Babeldel
(Gothocracy
3)
Thomas
P. Walton
Prologue
It is Vivian's wedding day under the full fury of Mars, and war has broken out
across the once tranquil establishment of the netherworld of Gothocracy. Two
years in to the process of reclaiming the Zodiacron (a chaos apparatus
belonging to the ministers of Babeldel citadel) from the Order of Tempus and
the Clandestine Cloth of the Smiths, little more than a handle full of mutated
resurrectants have laid siege upon the town of Citibaad.
In
the absence of anyone to challenge the mutants' hunger for human flesh,
Marcella Barrientos and Agita Bella hold the fort against the mutant front.
Sardonically
enough, Marcella's problems are only beginning.
Deep
beneath Babeldel citadel where the demonic intelligence of Necrotep was once
imprisoned, a seal barring the portal from beyond the known spheres of the
universe has been left broken between worlds.
Little do Agita and Marcella realize that while they stave off mutant
attacks from the citadel, a second wave of invaders from the darkest depths of
Abrasax has breached the locks and guards of the chrysalis far below their
feet. The diabolical god, Zhaus, has decided to wage war against the remnant
humans to avenge his brother's death... and to reign over the earth. Instead of
traveling from across the void beyond the faded stars, Zhaus traverses through
the diabolic rift in the subterranean caverns of the citadel.
Meanwhile,
on the nearest side of the Sparrow's Blight (a wasteland of salted dunes and
glass buildings, where about only crows pillage through the fragments for
glimmering souvenirs of the dead races of man), Lidivic Seth, Marcus Anton, and
Devon D' rummage through the sorcery of their former mentor, the late Dr. Jon
Arcus. Gradually, the trio is enlightened to the growing horde of mutants in
the surrounding ghost town.
Grateful
for their secret entrance into Jon's library, Lidivic, Marcus, and Devon D',
make their way below the under-halls of Yesterday's Big City--a.k.a.
the forgotten city (or as Lidivic so affectionately refers to it--the rotten
apple).
As
the second wave assault on the earth begins, will the nine chosen ones fulfill
their oaths to the order of Arcus, and defend the remnants of Gothocracy?
Graying it seems, humanity leaks from the hearts of the watchers.........
Chapter
1
[Vivian
laced herself. Stretch. Snap. Popped her braw. Projected a kiss in the mirror.
Grinning to herself. ]
[Olivia
jeered at Vivian. She looked withdrawn from her friend.]
Olivia: In truth, it disturbs me. A sister of mine
tying the knot with a dick no sister would trust in her right mind. The torment
virgin Vivian causes me with her ongoing woes of love and eternal bonding
sickens me.
Vivian: Liz, darling?
Olivia: Ah, the cow's pet name for Olivia. I wonder
how our little virgin derived 'Liz' from 'Olivia'? There just isn't any--oh,
never mind. Yes, darkness?
Vivian: Oh, stop thinking so loud. All you do is read
and quote. Or preach.
[Olivia
grimaced. Vivian shrugged her shoulders and shook her head knowingly.]
Vivian: I'm having the day of my life. Besides, there's
nothing dark about Kyle--save for his pecker.
Olivia: I must have invoked her mirth for but a
moment; since she easily went on as if I'd said "Yes love?" And even
her full lips remained quite plentiful when she smiled. Her large rear hid
itself from my sight as she...
[Vivian
abruptly cut off Olivia with a death gaze]
Vivian: My rear's no bigger than yours, [hiss]
s-s-sister.
What do you think of Kyle, really?
Olivia: Good morning, Vivian. I mean, hello? You're
marrying him today! A little late to be asking for opinions about a man you've
already committed to--whether he is a meathead or not.
Vivian: He's a meathead--is that it?!
Olivia: I didn't say he was. I said you can't question
a commitment to a man at the last moment, whether or not he is indeed a
muscle-bound clod.
Vivian: Oh, I get it. Like humor, but different.
Listen... I don't need a smart man. Do you want a smart man? Oh, you probably
would go for one of those spirit men or something.
Olivia: Take care what you speak aloud.
Vivian: I have a right to my own thoughts, dear Liz.
Olivia: I'm not worried about any thoughts in your
head, dear Viv. It's the wrath of the gods--I've seen it done.
Vivian: Youuuu are such a swine's prick. Always, your
nose cleanly pressed into a book... miss tidy and...
Olivia: Don't be coy with me, Vivian. I only care for your safety--that's all.
Vivian: If anyone should be more careful, Liz, it's
you.
Olivia: [listening]
Vivian: [She pauses holding her hair brush at her
breast, allowing her long golden bangs to run through her spidery fingers. She
puts the brush down on the desk in front of the mirror. Sneering victoriously,
she turns to face Olivia.]
You
pry into things. Everyone knows how nosy you are. The town garrison has been
watching you with his own eyes.
[Vivian's
face becomes effortlessly concerned, the appearance of sincerity. She
approaches Olivia.]
For
mourning's sake! Olivia! Gothena has seen you herself.
Olivia: Oh don't start with that now! You're to be wed
this eve. I am happy for you.
Vivian: Are you?
[Vivian
and Olivia exchange eye contact for a silent time. Both smiling.]
[Vivian
seats herself at the mirror; her companion follows behind her. Gently running
her fingers down Vivian's hair, Olivia Dressed her friend. She took her time
about it, pausing to glide her fingers over Vivian's bloodless skin. She
pressed her lips carefully over Vivian's lightly speckled shoulders, but could
not hold back the heavy, hot breath that escaped her lips].
Vivian:
Liz, baby. Let's finish dressing.
Olivia:
Yes, of course. We-we wouldn't want you to be late for your wedding.
[Vivian
wept] Do you believe Gothena will appear before the fountain of our bondage
this eve? Olivia?
Olivia:
For few others than one as pretty as you, my love. I'm certain of it. [Kissing
Vivian's forehead] She shall not miss it for the world."
[Olivia
helps Vivian buckle her leather suit. A bell rings in the distance just as she
finishes the last buckle.]
Vivian:
Do you hear the bell? It is all coming true. Each instant, I... I feel... drawn
toward him. To Kyle.
[Olivia
looks up at Vivian hesitantly. Vivian nods. Olivia locks the chastity belt, and
rises. Places key around Vivian's neck and kisses her on the lips.]
Olivia:
I give this key to you to give to whom you choose to be your groom.
Vivian:
Well, we both know who that is. [Giggling].
Olivia:
God help us, yes. [Kindly smiling] Of course we do. Be blessed, love.
==COURTYARD==
Kyle
encircled the four corners of the fountain. He did so three times--in the name
of the goddess. Each passing aroused the anticipation Vivian felt in her
breast.
The
face of great, bygone Lidivic shone high above the other oracles of the
surrounding courtyard from far off Citibaad.
Olivia's
eyes drifted over to the fountain. She admired the courtyard, the goddess
fountain, and even the self centered avatar of Lidivic. Her eyes danced around
the crowds, anywhere to keep her gaze from meeting Kyle's own. The glory of the
woman god, Gothena, rose in her glorious armor, like still life art, but real
enough to be mistaken for flesh, allowed a reassuring place for Olivia's eyes
to rest inconspicuously.
Vivian:
[Mumbling to herself as she scans the courtyard] The language of the spirit-men
on every cornerstone of this courtyard. Their meaning escapes these fools who
dance in close quarters with this majestically masonry. Even the first tier of
Citibaad is a house of illiterate Goths.
[The
hat dancers draw Olivia's attention away from the masonry.]
Black
gowns gliding up the cobblestone steps to the south east, giving the illusion
of an effortless ascent to the central courtyard. Yes, yes. Same as when Aril
was wed to Joanna.
[Olivia
notices the fountain is vacant. Her eyes search for Kyle. Kyle slips over to
Olivia's flank unnoticed]
Kyle:
I hear you're curiosity of things hidden far surpasses even Prime Minister
Anton's knowledge of antiquity.
[Startled,
Olivia turns] Kyle? [Turns her back. Eyes shift left to right searching for
Vivian]
Kyle:
You know it was said to be an old custom for a wealthy groom to take in to his
house his bride's siblings as concubines. Did you know that, Liz?
[Perturbed,
Olivia turned abruptly]
Olivia:
No. I mean, no of course not!
[Kyle
gently turns Olivia in his arms. The sound of flutes move around the two, as
hat dancers bow and spit riddles of poetry to the four winds]
Olivia:
[breaking out of Kyle's hold over her bosom] Anyway, we're not siblings. Just
friends. But she's like a sister to me, you should know already.
Kyle:
Of course I know. Word comes to my ear you collect old books. You must be one
of the few literates I know in Town Centre. I'm honored to inform you that old
customs still hold sway in the doldrums our times.
Olivia:
If you're referring to that ridiculous custom you so despicably anticipate my
interest--well, I'm not interested. A strange custom if you ask me. It's no
wonder the Goths of Citibaad do not practice these old customs you speak of.
Kyle:
Who says that they don't?
Olivia:
[Spinning around with childish wonder] Do they? They don't! Kyle, you're
jesting.
Kyle:
I never said that they did... nor do I truly dare say that they do not. But
your womanly curiosity is aroused none the less, is it not?
Olivia:
Oh! Womanly? What exactly is it that you know about women other than your
limited understanding of our physiology?
Kyle:
My dear lady. [Tenderly kisses Olivia on the wrist] I beg your forgiveness, for
I am indeed unlearned about women. Olivia, believe it or not, Vivian is the
first woman to enter into my gloom kempt quarters alone. And it was with her
alone out of all the others that we...
Olivia:
Oh, please. You're to wed her in moments. Go and take your place at the
fountain, unless you want to arise suspicions about the two of us.
Kyle:
[Bowing in a gently mannerism that seems odd for a large man...] A suspicion I
would not be so offended by; not at the very least.
[Kyle
vanishes in the growing crowd of black hoods, robes, crooked hats, canes and
thick coats]
Olivia:
[sighing to herself] Poor Vivian. What that child must put up with.
DIARY OF OLIVIA
Alongside
the women, men wearing homburgs. Some others wore only their oily hair down
along the sides of their bloodless faces. At the forefront of the door to the
west came beautiful ladies in burgundy velvet dresses, much like the blood red
velvet I selected for my own gown. To the north stood the silent three; monks
who lit the candles, set down the urns of the ancestors before the arch of
time, and laid upon their hidden faces in quiet prayer. Their robes were
blacker than anything garment worn by either the Goths of Citibaad or the
denizens of Town Centre.
When the monks raised their arms up in
the sign of the yew tree, the wind stirred. Again, when they let their arms
rest at their sashes, the air became still. Chimes sounded in the distance.
Twisted wands of black and red wax were lit, and gave off sparks and sounds
like a wailing banshee.
At length the dancing began. Kyle awaited
for his bride to make her way around everyone in the courtyard. The bodies of
men and woman caressed Vivian. Circling every man and woman, Vivian moved like
a feline. Women hissed at her neck, so that the courtyard sounded something
like a nest of vipers.
When Vivian had given attention to every
man and woman in the town, and sure she wanted none other than her suitor, she
went to Kyle's side at the fountain of Gothena.
Mars was visible even through the gaseous
atmosphere over Vivian's sweet head of golden braids. Kyle was tall and dark.
He was sure of himself even under the weight of Mars looming above. The groom
and bride locked lips under the red satellite.
If Vivian had any disappointment in
Gothena's absence at her wedding, Vivian did not so much as once look away from
Kyle for an instant.
I washed away my own disappointments with
wine. It was a courtesy of the spirit-men who were wise in the creation of such
luxuries. The monks brought more wine through the arch of time in the
courtyard. Vanishing under its arch, I caught a glimpse of a woman of olive
skin and natural black hair. Her mouth was wide, but emotionless. Her eyes were
all business.
JOSEPH AT MOUNT ARCUS
Carrying
the weight of his brothers on his back, the partial cyborg Joseph Smith moved
mechanically up the winding steps of Mount
Arcus. Waiting for him at
the top of the flight was an elderly man. Joseph recognized him as Arcus, the
elder who was ostracized from Babeldel. He was of great age, a being of renown
abilities, and more alien looking every time Joseph laid eyes upon him--as if
the elder had spent too long a time in that alien vessel, and it had
transformed him into a monstrosity of the flesh. Alas, Arcus was the last true
remnant of humanity, for the order of the nine ministers had enslaved the minds
of those they resurrected. It mused Joseph that one who looked so inhuman was
kind and wise. Yet, those fairer in flesh and held in high regard at the
citadel were truly the monsters that tormented the souls of the dead.
THE GLOVE
Upper Library
Marcus Anton admires the tapestries in
the high floor of the library. Devon D. locks the entrance to the lower levels
of the library. Lidivic Seth studiously pours through the books in Dr. Arcus'
smaller collection of antiquities in a private suite. Gripped in a vice is a
glove with an open panel. Surrounding the litter of screwdrivers and needles
are numerous schematics scribbled in a crabbed hand.
Marcus
[mashing on grapes from the pocket of his jacket, Marcus whispers to himself]:
Lovely and quiet were these halls of old days gone by. Thomas Kinkade. Painter
of light.
[Observing
the custom of silence, Devon D. quietly descends the winding stair to the top
floor]
Marcus:
Eh? Oh--Devon. Good of you to join me, lad. A
man cannot be alone too long, even if he is no longer truly a man.
Devon
[partly smiling]: Surely my colleague knows that eating is prohibited in the
library.
Marcus:
Indeed [mashing on a second grape] your colleague knows it. But your professor
also knows better than to waste haggling over conventions no longer in the
service of those who've outlived their enforcements. Besides, being older--and
possibly the wiser--does have its priviledges, if not the advantages of
enthusiasm.
Devon:
Yes, professor. [Uncorks bottle of Burgundy]
Marcus:
Hmm. I see that silly old rule you so curtly conjured up hasn't stopped our
best man from drinking when and where he wants?
Devon:
[Opens panel on the wall behind a painting of lush green and purple lands
broken by streams of luminous waters. Pulls out two glasses. Fills the first
near full.]: And just what the professor ordered.
Marcus
[licking dry stained lips]: Yes, indeed. No--fill it up to the max. Go on, fill
it till it near spills. No need to be conservative.
[Devon and Marcus drink three glasses each before taking
up more wine from the panel].
Marcus:
You remember how lovely this private floor was in the halcyon days, don't you?
Devon:
[Speaking almost inaudibly into his drink] Yes. [Swallows hard] I do.
Marcus:
Thomas Kinkade. Painter of light. A pity old Jon never did build that refuge in
the mountains he so loved. These paintings. All of them entirely preserved well
over two centuries. [Regarding Devon sideways]
You've been a fine keeper and caretaker of this place, lad.
Devon:
I've done what I can. Taking care. Taking time to think. Sometimes just
listening.
Marcus:
Perhaps you've done 'all' that you can. [Marcus now turned to face Devon].
Devon:
I know.
Marcus:
Perhaps it is time for you to leave this place. Put the past to rest.
Devon:
This place... I hear the past as plain as it were yesterday--albeit, a hologram
of sounds filters into my inner ear at this very moment. I sometimes just
listen until madness seizes me.
Marcus:
[Taking a deep drink] I'm going to ask you to come back with us.
Devon:
I-I can't. I just can't leave all this...
Marcus:
I won't accept 'no' for an answer. You wither away here. In Babeldel you will
be reborn a god. Others will do your labors--while you, yourself, are free to
pursue your destiny.
Devon:
Professor?
Marcus:
Pour us another drink. Such discussions can make a man feel dry.
Devon:
[sigh of relief] I'm with you. Another bottle of Burgundy?
Marcus:
'Course. None other. It's the blood of the gods.
Devon:
Aye. 'Blood of the gods' for two it is!
Marcus:
Toast! You go first.
Devon:
To Jon.
Marcus:
To Jon it is.
[Lidivic
descends the stairs from the far side the upper library]
Marcus:
Ah, young master Lidivic. He's finished his pillaging of Jon's property at
last. He probably expects us in the dinning hall. Better go over and catch up
with him.
Devon:
I'll stay behind...
[Marcus
looking concerned]
Devon:
To close the private library for the last time, and to seal Jon's private
quarters.
THE GLOVE
Dining Hall
Devon
Prepares a meal for his guests, Lidivic Seth and Marcus Anton in the dinning
room. The three sit down for a meal at an overly large table--where once upon a
time the nine seated themselves here to learn the wisdom of Jon Arcus, and to realize
the world's most terrible fate was reversible only by decoding the Lore of Dead
Authors.
Marcus
[already eating]
Lidivic
[silently penning notes alongside his untouched supper plate]
Devon
[passing another helping of weasel stew to Marcus]
Marcus:
Ah. Another fine meal prepared by our more than generous host. Bless you, Devon! You have some very handy talents.
Devon:
I'm flattered to say the least.
Marcus:
Ah, but it's true. Not one of the maidens can cook up such a fine feast as
you've mastered. Not one, I tell you!
Devon:
I could advise them when I've settled down in Citibaad.
Lidivic:
[Pen lands in his soup bowl next to the silver plate of assorted breads] Oh,
w-what? Did I miss something while the two of you drank the daylight away?
Marcus:
Only the finest paintings of daylight you'll not ever see in the worlds to
come--nor in the dark centuries to pass.
Lidivic:
You're flare for words is such a talent, Marcus. I wonder how you manage to say
so much and eat so much more than the rest of us at the same time.
Marcus:
Why, I out to teach you some of my talents, young minister. Two and a half
thousand years from now, and you'll be able to hold a steady conversation half
as well as this old boy.
Devon:
If I may?
Marcus:
Oh, please-please, be seated with us and dine.
Devon:
Thank you.
Lidivic:
So?
Devon:
I have decided to come with you to Citibaad--if it's no burden? I'd like help
in anyway that I can.
Lidivic:
Burden? Why don't be silly. Marcus and I were hoping you'd join us anyway.
Devon:
Yes. I gathered as much. All the same, I'm afraid that I might be of a burden
to your plans.
Lidivic:
Oh?
Marcus:
Don't be a half-wit, Lidivic! You know as well as I do that he has watched over
this library of treasures for two hundred years. Likewise, he'd relish the idea
of getting as far away from this city as possible.
Lidivic:
I think I understand. It would be a burden more for you than for me.
Marcus:
Us.
Lidivic:
Of course, Marcus. We planned our route to the loft of Tempus together,
remember. I was merely taking the burden as a scapegoat for us.
Marcus:
Oh, yes of course. Lidivic the charitable. I remember now.
Lidivic
[musing at the pen in his soup]
Devon:
[Interrupting] Ahem. I will go with you to Tempus if you so wish. To be frank,
I'd much like to recover the Zodiacron to study it a bit more.
Lidivic:
Is that so?
Marcus:
I don't see any reason why not. I mean...
Lidivic:
[abruptly interrupts] Your food's getting cold, dear friend. Let us discuss it
further over in the head master's private study.
Devon:
[Wearing an unreadable expression] Agreed.
THE GLOVE
Headmaster's Private Study
Bio-lamps illuminate gradually upon
sensing the three warmth bodies entering the headmaster's private study.
Lidivic
[Seating himself at Jon's desk]
Marcus
[Seating himself in a wide, leather club chair]
Devon
[preparing coffee]
Lidivic:
Never would I have expected you to abandon your library so readily.
Devon:
Jon's library. I merely kept it tidy in memory of our savior.
Lidivic:
Savior, yes--well, you've kept yourself busy over two and a half centuries,
haunting these halls as if they were your own.
Devon:
I won't deny a certain sense of lordship; if one truly believes that his own
home is indeed his castle. Yet, contradictorily, this is not my own home.
Lidivic:
Are we then to believe that our Devon D. has existed here without taking upon
himself certain liberties?
Marcus:
Oh, what are you getting at, Lidivic?! Two hundred years have elapsed without a
word from Jon. He's long been dead--or at best we should consider him to be.
Lidivic:
This is precisely my point. Our humble host has been careful not to mention
much over the remnants of Jon's work. Some of it was left behind.
Devon:
As I had said since that first day you arrived here nearly two years ago, I was
never given the wisdom of Jon's work. And so I avoiding prying into his
personal study room.
Marcus:
There. You see. Devon wouldn't know anything
about Jon's secretive works--if Jon indeed had any. Personally, I think it's a
bunch of rubbish. Jon never had time with all the preparation and training he'd
given us.
Lidivic:
Time? What is time to a wizard? And such a wizard was Dr. Arcus.
Marcus:
I still don't understand. Lidivic? Be frank. What are you going on about?
Devon:
[sigh]. Coffee's ready. One for you dear Marcus. Lidivic. I'll prepare my own.
Lidivic:
Of course. Thank you. Marcus? You know that there was a manual Jon kept which
had been decoded from the alien scripted language of the dark spheres.
Marcus:
Partially decoded, young lord.
Lidivic:
No, Marcus. It was decoded.
Marcus:
You mean to tell me that Jon Arcus decoded the entire manual himself?
Lidivic:
Or nearly decoded the manual to its entirety.
Devon:
But, not alone.
Marcus:
[Astonished] Why, Devon... what do you mean?
Not alone?
Lidivic:
Exactly.
Marcus:
It's too incredible. He spoke of no one else aiding him in the translation of
that manual. And even if there was an aid from outside our order, half the book
itself was missing!
Lidivic:
You're ordinarily much sharper. I'm amused that you do not see the answer
plainly, even when it is looking back at you!
Marcus:
Devon?
Devon:
Oh, not me old friend. Jon never asked for assistance from anyone. As you say,
it is rubbish. Must you go on Lidivic?
Marcus:
[Takes a deep swallow of the bitter sweet coffee] Young lord Lidivic, then. Jon
was a sharp judge of character, but I suspected that he'd faltered with some of
his choices.
Lidivic:
Correct! And yet not so.
Devon:
[Speaking into his cup] Interesting.
Marcus:
[Ignoring Devon] I do not see where he
intended for you to be in the light of things. Explain. Go on already.
Lidivic:
We all kept in the dark. Jon knew our personalities well enough to wager when
we'd err.
Marcus:
[interrupting with a loud cough] You mean to say that Jon hoped we'd falter in
some manner.
Lidivic:
No. I mean to say that Jon knew nearly without a doubt that Marcus Anton would
see the autocracy better suited under the rule of a theocracy. He understood my
weak points as well.
Marcus:
I like a good mystery as much as the next intellectual, but I do not see how it
is that you've arrived at this conclusion. Is this not but merely your own
conjecture? Or do you have evidence to support your facts?
Devon:
Me.
Marcus:
Me? What do you mean 'me'?
Devon:
I am the evidence you seek.
Marcus:
[looking at Lidivic, and back at Devon] Well,
when you're both done being indiscrete, I'd very much like to hear your
explanation.
[Silence]
Marcus:
Either one of you! For pity sake, spit out the fat.
Devon:
[Lidivic nods] After assembling the ministry for its mission to save--or
resurrect rather...
Marcus:
Yes, I know this part already. I didn't tag along deaf and dumb.
Lidivic:
Hear him out, Marcus.
Devon:
Thank you. As I was saying... after the ministry was established and
distributed across the globe, Jon called upon Lidivic, seven others, and
myself. We were given special instructions never to disclose our purpose with
the other members of the order.
Marcus:
An invisible elite in the hierarchy of the order?
Devon:
Not quite. We were instructed not to alter the decisions of the ministers, but
to observe only and maintain our secret pact--
Lidivic:
Along with various duties to carry out.
Devon:
Duties, yes. Mainly to keep quiet. Which we've now just broken by telling you.
Marcus:
Well, then? What other duties did Jon give you?
Lidivic:
To keep various secrets. Some of which I keep to this day.
Devon:
And to log everything.
Marcus:
A lot of good that would do you. Every book in the Citadel was probably burned
up or lost in the war against Necrotep.
Devon:
We did not log everything into journals alone, for which I still keep quite a
collection here in my own quarters of this library.
Marcus:
[?]
Lidivic:
A journal would be prone to dishonest and biased entries.
Marcus:
You mean to tell me that you logged everything into the Zodiacron? Along with
all records of the ministry's activities?
Devon
[turns his back to his companions to make more coffee]
Lidivic:
Yes. That is indeed what I am telling you.
Marcus:
I can see that there are many good reasons to get the Zodiacron back into our
possession. But, these reasons dwarfed next to what you have just told me now.
Devon:
You're right, professor. But, there is another reason. One we all wish to know.
Lidivic:
Yes.
Marcus:
Go on, young sorcerer.
Devon:
The bio-telepathic structure of the citadel is unstable.
Lidivic:
Yes, and apparently Necrotep had managed to control the citadel when he last
manifested.
Devon:
With the Zodiacron we could re-wire the chaos mechanism to block out Necrotep's
species for good.
Lidivic:
And of more immediate importance is the means for restoring the seals to the
prison of Necrotep.
Devon:
As well as how to construct new devices for doing the same with other such
menaces from beyond the spheres.
Marcus:
I believe professor knows best here. The two of you are forgetting one very important
distinction between the necrotep seals and the cog-helm to control the citadel.
The book of dead authors is the secret to the seals, and that portion of the
book is also missing.
Lidivic:
A temporary set back.
Devon:
The other half of the book, along with what we suspect to be an entire library
of books beyond our current technology, rests inside the soul grid of that
computer.
Marcus:
The Zodiacron contains the key seals and the other half of the book?
Lidivic:
And much, much more old Marcus! As I've been in touch with the neurotep
circuit's god-form, I am now aware of a means for securing the citadel, as well
as for snuffing out the location of that Zodiacron. I've finished the last
component to building the glove of souls. I will explain it to you in due time
how it might be used to refortify our citadel, and in acquiring the Zodiacron
from the Order of the Cloth.
Marcus:
There is not much else ones such as us could want.
Devon:
Yes. I agree. I would like to study the Zodiacron myself, having never had a
chance to actually use it.
Lidivic:
Of course. And study it we shall do together. But getting it is going to be a
problem.
Marcus:
Why? What could possibly stand between us and the crater filled ruins of
Tempus?
Devon:
The mutants.
Lidivic:
I've suspected as much.
Marcus:
I don't mean to sound absurd. But, what mutants are there? And why should we
have any trouble with them?
Lidivic:
Do you recall the tower of skulls we came across on the pier of this city? Near
the waste cap?
Marcus:
The smoking mountain of skulls and brimstone? Yes. What of it? Are the mutants
the ones responsible for that shrine to death?
Devon:
It seems true, old Marcus.
Marcus:
Why didn't you say anything before? We've only been your guests here for a
couple of years already.
Devon:
When you've been locked up in a place like this for as long as I have, well,
one starts to doubt one's senses.
Marcus:
As you were saying this afternoon in the upper level of the library... hearing
voices and so on?
Devon:
Yes. Naturally, I believed I had managed to go mad.
Lidivic:
You may yet go mad if you linger on here. In any event, we must find a means of
moving through the city without being seen.
Devon:
Don't forget. When we arrive at Tempus, expect a welcoming party. Or maybe they
won't welcome us.
Marcus:
We had ordered that rat scrapped cloister of sub humans to be exterminated
along with that rogue criminal---that, what's-his-name?
Lidivic:
It's of no matter.
Marcus:
Easy for you to say, treacherous youngling.
Devon:
Now, let us not bicker over the past. We've a lot to plan out for our journey
across the threshold.
Marcus:
Threshold?
Lidivic:
Devon?
Devon:
Well, my friends... you don't expect us to go walking out into the open?
Marcus:
A secret passage perhaps?
Devon:
Even better.
Lidivic:
I see. This is one of your own secrets, then?
Devon:
Yes. Well, we'll all have to give up something of what we know if want to make
it across the city graveyard intact.
Marcus:
Well, what is it exactly?
Devon:
A door of sorts.
Lidivic:
A portal. Of course. Your talent with space/time.
Devon:
Yes. As you say. A portal through the threshold of the big city.
Lidivic:
Good! I never liked the Rotten Apple anyway.
Marcus:
Well, then. Tell us, Devon. What's our plan?
Devon:
We have to secure the doors behind us. Not the ones downstairs in the library
hall, of course. I've already sealed those years ago. When we leave by way of
the basement passage, we will enter the adjacent building. From there inside is
a locked office. At the back of the office is a door leading to our next
destination. I'm afraid that we should be on our way as soon as possible. So,
I'll explain more as we go--provided we can speak without attracting the hunters
outside. Lidivic? Bring your glove. If it is true that it will help us acquire
the Zodiacron, we must not leave without it by mistake.
Lidivic:
I'll put it on to ensure we do not leave it.
Marcus:
Good. What can I do?
Devon:
Grab some wine.
Lidivic:
This is no time for jests, Devon!
Devon:
No jest. I think that if your glove does not acquire us the Zodiacron, we could
at least bribe the cloth with a drink.
Marcus:
Hardly likely. But, I don't have any better ideas at the moment. And I've no qualms
about bringing some drink along the way .
Devon:
Let's be about it.
Lidivic:
What will you do? Devon?
Devon:
We need to break one last oath.
THRESHOLD
Mutants storm the streets below, as one
howl alerts the pack to a light aloft the towering building of the Arcus
library.
Devon:
Wait! Listen.
Marcus:
God, man. Did you hear that mournful soul?
Lidivic:
Quiet, Marcus.
Devon:
They're looking for an entrance. It will take them some time before they find a
way in. Hurry! This way!
