Aces and Eights Page 18
Harvey Smith
Fog hung in clumps at various levels about the room, occasionally ripped and moved into new configurations by the powerful currents of air. The floor was completely lost under a roiling blanket of mist. I could no longer see the far wall; the left and right walls were equally blanked by fog. The area seemed larger, no longer confined to a single room.
Spread out before us at an indeterminate range, the energy wheel burned darkly again, though it was still dominated by the massive tree. This time, however, the two did not seem at odds. The wheel, I suddenly suspected, was integrating the tree. It was either being manipulated by Merequist, or it was altering itself. Surrounded by a nimbus of syrupy, indigo flame, the massive oak pulsed in time with the wheel. The fog on the floor did not touch the thing, but was held back by an unseen force.
As I studied the place, the circle in the gray-green mist opened continually wider, venting greater amounts of wind. When the window Luke was creating was large enough to be called a doorway, he said, "Follow me," and moved forward.
And I did, stepping through the foggy archway in his wake. Behind me, I heard the portal slowly closing, whistling as it shrank in size. Buffeted by the wind, we walked cautiously ahead, watching for anything unusual and seeing plenty of it. Merequist, however, was still not in sight. Distance perspectives, I began to notice, seemed to function differently here. The wheel and tree now appeared farther away than they had before. The area around us and above us seemed voluminous, endless.
We passed a patch of drifting emerald mist that was perhaps thirty feet in height, a half that distance across at its widest point. "I wonder where we really are right now," I said to my red-bearded companion.
He laughed. "Anywhere and nowhere�some godforsaken corner of Limbo." After a few seconds of silence, he pointed forward and to the right�one o'clock from our position�and said, "He's out there, still doing whatever it was he was occupied with when I first probed this place."
As we headed in the direction in which he had indicated, I suddenly glimpsed a flicker of movement to the left. I was not sure if I had actually seen something move, or if it had merely been a trick of this weird place. I started to mention it to Luke, but he beat me to it. "What was that?"
"I couldn't tell. If you want, I'll go check it out, then meet up with you over near where you suspect Merequist is located."
He nodded quickly. "Sounds good, but be careful."
We parted ways there, and as I headed away through the fog, Luke's form grew more vague with every step. A moment later, I could no longer see him at all. Walking along, I kept the massive oak to my right, giving it a wide berth. I maneuvered between columns of mist that were scattered through the area like trees in some shadowy, insubstantial forest. Due to the wind, some of the columns drifted slowly, rearranging themselves intermittently. That layer of fog which had settled to the ground prevented me from seeing anything below knee level, so I walked with careful steps.
I briefly considered altering my shape, but I was doubtful that the odd atmospheric conditions would allow me to benefit from any olfactory cues, so I decided against it. Besides, I had been through a lot and shape-shifting is generally an exhausting pain in the ass. A few steps farther and the mist parted to reveal a form.
Kyla stood before me, curved blade in hand and feet spread apart at shoulders' width. Her weapon, held pointed downward along her right leg, was about two and a half feet long, made of some blue-toned metal and bore a series of wicked-looking points and upturned edges along the inside arc of the blade. "Nigel," she said, saluting me with the devilish thing.
"Same place, different circumstances." I forced my gaze from her sword to her eyes, which were just as piercing.
"Is it the same place, really?" She took a small step forward and offered me an ethereal smile.
"Sorry, but I never got a copy of the blueprints, so I can't answer the question. Maybe you should ask the architect."
"Even Merequist isn't sure exactly what happened. At first, he thought that you had deliberately worked some incredible change on this place�upon the Shar'Chal itself. But he discarded that idea quickly; he realized that you could not possibly have managed it. He concluded that whatever has happened is simply the by-product of your desperate action."
"The Shar'Chal is what he calls the energy wheel?"
"Yes."
"It's some sort personalized power tool, isn't it?"
"Yes. A Chaos construct."
"So what happened to it?"
She glanced to her left, where the skeletal tree was still visible, standing at the center of what she had called the Shar'Chal, reaching up through the mist. "It warped the Shadows around it, effectively relocating certain portions of itself. It now exists in many separate places."
"Sounds like Merequist isn't calling the shots anymore."
"I do not know what degree of control he currently possesses over the thing." Her voice held a faint touch of apathy.
"So he sent you to find me, while he tries to figure out how to fix his toy."
"Essentially, yes."
"So you've found me. What now?"
"I suppose," she said, "we could fight a duel, or�"