LONG STORIES

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!