ends up at our doors.” Odius opined. “I really do believe that hubris must be a necessary driver of interdimensional transport.”
Gunner laughed, a deep, bellowing guffaw. I jumped.
“Theodore Benedict is actually quite refreshing. To consent to allowing your companion to tackle the excursion first was most sagacious. You understand why I have entrusted Benedict to serve as my Vizier.”
“Wh—what’re you talking about?” I was livid. And terrified. We had just rescued John from his misguided journey to what he’d hoped would be Level Three. Spud couldn’t be foolish enough to try the same trip. And force me to attempt another rescue. “You’re saying Spud is test piloting a trip to—to?” Those Cathar monsters wouldn’t let me, us, Terrans, escape twice.
“Yes,” Odius said, “The launch portal to heaven. But there is much advance study needed before the transport can be tried. His measurements will be able to determine whether the Syneph can muster enough energy from our dwarf suns to bypass the Helianthi and their Somalderi.” The King smiled at me, adding. “The guardians of Heaven’s Gates.”
I returned the smile, pretending to understand, my fingers unconsciously stroking the Somalderis hidden under my puffy silk blouse. That was the second time that word—Helianthi—had come up this morning. It did sound a bit like Project Helios, my brother’s secret mission. Were those Cathars that had cruelly imprisoned John for his attempt Helianthi, too? Perhaps Spud or Nephil Stratum might be able to fill me in.
“I can do it.”
The warm mist tickling my shoulders had a familiar and welcome aura. Nephil Stratum.
* * *
And Spud. Leaning against a marble column with his lopsided grin.
“Took you all long enough,” I bluffed, nodding at Odius. “Benedict expected you hours ago.”
“We had to double check our estimates,” Spud chimed in. “Wouldn’t want any surprises during transport.” Spud winked. At me?
“If you can open heaven’s gates without a fleece,” interjected Gunner, “We will finally be free of the Helianthi.”
“Now that would be cause to celebrate,” Odius echoed. Turning to me: “Tell the Vizier we shall meet in the Champions Hall at solar apex. It is time to begin our campaign. We must prepare for the return of Balder.”
“I can get you some Rogaine,” I muttered under my breath, earning an elbow in the ribs from Spud as he grabbed my wrist and tugged me towards a large door that Nephil Stratum was opening.
The minute we had entered the deserted passageway and were out of earshot, I turned on Spud, grabbing his arms. “You’re actually planning to go with Benedict to Level Three?”
“I am relieved you have returned safely,” was the quiet response as he extricated himself. “And I am flattered by your concern.” His smile returned. “I was just helping Nephil Stratum with her next steps.”
“It isn’t possible, Shiloh,” whispered Nephil Stratum in Zygan, “for a Syneph to manage that passage. But if Benedict were to understand that, he would then steal your Somalderis.”
“Why hasn’t he done that already?” I dared to ask that nagging question.
“Because the Fleece is empowered by the Helianthi. It can transport us from brane to brane in Level Two, our multiverse, but without their endorsement, it cannot unlock the gates of Level Three. Benedict would find himself cast out into the vacuum of the Cathars, just like John.
“Despite that possibility, I do not trust that Benedict might not take the risk of ending up in Cathar Hell if he believes he has no other choice.” She patted my arm. “Our first goal is to get you safely home.”
“So you don’t trust Benedict after all,” I returned. I’d been heartbroken to think Nephil Stratum was one of the “bad guys”, a Zygfed traitor. I lowered my voice. “Are you working with Agriarctos?” I asked, hoping she, like my brother, like Wart, was really working undercover.
“Sort of. But we shouldn’t chatter too much here, Shiloh. We need to get you and Escott—and your brother—on your way before Benedict sacrifices you all and tries to use your Fleece as a battering ram into the gates of heaven.”
“Works for me. But won’t you be in danger when he finds out you can’t make the crossing either?”
Nephil Stratum stroked my cheek gently with a warm tuft. “I have…abilities that can protect me from Benedict’s rage. Do not worry about my safety—just take care of yours.”
I wrapped my arms around her downy trunk and buried them in her cloudy clusters. My voice was hoarse. “Will I see you again?”
“I hope so, Shiloh, I hope so. When the time is right. Til then, if you must, you can reach me through Alto Stratum. But only in an emergency. I have to stay here to make sure the lock stays on the gate,” she said, as she opened a door that suddenly appeared beside us and led us into Benedict’s salon.
Chapter 10
The Grate Escape
I was stunned to see how healthy John looked; it had only been a short time since I’d left his side at the breakfast table. His cheeks had filled out, his skin was rosy, and his eyes gleamed with an energy that I hadn’t seen since that long night of cryptic discovery at the University of Maryland synchrotron years ago. Anesidora’s magic medicine seemed to be even more effective than the healing powers of Chidurian ale.
“Congratulations!” John cried as we entered Benedict’s suite. “Level Three is within our grasp.”
“Word travels quickly,” Spud commented, with a side glance at Nephil Stratum. “There is still much research to be done, but Nephil Stratum will be able to guide you.”
I was dimly aware of Benedict shaking Spud’s hand, and Anesidora extending an arm to pat Nephil Stratum. My own eyes were focused on my brother’s face—in shock. John couldn’t possibly intend to stay here—with Benedict—and try again. Not when I—when we all—desperately wanted him to join us back home.
I stood frozen, blinking, hoping my ears had misled me.
“Is there any way we can convince you to stay, Escott?” interjected Benedict before I could respond. “From the standpoint of ‘scientific curiosity’, perhaps?”
“I am afraid that my scientific explorations are best confined to my native brane,” Spud said. “But I should be interested in reading a monograph about your voyage after your return.” He smiled at
Nephil Stratum. “Any communications would be fascinating.”
Nephil Stratum assented. “We’ll keep you in the loop, William, I guarantee.”
John rested a hand on my shoulder. “So make sure you tell George and Connie and the kids I’m all right, okay? Don’t want them to worry.”
“No!” I shouted, brushing John’s arm off me. Everyone turned in my direction, including Spud’s rising eyebrow.
“I didn’t say it when I should’ve, three years ago, but I’m saying it now—no! That’s enough, John, no more Holy Grails. You’re coming back with us.”
John extended his hands, palms up, and nodded at Anesidora. “Look at me, Shiloh, there’s nothing to worry about, I’m back 150%. She’s one hell of a nurse.”
“That’s not—I’m not talking about your health, John. I’m talking about ours.” I stopped to catch my breath. “Billy isn’t even a teenager yet. He needs his older brothers and sisters.”
John’s brow shaded his blue eyes. “Didn’t you tell me you were working as a catascope? Those responsibilities must be wreaking havoc with your babysitting duties.”
I pursed my lips. “Connie and George don’t need me to babysit. But at least I see Billy once in a while. Besides, I joined Zygint to try to find you.”
John sighed, “And I’m grateful you succeeded. But don’t make me your Holy Grail. I’m just your brother, healthy and whole. Your adult brother.”
I snorted. “Ha. Pot. Kettle. Black.”
“How dare you!” John’s pink face was now ruby red as he aimed his glare in my direction. “You insolent little brat—“
Before either of us could swing, we were enveloped in a blinding cloud. Nephil Stratum had flown between us, blocking our sight, and wrapped her fluffy puffs around my chest. I felt a misty tendril inch inside my blouse and make contact with the Somalderis. Was that shadow to my right my brother or Spud?
“Anesidora,” cued the Syneph. “Now.”
And we all exploded into a million molecules again.
* * *
Area 51—present day?
Spud must have come to first, as he stood over me waving our Ergals when I flicked open my eyes. My arm instinctively went to cover my brow; the blinding sun of the parched, Nevada desert would take a few minutes to get used to. Except, the sun was somehow shaded by trees. And the dirt and chaparral that I’d expected to be scratching my arms and legs under my supine body had morphed into soft grass. This wasn’t the Nevada we’d left behind in our interdimensional time loop, for sure. But if not, how did Spud find our Ergals?