Chapter 275: The Survivors

Chemestro couldn’t get out.

Wherever…whatever he was stuck in, he couldn’t get back.

He floated outside of reality itself like a ghost, sensing the humming vibrations that were Solaris moving back and forth across the entire city, leaving no stone unturned in his search for the remaining Anchors.

It took several subjective hours before Chemestro even figured out how to move. Time, speed and distance were…ephemeral concepts. Moving was a result of intent more than anything else, and there was no sensation of movement. No inertia, no mass.

Reality seemed to slip by in uneven patterns as Chemestro stayed still, completely insulated from the forces he would expect to be associated with motion, the world warping around him as though viewed through a piece of rough seaglass.

Thinking of moving a limb flung Chemestro wildly aside, the world spinning around him. finally the world itself settled inside a humorless med-bay. Chemestro recognized it as Neuron’s abandoned lair, lightless and cold.

Suddenly Chemestro remembered that this specific medbay had been where he was rehabilitated after tearing a major ligament in his hip. A place that had a major place in his mind associated with simply walking under one’s own power.

Is travel mnemonic rather than physical?

The world flashed around him and suddenly Chemestro was buried between the pages of a dictionary, a dog-eared ancient manuscript that he’d used to learn new vocabulary in downtime between exercise and tests.

Subjectively, Chemestro must have been the size of a microscopic insect, because the words of the dictionary loomed above him like a skyscraper:

mne·mon·ic

/nəˈmänik/

noun

noun: mnemonic; plural noun: mnemonics

a device such as a pattern of letters, ideas, or associations that assists in remembering something, for example Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain for the colors of the spectrum (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet).

Chemestro took a deep, steadying breath.

What am I even breathing?

An instant later, he was flung through the air filter of his lair.

Chemestro tried to steady himself, to hold himself in one place, but every time he tried to calm himself, he would flicker to a new place, as his mind made connections and had thoughts without his consent.

The environment flashed violently around Chemestro as he spun from thought to thought, place to place, reeling with the intensity of the shifts.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he found a way to slow it down.

Exercise.

There was no ground to stand on, no air to breath or resistance to work against, but the moment he thought about working out, the world around him stabilized somewhat, gently vibrating between his favorite places to exercise.

Maybe…

Chemestro began running in place, the familiar movement somewhat awkward now that he was untethered from mass and gravity.

Eventually though he got the hang of it, his mind going blank as he fell into rote. Try as he might though, he couldn’t achieve the same state that had got him into this predicament. He was stabilized, though.

I need some kind of assistance. Possibly magical in nature. Someone knowledgeable, powerful and…somewhat willing to help.

Dave?

Chemestro had successful dealings with him in the past.

At the thought of the unicorn, the world flickered around him and resolved into the unicorn’s lair, where the leather-clad unicorn was in an intense discussion with Marigold Zauberer.

Naturally, they couldn’t see or hear him.

“And I’m saying, don’t drag me into your little coup attempt. I’m off Solaris’s radar. I don’t exist to that man, and I’m more than happy to remain that way.” Dave whispered, as if afraid Solaris would hear him.

“You don’t have a choice, Dave. The man has finally succumbed to his own paranoia and Tide-sickness. He’s on the warpath, battling imaginary foes, and he won’t stop until everyone is dead.”

“You said that last time you tried to take over Franklin city.”

“last time, he didn’t kill my daughter!” Marigold said, her voice turning shrill. “He’s-“

Marigold paused, cocking her head as if listening to something, then she turned and stared directly through Chemestro.

“We have a guest.”

The black-horned rocker straightened in his seat and followed the crone’s gaze to Chemestro.

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“So we do. A spirit, of some kind.”

“Feels too alive.” Marigold muttered, her palms apart, fingers curled inwards.

“Can you hear me? I require assistance becoming corporeal again.”

Between the old woman’s palms, a whorl of magic formed before ballooning outward, forming into a flat, ovoid shape.

Through the ovoid shape, the world became crystal clear again.

“Ah, the attractive youth.” Marigold murmured, her hand on her hip. “You’re still alive. Well done.”

“What do you mean I’m still alive?” Chemestro asked. Why would she assume he was dead? Judging by their conversation… “Has Solaris…”

“Killed or driven into hiding the vast majority of his Anchors? Yes.” Marigold said with a shrug. “The fact that you survived places you among lofty company, such as myself…and Darryl.”

“This happens every twenty years or so anyway.” Dave said with a shrug. Which is why I never volunteer for the job. That and my horn.”

“You know those were different.” Marigold said, turning to the black unicorn. “Those were isolated incidents where Anchors tried to seize control. This was a stable, functioning government. None of the Anchors got greedy this time.”

“I need assistance becoming corporeal again,” Chemestro interrupted, dragging the ancient woman’s gaze back to him.

The old woman’s gaze took on a mischievous glint.

“What are you willing to pay for – oh, piss off, you.” Marigold’s haughty attitude collapsed as Chemestro stepped through the oval window, stumbling for a moment as gravity reasserted itself on his body.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Chemestro said with a nod, glancing around and orienting on the concrete stairs that seemed to lead upwards.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Marigold muttered, stalking back to a chair and pulling out a fanciful pipe which glowed with magical runes as she took a deep draw.

“The moment you step outside this basement, your head will turn to ash and you’ll find yourself wandering Elysium. Not a bad deal for you, I suppose.”

Chemestro stopped mid-stride, turning away from the staircase and back to the pair.

“How did you survive? How is this basement safe?” As far as Chemestro knew, no amount of concrete would render a building safe from Solaris if he really wanted to get to you.

Marigold let go of her pipe and wiggled her withered fingers.

“Magic.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dave said, nodding before lighting a cigar and joining the old woman in polluting their limited air.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smoke. It’s damaging to the lungs.” Chemestro said. of course, he could filter out the smoke from his personal bubble, but it was tedious.

“You know,” Marigold said, pointing at him with her pipe. “I think I understand why my grandson doesn’t like you. You are a killjoy.”

“I don’t care.” Chemestro muttered as he scanned the room for something that might be of use to him. If he could communicate with the rest of his brothers and sisters…get the word out, then maybe they could organize some kind of defense…

“It occurs to me…How did you survive young man? How did you accidentally fall into the Fate dimension?”

“I was exercising, felt something approach and reflexively dodged, using my powers. Fell into that odd reality.”

“You felt Solaris approaching?” Marigold asked, her posture tensing. The change in behavior drew Chemestro’s attention back to her. He’d said something that gained her interest, and he was less than enthusiastic about that.

“I never said it was him I felt.” Chemestro said.

“Right, I’m sure it was some other

thing that chose that exact moment to try and kill you.” Marigold said, setting her pipe aside and walking up to him, seizing his head between her hands and peering into his eyes with the clinical efficiency of a doctor assessing a concussion.

“Are you telling me you spread your senses out across Fate without any kind of training and used the forewarning to dodge a man literally moving at the speed of light?”

“I never said any of that.”

“And then you entered Fate, and, again, without any training, learned rudimentary navigation, enough to seek us out for assistance?” She asked, checking his pulse.

“Again, did not say that.” Chemestro said.

“Young man, would you like to become my apprentice?” Marigold asked.

“Looking for someone to give your grandson a challenge again?” Chemestro asked. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in-“

“Bah,” Marigold scowled, her hand slashing through Chemestro’s refusal. “My grandson can fend for himself. He’s made that abundantly clear. The focus of this conversation is you.”

“Imagine you’re a Krath Crystal hobbiest.” Marigold said, letting go of him and pacing to the little table she’d been using to converse with Dave.

“No idea what that means.” Chemestro said.

“You spend your entire life growing the nicest Karth crystals you possibly can, going out into the wild and finding new, exotic crystals, polishing them into works of art.”

Chemestro raised a brow.

“You get towards the end of your life, and you look back on your work and thing to yourself. ‘I’m satisfied with my life, I’ve made some of the finest Karth crystals the world has ever seen’. So you retire, put all your skills into polishing one final Karth crystal – the ungrateful little shit – and you think you’re happy. You’ve done all there is to do, seen all there is to see.”

“Then one day, there’s an earthquake. And while sheltering from the earthquake, you notice that one of the nearby boulders that you’ve taken for granted all this time has split open, and contains a Karth crystal as big as a man with such perfect clarity and brilliance that in the right hands…it could surpass anything that ever came before it.” Marigold’s eyes glittered with passion.

“Pass,” Chemestro said, turning toward the staircase. He’d take his chances with getting his head vaporized.

Maybe if I go completely invisible, I can feel my way to Warp’s home.

“I’ll teach you how to get in and out of Fate at will. How to sense Solaris coming. How the highest rank of Mages battle in the arena of Fate. How to be strong enough to beat Solaris. He’s talented, like you. Solaris is so highly Attuned that he naturally connects to Fate without training. It enhances his senses and fuels his paranoia.” Marigold said.

“Lets him see people that should be invisible, as long as those things leave a wake behind them as they pass through Fate. But it’s spotty, erratic, and untrained. Without training, what Solaris has is simply very good gut instinct. If you fight him without my training in how a proper mage fights, he will beat you through experience. He’s got a hundred years of it.”

Chemestro paused, halfway to the staircase.

“And what do you want in return?” he asked over his shoulder.

Marigold shrugged. “I want to create a monster.”

Chemestro turned to Face Marigold completely.

“My original name was twelve forty-two. I was plucked from a batch of no less than five million embryos based on a strict criteria which weeded out anything less than physical perfection. My batch was the first one, two thousand individuals who were raised with the strictest possible regimen by a madman who through some twisted sense of paternal pride, wished to create a legacy that would outlast him. Hundreds of our batch died in training. Either from exhaustion, sparring, punishment, even the occasional suicide. I survived.

“But I didn’t just survive. I thrived. I climbed roughshod over the bodies of my brothers and sisters to become the most powerful, most loyal soldier that Neuron had ever produced. I am Neuron’s Magnum Opus.”

“So believe me when I tell you,” Chemestro said, stepping closer to the old woman. “When I hear an egomaniacal narcissist like my father, assert that I am an unworked gemstone and all it would take is their strong hand to make me whole, I find it reductive, and insulting.”

“Gods, I want to teach you even more now.” Marigold mused.

“I’ll help!” Dave said. “I’ll keep the witch from sinking her claws into you, kid.”

“Tsk.” Marigold clicked her tongue.

Chemestro glanced at Dave, who watched their exchange with eagerness.

“Let’s talk terms.” He said, pulling a chair up to their table.