There and Back Again

It didn’t take long to explain, though Cyrus kept finding himself getting distracted, looking to Dad and Bartleby again and again. They were still bleeding, still moving, but it was as if they were in slow motion, their seconds were Cyrus’ minutes.

“We understand,” the Lion said, looking at him through the mask with those old, withered eyes. There was a smell to the Lion, this close up. Sweat and rot and foulness, as it loomed over him, lumpy and misshapen in a way that the armor couldn’t hide. It smelled like old man sickness, like dying in a hospital bed sickness, and though Cyrus tried to play it cool, he was tired and he knew some of his disgust and distrust was showing through. “We know of your world,” the Lion told him. “The Unicorn’s houses have been stealing your children in an attempt to end us. It is hardly the worst thing they have done, but it is perhaps the worst they have done to your world, so far.”

“So what do we do?” Cyrus asked.

The Lion sighed, reeking breath rolling over Cyrus and making his nose wrinkle. “Fight,” the Lion told him. “They will come for your world, in time. The more resistance you put up, the more time you have to prepare. Appear too easy, and the Houses will bid low for your conquest, and try for a quick profit. We have… arranged assistance for you, but it is… not fully developed, yet. We had hoped that the time differential would give it time to mature in your world, but the lack of runes is a significant problem. The makers did not seed your realm, despite its potential. Odd that.”

“Makers?” Cyrus asked, but before the Lion could answer, if even he intended to, sandals clapped on the stone stairs and Rusty ran into the chamber, looked around wildly, then charged Cyrus.

“CY!”

“Russ!” It took everything he had to keep from being bowled over, and oh, did the tears flow. He barely heard his brother say “Ken, can you fix Dad?” before he was heaving great sobs, hugging his brother to him, and struggling to keep himself standing. Cyrus was so very tired, but it had been worth it, it had all been worth it to bring his brother home.

But they weren’t home yet, and as the elation ebbed, he took a long breath, lifted his glasses, and mopped the tears and snot from his face until he could look around and take in the scene properly.

Dad was standing again, with the help of Beth and Catalina. The asian kid who’d punched the wizard’s corpse was kneeling over Bartleby, and holding his hand. Beth Bartleby was staring past him, at the back of the Lion. The Lion was talking with one of the furry pants horn headdressed people… except those WEREN’T pants, and that WASN’T a headdress. The man looked like a satyr, straight out of Greek myth. Well, with the addition of some camouflage paint, a cape and tunic, and a bow, anyway. The guy looked like a badass, and was watching out the windows while he was talking with the Lion.

And all this was illuminated by the gentle rainbow pulsing of the swirling ball in the center of the room. It was dimmer now than when they’d crossed over, but steady. Cyrus stared at it for a while, hypnotized.

Then he saw motion from the doorway, caught it with his peripheral vision, and Cyrus moved to put himself between it and Rusty.

He didn’t exactly relax, but he felt his worry lessen as two girls walked in. One in robes, like Rusty was wearing, and the other in a wooden, snarling mask that looked like a smaller version’s of the Lion. She was dressed in a satyr tunic paired with wrapped leggings, and held a nasty looking knife in a reverse grip.

And she froze as she stopped cold in the doorway, dropped the knife, and ran toward Dad. “Father!”

“What? Wait!” Steve Colfax said, then braced himself as the girl tore her mask off and hugged him, crying. “Carmina? Carmina!”

Then he looked up and over her sobbing form to see Cyrus staring at him. “I can explain.”

“So that’s why we’re on the bad list at Bunktown,” Cyrus said. “Does Mom know?” Off hand he knew he should be mad, but after all they’d been through, standing under the alien light of an alien sun, this seemed… not inconsequential, but smaller. Simpler. This was a human problem. And his father, for all the energy and motivation and bravery he’d shown in the last few hours, was still very much just a man in his failures.

But judging by the way Beth was looking from Carmina to Dad, her jaw dropped and her hands up in front of her almost defensively, he figured that explanation would have to come sooner rather than later. But after. After they were safe.

“Never mind,” Cyrus said, as he saw his father’s eyes shift away. “None of that matters, now. That’s two kids saved… more, if any of your friends are from Earth, Rusty.”

“Yeah,” Rusty said, staring at Carmina. “Uh, sorry. Alice? Ken? This is Cyrus.”

“Hello sir,” Alice said, nervously.

“Hey, cool,” said the Ken as he straightened up from Bartleby. “Your brother told us stories about you. I’d love to hear more when we’re back home. Can we go back home?”

Bartleby used the wall to pull himself up while Ken spoke, and Cyrus’ eye widened as he saw that his friend had a leg again. Yeah, it was bare of pants and shoes, and Bartleby hissed as he stood on it and his ankle wobbled until he nearly fell, but it had been regenerated damn near perfectly.

At a cost, though. Bartleby looked far thinner than he had a moment ago, his stomach distended against his clothing. Had the meat of his new leg come from the rest of his body, or something similarly morbid?

“Help me with him,” Cyrus said to Rusty, and the two of them managed to help Bartleby walk to one of the window sills and sit down. He WAS thinner.

But no weaker, as two emaciated hands grabbed each of them, and pulled them close. “Has it given you any gifts?” Bartleby hissed. “Has it enchanted you?”

“What?” Rusty asked, trying to pull away.

“The Lion, boy! Has it… oh no. It has, hasn’t it? You feel… it’s got its hooks in you.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. “I mean, he replenished my chakra— that’s magical energy. I almost died. Uh, Cy? Some of my hair’s white now, and my back hurts. A lot.”

“Did that thing do that?” Cyrus glared at the Lion, who was stooped low, peering out a window, now. Another satyr, a woman, was next to him, pointing.

“No! No. He’s… well, he’s been helping us. They’ve been helping us. He talks about himself like there’s more of him.”

“There are,” Bartleby said. “And it’s quite possible you’ve been infected. You must leave here at once. Talk to it. Get it to open the portal again. Hurry!”

“I… why are you so scared?” Rusty asked. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but he’s been nothing but helpful…”

“Listen, I can’t be certain, but the last time I was here, I think it was a different man in the armor. And it’ll be another one when that body’s used up. Do you want it to be you? I don’t want it to be me!”

“Either way, we need to get home,” Cyrus said. “This ain’t our fight. I’ll go talk with him.” Cyrus squeezed their shoulders, and hobbled toward the looming figure.

But as he approached, and tried to find the right way to ask for the nearest exit, the matter turned out to be moot. The Lion turned and looked down at him. “We must leave. Zarkimorr is taking the field, and I have not the strength left to oppose him now. But I do have enough left to reopen the door to your world. Gather, and ready. You must leave five at a time, the portal will not take more at once.”

“Should we take Reevian’s other rune with us?” Alice asked. “I mean, could we take his body? I guess we couldn’t absorb it, not in that short a time,” she glanced hesitantly at Ken.

“Reevian held the runes of restoration and corruption,” the Lion said. “Do you truly wish so terrible a power?”

“It’s what k… it’s how Gunther died,” Rusty said. Alice’s horrified expression told him that no, she regretted her suggestion.

“Leave it,” Ken said flatly. “Hey Lion, boss, can you destroy it after we’re gone?”

“I shall. Assuming that Carmina returns home, and does not desire it for herself.”

“I…” Carmina hesitated… then took off her mask, as Catalina laid a hand on her shoulder. She definitely had the Colfax nose, Cyrus noted, as the grubby-faced child nodded. “I’m sorry. I helped, but… he’s family. And my own, they must miss me. I have to go to them.”

“You have done more than enough, child.” The Lion bowed his head. “I shall miss you. Now the first who are to go, line up.”

“Children first,” Cyrus said. “Just in case something goes wrong.”

“No, wait,” Catalina held up her hand. “We are returning to the compound, yes? Where the assholes might be waiting for us? We need someone to protect them.”

“There’s a time differential in play,” Cyrus said, looking to the Lion. “How much?” For once, he found himself happy he’d read through so many pulp novels.

“It is inconstant, right now,” the Lion said. “The eyes of the throne have yet to fall upon your world. But if we must venture a guess, perhaps six hours to half a day in your realm if you depart now.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Cyrus sucked air through his teeth. It all came down to the Bridger kid. If he’d died, then his father wouldn’t rest until he’d dismantled the compound to find their hiding spot. If he was still alive, they had a shot, assuming the dumbasses didn’t burn the compound down like they had Bunktown. If.

Too many ifs. “I’ll go back,” he said, as he checked the mag on the rifle. Yeah, still a few bullets left. “Dad, you too, since you were wounded and we need to get that looked at. Bartleby, you look like you’re going to keel over, so you should come with as well. Rusty, you too.”

“No. I’ve got the most powerful rune in case something goes wrong. Uh, no offense, mister Lion.”

“None taken. I will need most of my remaining magic to open the portal.”

Cyrus sighed. “All right. Beth and Carmina?”

“No. You should take Carmina and Catalina,” Beth said, folding her arms. “How will she find her parents without Catalina? It’s not like you could do that.”

“Sh… shoot.” Cyrus gnawed his lip, looked to Ken and Alice.

The two conferred, then nodded at him. “We’re good. Like Rusty, we’ve got some tricks to pull if things go wrong,” Ken said.

This kid had his head screwed on straight. Cyrus was a little proud of Rusty for making such good friends. “All right. Me, Bartleby, Dad, Carmina, and Catalina in the first wave. Please open the door, Mister… uh, the Lion.”

“Done.” The Lion bowed his head, and stretched out a hand, as the five of them moved in front of the portal. Carmina and Catalina held hands, Cyrus readied the rifle, just in case he had to use it to clear the LZ. Bartleby and Dad supported each other, like a pair of old drunks staggering home. He’s had practice with that, at least, Cyrus thought.

The rainbow blot in reality pulsed… and hesitated, as the black speck inside it grew… and stopped.

“Something is in there,” the Lion said, sounding confused. “I thought it would eject your leg, but this is bigger. Let me see—” The black spot grew, all at once, like a pupil dilating. “Go! Quickly!”

They ran, and as the rainbow light expanded around them, Cyrus saw something hurtle past him.

It was Bartleby’s leg, and Bartleby twisted in disgust to watch it go.

This cost him his life.

George came screaming out of the rift, steaming, eyes wide and mad and empty of anything but fear. He tore the shotgun off his back, and fired both barrels.

A sound of thunder filled the redoubt.

Bartleby fell.

And the Lion staggered… dropped…

Dead.

*****

If it had been anything but a shotgun shell to the face, the Lion’s charms would have handled it.

True, they had been worn down in the battle against the elves. But the Lion carried multiples of the charms that were proof against projectiles. They canceled the speed of projectiles as soon as they got within a foot of him, causing them to bounce harmlessly off his armor, as if they’d been hurled by all the force a particularly petulant baby could muster. It was just common sense to carry those, when you were up against elves.

But.. well, the shell in question held eight pellets of double-aught buckshot. And they came at the Lion with all the force that a shotgun could muster at a distance of about six feet. To the face.

The two remaining weakened charms broke. They managed to stop about half of it. The four remaining tore through the Lion’s head like needles through cheese.

He was dead before he hit the ground. Or, at least, he would have been, if he hadn’t been the Lion.

*****

Things happened very quickly, after that.

The portal winked shut, and the first group was gone. Rusty had enough time to see Bartleby topple before the rainbow door shrunk again, this time without the black speck in the middle.

He was dimly aware of the satyrs filling the howling madman with arrows as the murderer in the torn and frost-limned suit staggered backward, tumbling through a window and out, rolling down the steps of the pyramid and into the swamp.

But all this faded, as the sound of the world around him distorted, Ken and Alice froze in place, and even the satyrs, who had been so quick to react, slowed until they were barely moving.

“Rusty!” Roz wailed, popping into view near the portal. “He’s in your head! Like me!”

And then something drew itself up from the Lion’s corpse. Something that moved like an animated clay in a stop-motion film, something that was a thin tracery of rootlike veins studded with nodules that were faces, tiny faces, with a dinner-plate sized mask atop it. A feline mask, that moved as it spoke, staring at Rusty.

“I regret this, child. But I can not die here. You are the only vessel present, and I must continue.”

The veins lashed out, and Rusty felt them wrap around him, saw them expand spiderweb-like, pierced through him…

…and he felt himself start to slip into something like sleep.

“We will work well together,” the Lion said, and the words started to come through in deep water. “I will not spend your life in vain.”

Rusty closed his eyes.

But it sure as hell wasn’t to go to sleep!

He wrote his wishes in silver letters, and it was easier here, in this space that was entirely inside his mind.

“Make Lion forget how to do this.”

Memory wipe Guardian: Lion!

Committed chakra: 0/44

Cost: 5.

Remaining free chakra: 3/39

“Wait!” The Lion called, desperately, as the sound firmed up again. “No, you’ll die!”

Magic resistance detected... bypass?

Additional cost – 130 chakra

Rusty opened his eyes, glared at the Lion, and prepared to die. That much chakra… that would kill him. He was certain of it.

But he was ready to go.

Because after everyone he’d trusted here, EVERY DAMN ONE had turned out to be nothing but just another betrayer determined to exploit him, he was damned if he’d let his asshole win.

Better to go out on his own terms, then to be some goddamned magical asshole’s slave.

The Lion, the thing that was roots and faces and virus and more, sagged. “Very well. Remember that I let you do this to me,” it whispered.

Magic resistance lowered!

With a shudder, the Lion disappeared, Roz disappeared, and Rusty fell to his knees, clutching his head. Ow. OW that hurt.

He was dimly aware of Alice and Ken shaking him, hauling him up, dimly aware of the satyrs telling him they had to leave, now, and asking his permission to do so, dimly aware that he was understanding what the satyrs were saying now and hoping that wasn’t a bad thing…

But he managed to croak out a response. “Yes, take me to safety,” and by the time he realized that he hadn’t spoken in English, the two surviving satyrs had bundled him up like bodyguards with a client, and were fleeing down the stairs, followed by a frantic Ken and Alice… and Beth, who looked very confused, but the most determined he’d ever seen his sister.

The last thing he saw, before they fled into the swamp, was the madman, with three arrows in him, spasming in agony from where he lay atop Reevian’s corpse.

And then Rusty knew no more, as the darkness took him away.

*****

Light flashed, rainbow light, as Cyrus stepped clear of the portal, raising the rifle…

…and stared at a circle of pistols, held in the hands of some very, very serious-looking men in suits, in the remnants of what used to be the Cooper compound’s electrical shack, but was now a heap of ashes and fallen, charred scrap metal.

He dropped the rifle and raised his hands, as cameras went off, flashing like fireworks. Closing his eyes, he resigned himself to his fate, concentrating on breathing.

One breath, and they hadn’t fired. Two breaths, and he was still standing. Three breaths, and now they had him by the arms, dragging him away, and he heard his father and the two women protesting and yelling, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t going to shoot. He was laughing now, half in relief and half at the ridiculousness of it all.

They were from the government. And for once, for once in his goddamned life, they might be here to help.

*****

George was in the worst pain of his life. George thrashed, as the thing that had driven itself into his spine sent waves of what felt like fire ants biting up and down every inch of his nerves. They chewed, they ate, and he screamed until his throat gave out.

Only then did the pain ebb… to be replaced by the deep pain all down his chest, as he opened his eyes and saw the feathered shafts of arrows sticking out of his guts. He knew they weren’t lung shots because boy howdy had he screamed, but this was the first time George had actually been seriously hurt before, and he had no clue if he’d live. George whimpered, too afraid to move.

Then, the pain in his back vanished, as purple words flashed in midair.

Rune: Corruption has been integrated into your chakra network.

Total usage: 10/51

First Rune attuned. Chakra system awakened. Rune usage unlocked. Assensing unlocked. Consumption unlocked. Companion manifested.

UNDERSTAND.

“Oh no,” whimpered a nasal voice. George turned his head to see a big, fat rat, a dying rat, with its guts burst open and maggots in his eyes. Just like the dead rat that had scared him as a child. Just like the dead rat that he’d cooked and eaten to prove that he wasn’t going to be afraid of it, prove to himself that he could conquer that fear.

But he hadn’t proved anything, not really, because now the rat was back, and now he was going to die and then the maggots would come and eat him. “Oh no,” the rat whimpered again. “Look at what they did to us? Georgie, we need to get them for that. We need to get them back, buddy! We don’t deserve this! We’re the good guy! We’re innocent!”

That’s how Zarkimorr found him, when he marched upon the redoubt with a full squad of helots, and Jadar and Balangor and Terathon at his back.

“First the sound of thunder. Now the Dead lion. And the most innocent of them, the Chosen One, has appeared.” Zarkimorr smiled, as he observed the strange fool. From a safe distance, mind you. The man HAD killed the Lion, after all. Incautious wizards rarely became old wizards, and Zarkimorr was quite old. “Bring him,” Zarkimorr commanded the slave soldiers. “Use charms to make sure he lives. The first part of the prophecy is fulfilled. The King shall reveal the next steps, once I bring him the good news.”