Fiddleback Trilogy 3 - Evil Triumphant

  Awakening from a nightmare of pain and fire is not a pleasant experience. It is made less so by opening your eyes to find yourself lying on a bier in a sepulchre. I could feel death around me, clinging like stale perfume, and my return to consciousness came with a knowledge of death's reluctance to surrender its grip on me. With an etheric until we are one again, death left me alive but not at ease.

  My eyes, having been closed, were pre-adjusted to the darkness, but it took my brain some time to become used to seeing again. I had no idea where I was nor how long I had been there. I raised a hand to my chin and felt no stubble, which would have suggested only a short stay, but back at the edge of my jaw near my right ear I found a spot the person who had shaved me had missed.

  That hint of beard provided no clue as to the length of time I had spent in the small cave, but it did tell me other things that were valuable. The first was that I had not been left entirely alone to recover from my wounds. Second, and more significant, I found the attention to my appearance disquieting. It suggested at least one of those watching over me had given some thought to more than my recovery, but no one in my circle of acquaintances shared with me the sort of relationship that would bring with it such concerns.

  My right hand moved up from my jaw to touch the garland of laurel leaves encircling my head. It surprised me at first, then prompted a smile. I could have seen Crowley crowning me with such a wreath, but only after I had recovered. I realized then that the wreath, short kilt and sandals I wore were all of a set, and that answered some questions while creating more.

  Crowley had told me of a proto-dimension in which regeneration was part and parcel of the natural laws. I remembered enough of my last moment of consciousness to know I had to have been in dire need of that place's powers. Just the fact that I knew I wore sandals because of how the straps bound my calves and the leather felt against the soles of my feet meant that my broken spine and severed spinal cord had been repaired.

  I idly scratched my chin with my left hand and smiled when I felt no pain in the joint that had been destroyed fighting the Aryans. The return to functionality of my limbs, my return to life and my attire all suggested strongly that I had been deposited in the proto-dimension that had been placed as part of the Greek Tartarus in legends. Crowley would have seen to that because he knew better than anyone else that I would be needed to destroy Pygmalion.

  Crowley, on the other hand, would not have worried about my attire being in character with the place he left me. The cave would have been his choice because of the relative safety it granted me, but had I not been disturbed since he brought me to it, I would have still been wearing whatever clothes I had worn at the accident site or in the hospital.

  Closing my eyes, I brought my breathing under control. As I had been taught to do by Fiddleback's minions, and had reinforced by Lama Mong at a Tibetan monastery, I reached out with my mind to tear open the fabric of reality. I focused my mind on the suite I had once lived in at the Galactic Brotherhood headquarters, since its stark simplicity reminded me of the cave and bier. Pouring all my energy into it, I tried to force my way back to Earth.

  My attempt failed utterly and completely. I felt as if the proto-dimension in which I existed had become fossilized. The shell that protected it and segregated it from other proto-dimensions had become as hard as diamond. I could not penetrate it and I knew, consciously and intuitively, that my egress had been blocked very deliberately.

  I also knew that Fiddleback could not be doing the blocking and that Pygmalion, had he been able to discover me, would have destroyed me. That meant another Dark Lord, or someone of similar powers and abilities, had become enmeshed in my fate.

  For a moment, returning to my nightmare seemed like a pleasant alternative to living. I knew that, as inviting as that surcease might have seemed, allowing myself to accept it would have doomed millions as Fiddleback and Pygmalion fought for control of Earth. I had decided long ago that I would not be a party, either active or passive, to such a thing, so I resolved to live on.

  With my stomach muscles aching in protest because of their long inactivity, I sat up. The cave, with its glassy-smooth walls, appeared to have been formed when an oval bubble of gas became frozen in the middle of a lava-flow. At the end toward which my head had been pointing, a narrow tunnel led out toward sunlight, yet contained enough twists and turns that only a diffuse amount of light illuminated the interior of the cave.

  And the woman standing across from me.

  Swinging around to face her, I let my legs hang over the edge of the bier and dangle an inch or so above the ground. I smiled. "I would have hoped for more suitable attire when I met the Empress of Diamonds."

  The petite woman covered her surprise well. I felt none of it, and only caught a hint of it in the slight tremor running through the dark veil hanging down from the brim of her hat. Wearing a sleeveless, black leather dress that fell to her calf, elbow length gloves and ankle-high boots, she seemed appropriately dressed for a graveside appearance. A diamond choker, bracelet and anklet provided a striking contrast to her clothes, and the choker looked especially attractive against the darkish flesh of her throat.

  She spoke carefully, in a voice I recognized, with a diction and vocabulary I could not reconcile with the person I had known in the body she wore. "Your deductive abilities have been woefully underestimated. Shall I call you Coyote, or does another of your pseudonyms please you more?"

  "Coyote will suffice." I chose not to stand, which left us at an equal eye level. "I admit I am amiss in not having established contact with you sooner, but until now I had not pieced together the implications of the things in which I have been involved."

  "You have been preoccupied. Opposing one like Fiddleback is not a task that permits distraction."

  I nodded appreciatively. "True, but it is a task that demands certain skills and abilities which prompted my predecessor to choose me to continue his crusade to keep Earth free. Those abilities include things like being able to actually perceive things in dimensions outside that of your birth and dimension walking. Coyote could not do those things — he was blind to the reality outside that of Earth."

  I gestured toward her. "This is the reason he concluded an alliance with you and invited you to place Natch Feral as your agent within his core group. He needed someone through which he could gain information about Dark Lord activities. Jytte had knowledge of Pygmalion, but even she denied it and denies it still. Entering into an alliance with a Dark Lord is a difficult thing to justify. Did he see you as the least of the evils?"

  Even her laughter sounded different. More throaty, it carried with it less of an edge and spoke to eons of life and experience. "I believe he saw me as the last of the evils." She stepped closer to me, crossing the small chamber in two steps and readjusted the laurel wreath on my head. "How do you like your clothes?"

  "Functional, though a bit less utilitarian than I might prefer." I narrowed my eyes and tried to pierce the veil's shadow, but even knowing what lay behind it, I could see nothing. "How are you the last of the evils he could face?"

  She laughed again, throwing her head back and giving me a fleeting glimpse of her jaw. "Unlike your Pygmalion and Fiddleback, I do not have an aggressive aspect. They are builders and synthesizers. I am a salvager. I salvaged your clothing from the Titan who is imprisoned here." She held up her right hand and jiggled the bracelet. "If you think of it, even these diamonds are salvaged from carbon. I salvage things and make them my own."

  I reached up with my left hand and carefully pulled off her hat. "You salvaged Natch's body."

  "I salvaged Natch herself. I sensed her distress and actually had some of my people whisk her body away before she was dead." She looked at me through Natch's blue eyes, but in a way Natch had never looked at me. "I thought it would be suitable to wear a familiar face to greet you on your waking."

  I frowned. "Natch is not dead?"

  "By no means — she was too faithful and loyal, unconsciousl
y so, that I would not let her die." The Empress of Diamonds gave me a smile that almost seemed right. "I salvaged her once before, though she never knew it, because I used Coyote as my agent to save her. As I am a carbon-based life form too, slipping in and using her body is not at all difficult. I often used her to communicate with Coyote directly."

  "And you used her to salvage Bat?"

  "My aspect is salvage, not disaster relief." She left her left index finger trace the line of my jaw. "Coyote was willing to work with me to oppose Fiddleback because he knew I would and could only exert power after another Dark Lord had brought something to ruination. Having enough power to conquer and despoil the Earth would be more than enough needed to destroy me, preventing me from bringing my plans to fruition, so we had an alliance born in a common enemy."

  I smiled slowly. "So, why are you here? Am I salvage?"

  The Empress of Diamonds turned Natch's body away from me in a coy move that would have embarrassed Natch to death. "No, but I am interested in salvaging my alliance with Coyote."

  "I see." I leaned back, posting my arms against the top of the bier. "You know Coyote did not trust you. The first thing I did in playing the elaborate charade he arranged for me was to destroy one of your Reaper outfits."

  She shot me an amused glance over her right shoulder. "He always did begrudge me that little inroad into Earth, but I take my power where I can get it. Your effort was damaging, but not very significant and pales in comparison with the rampage Bat has been on to find those who took Natch's body. Your attack did, however, draw my attention to your competence. Coyote chose you well."

  I stared at the valley between her shoulderblades. "He wanted a weapon to use against Fiddleback. Is that what you want?"

  "I could settle for that, but I think I want something more of you than did your predecessor." She turned full around, and intensity flooded her blue eyes. "I would make you my consort: a full and equal companion for me." She brought her hands together, then opened them again, conjuring a neck torque formed of diamond.

  The torque drifted toward me and I felt an almost overwhelming desire to bare my throat to its touch. I could feel the power radiating off it. Accepting it would make me a Dark Lord just like her. We both knew I had been groomed by Fiddleback to become a Dark Lord, so handling the power was not a problem. All I had to do was to accept what she offered.

  In concert with her, I knew no Dark Lord could stand against us. Trained to be an assassin, with the synthesizing aspect of my creator, I could meld together creatures to form an invincible army. My Empress would be able to salvage the best of the enemies we defeated, and I would cast them in new molds. With each conquest we would grow stronger and stronger until nothing could withstand our assaults. I could annihilate everything, destroying the universe, and she could remake it in whatever image suited us.

  If we tired of it, if it ever bored us, we could begin the process all over again. It would be the ultimate quickening of the cycle of life and death, through our power, to our glorification. And all it would take was my willing acceptance of the power she offered.

  A savage agony thrust like an obsidian dagger into my stomach and started to rip up through my chest. I felt it saw through every connection of rib to sternum, the invisible blade grating against my bones like a wood-saw bumping its way across a steel rod. I raised my hands to my chest, but the second flesh touched flesh, hands and chest both felt as if they had been pierced by a million molten needs.

  "No! No!" I gasped against the pain. The torque stopped its forward motion, then dissolved. As it went, so did the pain in my chest.

  Not so the pain I felt deeper in my soul. The core of my willingness to battle Fiddleback and Pygmalion came from my knowledge that to sustain their power required the misery of helpless victims. I had felt the seduction of power when Fiddleback had offered it to me before. I had been tempted by the grand visions of what our blending, the Empress and I, would bring. When viewing it from the pinnacle of power, the misery of other creatures seemed inconsequential.

  My perspective did not come from the pinnacle, but from the nadir of powerlessness. I had seen the desperation of people like Tadd Farber. I knew the fearful hatred the self-perception of victimization spawned in people like the Aryan Warriors. I saw the pain in Sinclair MacNeal at the callous and hateful neglect he suffered at the hands of his father. I knew these people, I counted them as friends and enemies, but I did not want to number them among my victims.

  Dark Lords clearly have a sociopathic lack of any sort of conscience. To them, people are resources to be used. They are bees to a beekeeper, but with a subtle difference: The beekeeper does what he can to make life for his bees wonderful because he draws a product from them. Because the Dark Lords find misery and fear honey-sweet, the creatures in their hives have to lead hellish lives.

  I looked up at the Empress of Diamonds. "Even if I desired your offer, I could not accept it. Fiddleback has endowed me with a mechanism that will kill me were I to take on a Dark Lord's power against his will. He learned from Pygmalion, and will not make the same mistake."

  "Fiddleback would never allow you to become my consort while he still lives." The Empress licked her lips deliciously. "An obvious remedy to that situation suggests itself."

  "I agree." I slid off the bier and stood. "Once Fiddleback has eliminated Pygmalion, he will be my biggest problem. To kill a Dark Lord, one has to use a Dark Lord."

  "You think like one of us already. Fiddleback says he made you, but I think you may have been a natural all along." She closed again and pressed her hands against my chest. "You will honor my alliance with Coyote? Once you and Fiddleback have destroyed Pygmalion, I will help you destroy Fiddleback."

  "Agreed."

  She raised an eyebrow in a very un-Natch way. "You have a plan?"

  "I'll put something together." I smiled. "Right now, though, I need to return to Earth. I tried that before, but I could not get out of here. It was as if this proto-dimension had been hardened."

  The Empress of Diamonds nodded. "It was. This proto-dimension's nature and my aspect have a natural affinity. With a sufficient expenditure of power, I can make the dimensional wall all but impenetrable. Any Dark Lord can do that, if his aspect is compatible with the dimension. Pygmalion has done that with his dimension because of the disaster with his little pet."

  I frowned. "Disaster? Something has happened with Ryuhito?"

  "It did, which means Pygmalion is lairing up. Even so, I know you will find a way to destroy him. You can leave this place now. And here, I make you a present." Natch's body slumped against mine, but I caught her before she could fall to the floor.

  With crystalline clarity, a voice spoke within my mind. "Care for her well, Coyote. You both have value to me. When you need me, tell her and I will know. Together we will not be defeated."

  It would have seemed to me that my return and my bringing Natch Feral back with me would have sparked quite a reaction when I arrived in Earth. As I had planned before, I decided to reenter the dimension of my birth in Japan, at the Galactic Brotherhood headquarters. I made that choice because, as I recalled, we had decided to use the Japanese base as a staging area for sending people and equipment into whatever dimension we were using to get close to Pygmalion.

  I materialized in the jungle courtyard with the dimensional gateway at the Galbro facility, but no one took any notice of me at all. Standing there, with Natch's unconscious body in my arms, I looked almost normal. All around me, arrayed in neat lines, I saw bloodied and unmoving bodies. Off to my right, closer to the facility's main building than I stood, stretcher bearers stepped from the dimensional gateway and headed off with an injured person.

  "Crowley!" I started to work my way toward the man as I saw him exit the gateway. He turned toward me, his face an angry mask. He had another man's left arm looped over his shoulders and, with a firm grip on the man's belt, Crowley half-lifted the injured man over the lip of the gateway.

  Crowley's
expression lightened only slightly when he realized who I was, then he shook his head. "Just a minute." As he started shuffling toward the building, I recognized the man he was helping. As if the bodies had not been enough evidence of a dire catastrophe, Bat's blood-soaked shirt and the weakness of his staggering steps told me how bad things had really gotten.

  Two medical technicians took Bat from Crowley and helped him toward the building. Another relieved me of Natch's body, undoubtedly assuming she had been injured in the same disaster that had claimed all these others. I caught not even a flicker of curiosity about me or my clothing, just fatigue and a concentration on the tasks at hand.

  I turned to Crowley. "What happened?"

  Emotionally, from what I could sense, the haggard man in front of me did not exist. "We won."