CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

The End of the World

Richards’ eyes snapped open. He sat up on the altar. The chains binding him fell away. He flexed his hand. There was a stiffness to his arm, but the wound had healed white and smooth, a runway for old pain.

Only a second had passed.

Hog recoiled. The figure of Annersley faded back into swinish monster.

“I am not Hog?”

Richards looked up at the sweating pig. “You asked me what manner of beast you are. You are no beast. You are not Hog. Sorry.” Richards slipped off the altar. “This place did a number on you, just like it did to poor Planna, Spink, and Rolston.”

“No!” Hog roared. “I refuse to believe it! Seize him!” Hog’s mooks wavered. “Seize him!” The mooks made for Richards. He held up his hand and they froze.

“Nope, no seizing today.” Richards breathed deep as his mind infiltrated the realm construct. He might be shut out of the Grid, but he was fully layered into Marita’s World. He reached out. Not much of Waldo’s creation remained now, and what was left was reducing quickly.

“Penumbra should be here any moment,” said Richards. “This will all be over soon. Hey, Waldo, you can come out now.”

A man appeared with a flash in the heart of the temple.

“The Flower King! The Flower King is here!” The news rippled round the amphitheatre from mook and man alike. Those who could fell to their knees, Bear’s fur soaked up the gore of Hog’s feast.

There was a rumble and the ground shook. Rocks fell from the wall and bounced into the audience of mooks, crushing many.

“And Waldo, you can come out again,” said Richards.

A slow clapping sounded around the amphitheatre.

“Here we go,” said Richards.

Another figure stepped from the head of the staircase and into the amphitheatre, this one of writhing shadow, armoured in night.

“Hog, dear Hog, at this very last, I come for you.”

“But our pact!” roared Hog. “My mooks, my mountain, we would remain, an eternal bastion of pain!”

“I see you do not honour your bargains, Lord of the Swine. You promised me the queen and I see no queen. Why should I honour my side of our business?” Penumbra walked across the arena floor; his skin still crawled, but his features were solidifying, and a human face was appearing. “You are a fool, Hog. Now you will die, and when you are dead, this world will be gone, a fitting punishment.”

“Is that so?” said Hog. “Then why can I see a future?”

“You attempt to buy more life, fly-lord.” Penumbra drew his flickering blade of darkness out. “That cannot be. There can be no future for anyone here, not you, nor I.” He held his sword in the air, its darkness sucking in the light, and addressed all present. “I made this place. I made this place for you all, and what did you do? You cast down the queen I set above you, and made the world a ruin. As I made you, so I unmake you. That is your punishment, that is the judgement of Penumbra!”

Round the top of the arena’s cliffs, all up the rift in the wall, from the doors into the temple circle, and the stairs into the depths, came the clanking of iron feet. Penumbra’s army came forth. The mooks milled about, a confused chittering rising from their ranks.

Hog gaped, then his face hardened. “Mook-guard, release your prisoner.” Bear grimaced as his paws and muzzles were freed. A cowering mook handed him his gauntlets and he slipped them on.

Hog looked at the bemused Waldo, who stared around as if drugged. “There is a chance. We must make him whole,” he said to Richards. “I understand now.”

“Make who whole?” said Bear.

“Him. Giacomo. Waldo. He’s the Flower King. Sort of, but so –” Richards jabbed his finger at Penumbra “– is he. Also sort of.”

“What?” said Bear.

“They’re part of the same thing. Waldo, Giacomo, your Flower King, he died in here. The system took an imprint of his personality, because he made it. He literally put himself into this creation. Only he can kick k52 out. He made this world; he can do what he wants, if he remembers how, but he can’t do anything in this state.”

“Hog will live?” asked Hog.

“He might,” said Richards.

“Then Hog fights for Mr Richards!”

“How many times do I have to say,” said Richards. “Misters are for men, and I’m no Mister Man. It’s just Richards.” He was given his sword back. “Now, has everybody got that? Good.”

Sobieski’s face was orange and angry on Chloe’s screen. “Absolutely not, Klein. Your mission failed, through no fault of your own. Damn shame about Chures, he was a good man. But we risk losing a lot more if we don’t wrap this up. We’re going straight to plan B. Swan’s ready. We’ve got to move before k52 does.”

“Tell me, Sobieksi, how did Henson’s mission play out? Not well, I’ll guess. This is going the same way.”

The EuGene’s expression hardened. “We’re going ahead. The stratobomber is in place. k52’s making his move. Grid activity is being disrupted worldwide. We’ve large spikes of activity in the Reality House. There’s been movement on k52’s link into the EuPol Central choir. We will execute our plan as discussed, Klein, and we have to do it now.”

“Ten to one you’re playing exactly into k52’s hands,” said Otto.

Sobieski cut the call.

“They’re not listening. They’re going to blow it, that damn EuGene at the VIPA… Commander Hsien, does your agreement with the VIPA still stand?”

Hsien frowned. “The fugitive has been found. The agreement is finished. I must escort you out of Chinese territory.”

“The world might be about to end. So I’ll ask you again, does the agreement still stand?”

Hsien paused.

“Yes,” he said in English himself this time.

“How quickly can you get me to Nevada?”

Hsien consulted with his superiors. “We can get you on a stratojet in half an hour.”

“And then it’s another hour to the States,” said Otto. “One hour is an hour too many, and there’s no more reason they’d listen to me face to face. We have to stop them.”

“What will happen if you don’t?” said Hsien. “You seek to act on the information of an AI. How can you be sure that was your… partner?” he said with distaste.

“That was Richards,” said Otto. “You learn to tell them apart after a while, even when they’re pretending to be each other. I have no idea what the result will be if we let the bombs go off, but if Richards says we should stop it, then we should. He is nearly always right, which pisses me off, but there we are.”

“There is another way,” said Valdaire. “You could use remote access.”

“If they’ll say no to me on the phone, and they’ll say no to my face, they’ll say no to a sheath,” said Otto.

“Then you’ll have to fight your way in, and persuade them otherwise,” she said. “You have resources in the States, right?”

“Sure. LA, New York, a couple of other places.”

“Richards got any sheaths there?”

“Yeah,” said Otto. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“A good airbike, I expect,” said Valdaire.

“We’ve got a Hermes in LA, a good sport model. Good speed,” said Otto.

“One of Richards’ sheaths out of LA could be in Las Vegas in an hour, then, if you fly,” said Valdaire. “This was a top-of-the-line set-up Waldo has here. He has v-jacks. I can reconfigure those to control a sheath remotely. It’ll be like your own body. Better than the usual tech. Full immersion.”

“Hsien’s men just disconnected it.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Valdaire. “I can make it work.”

“You want me to borrow one of Richards’ bodies, and use it to break into the RealWorld Realities vault and stop an atomic bomb going off?”

“Do you have a better idea?” said Valdaire.

“He had a pair of v-jacks, right?” said Lehmann.

“Yeah,” said Valdaire. “You could go too. That might be an idea.”

“No,” said Otto. “Lehmann, you’re staying here, I need you to keep an eye on things.” Otto rubbed his hand over his face. Wearing Richards’ robotic body sounded about as appealing as slipping on someone else’s old underwear. “Scheisse,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

“Mooks! Arise, fight, destroy! We will not be cowed. Attack, attack, hog on, brothers!”

The mooks snatched up whatever came to hand – rocks, bits of bone, the skulls of ancient meals – and with a roar of “Hog on!” They charged.

The ground shook with more than the thunder of mooky feet. Boulders slipped free from the cliffs. A crack ran through the seating. The snap of dissolving atoms crackled everywhere, and the eye of the Terror filled the sky.

“We have to bring the shadow to the Flower King,” said Richards. “Without it we can do nothing. You, Waldo, stay here with the pig ogre.”

“That’ll be nice,” said Waldo.

“Oink,” said Hog affirmatively. His guardian mooks gathered round him, and presented a wall of pikes.

“Ready, Bear?” said Richards.

“Roger roger,” said Bear, and cast himself into the fray, hurling Penumbra’s creatures aside to clear a path for Richards.

The creatures of Penumbra charged into the Anvil’s heart, cutting down the mooks with broad-bladed swords. Haemites sucked the life from scores. Others, welded into pairs and bearing flameflowers integrated into their bodies, burnt many more. Hundreds of mooks died in the first few moments, but they were fuelled by the fiercest fanaticism, and the vanguard of Penumbra’s force was pulled down and torn apart. Bear took on an entire phalanx on his own, battering his way in a frenzy through scores of gaming cast-offs. By the altar, Hog’s elite guard kept the worst at bay, but the cordon tightened, and soon Lord Hog himself was forced back onto his altar, cleaver in one hand, a long skewer in the other, Waldo behind him. Increasing numbers of trollmen and haemites made their way through the thinning mooks to duel with the guard. Where they came close, Hog himself smashed them down with his cleaver, plucked them from the floor and hurled them into their comrades, split from crown to crotch, his bodyguard finishing them off with flashing blades.

“Hurry! Hurry! I cannot hold them for much longer,” he snorted.

The mountain shook anew, rocks fell. Gaps appeared in the walls, chasms across the floor, blackness visible through them all. Wind blew upward as the Terror devoured the air, and the shattering of reality was set against the raw, screaming tumult of war.

Bear and Richards fought their way forward toward Penumbra. Richards despatched some small goblinoid thing. An angry squeal had him turn back to the centre to see Hog taken in the side by a long spear. He bellowed, smashing the shaft to matchwood and pulling upon it, dragging the unfortunate creature wielding it within chopping distance whereupon it was swiftly dispatched. Hog snorted loudly.

“Hog will not wait to be taken!” he said, and waded into the foe.

The mooks were falling like wheat before a scythe. The whole cavern trembled now as the mountain died with its defenders. The last great bastion of the world was coming apart, and ahead of Richards Penumbra laughed. He was becoming less of a shadow with each death, a double of Waldo in dark armour.

A tremor brought a section of wall down, shattering into fizzling numbers on the ground, crushing many from both sides.

“Get to him, before it’s too late!” Richards shouted, and ran up collapsing steps. Bear heard, and dropping to all fours powered his way through the army of darkness. Their paths joined, and they leapt along benches that were shattering into dust and atoms. Richards cleared a gap already yawning onto the depthless void, and found himself face to face with Penumbra.

“Come with me, Giacomo, it’s the only way.”

Penumbra stared down at him, bright white eyes in Giacomon’s face made of reversed planes of shade and light. For a moment, Richards thought he might agree, but he raised his sword and said a single word.

“No.”

Richards was immediately assailed by a half dozen monsters, and lost sight of the shadow lord. He cut down some toothy nightmare, and caught sight of Bear running at Penumbra.

Richards called out to the animal, but his voice was lost. He exerted his limited influence on the world to turn aside blades, rocks bouncing from an invisible shield about him. When a huge stone flattened his haemite opponent to scrap, and his attention could return to Bear, he was engaged in a desperate fight with Penumbra. Bear was a creature of brute strength, yet Penumbra had exceptional command of his blade, for it was a part of his black heart. They danced back and forth, leaping over holes opening in the benches, twisting away from each other’s weapons when the ground shook harder, slaying creatures of both sides who dared to interrupt their duel.

Shadow-sword turned steel claws aside. Armoured gauntlets forced soul-sucking blade away. Penumbra attempted to execute a high-handed thrust, coming in over Bear’s guard, but the sergeant saw it, swayed out of the way, then swung his long arm out, bypassing Penumbra’s parry, and swiping his deep through the chest.

Bear’s shout of triumph turned to dismay. Penumbra’s flesh rippled as if Bear’s blades had passed through water.

Penumbra glanced down with amusement.

“No matter how hard you fight, you will never best me. Do you not see? As this world dies, I grow stronger. Each death brings me closer to my rightful state.”

He pressed his attack, forcing Bear back. The giant animal was being pushed closer and closer to the edge of a growing hole in the floor that was sucking down mooks, haemites, wicked men and more esoteric creatures to nothing by the score.

Richards saw his chance, and slipped behind the shadow. Bear grinned.

“I do not see what you find so amusing. Soon you will be dead, and the insult to the queen avenged.”

“Don’t bet on it, sunshine,” said Bear. He pointed behind him.

“Hog on, brother,” said Richards, and stabbed.

Penumbra turned his blade contemptuously aside, and thrust, taking Richards right in the heart. Penumbra laughed, then stopped. Richards was resolutely whole.

“Oof,” Richards said. “That smarts. Ooh, that really does.”

Penumbra tried to yank his blade free, but it stuck fast. Light sprang up around the weapon, and the sword began to shake.

“You’ve made an error there, Penumbra. This sword is trying to absorb me, like it has everything else. That’s all fine for these things, but not for me. I am a Class Five AI, and I am plugged directly into the Grid, the great ocean of knowledge, and that is a sea you can never drink dry.”

Penumbra screamed. His eyes and mouth blazed light.

“Right about now please, Bear, this really hurts,” said Richards.

“Right then, you slippery bastard,” said Bear. “I’ve have enough of funny business.” The huge toy leant forward and prodded the shadow, who was a shadow no more, but Waldo in a suit of leaden armour. His arm was solid, and bled a little where Bear’s claw poked. “Yep,” said Bear, “that’s that for you,” and scooped up the warlord. Richards pushed himself free of the sword, and Bear jammed Richards under his free arm.

“Ouch,” said Richards.

Escorted by a score of mooks, Bear kicked his way through the warring armies towards the altar where Lord Hog protected the other Waldo against a dozen assailants.

“Let us strike a deal,” said Penumbra.

“No sale, chum.” The guard saw him coming, and parted. Bear kicked the head off a trollman and clambered up onto the dais, and the mooks closed ranks behind him.

He set Richards down.

“Now what?”

“We have to join them together,” said Richards.

“Righty-ho, get on with it then,” said Bear, leaning out over mookish heads to sweep his free arm across the horde of foes, and send them spilling back.

“I don’t know how!” said Richards.

“What?”

“I hadn’t worked that bit out.”

“Oh, please,” said Bear, shaking his head so hard his little helmet nearly fell off. “Right. I’ve got an idea.” He patted at his side and ripped open his flap, and produced his needle. Richards hustled the dazed Waldo over to the shadow lord struggling under Bear’s arm. “Let’s stitch the bastards back together.”

“Do not,” said Penumbra. “Think of yourself. Think of the box in the attic. Serve me, and never see a rafter again.”

“Not listening,” said Bear.

They had Waldo sit, and pressed the shadow’s soles against Waldo’s feet while Hog kept the enemy back. “Right, you little sod,” said Bear. “I’m going to Peter Pan you good and proper.”

A huge section of the mountain wall fell away with a rushing crash. Little remained of the Anvil now but the inner temple.

Bear stuck out his tongue. The first stitch went in, pricking blood from Waldo’s feet. It drew a howl of despair from the shadow. Waldo looked on, puzzled.

“What are you doing?” he said. “That tickles.”

“Nooooo!” screamed Penumbra.

“Yeeeees!” cackled Bear. He stitched swiftly, humming as he worked.

“Aieeeee!!!!!” cried Penumbra. As each new, neat stitch went in, Penumbra became flatter and flatter, his features less distinct. Bear finished off the first foot and moved to the other. The guard watching his back fell, and a morblin exploited the gap to ram a pike into the Bear’s side, then a haemite chopped into him with a rusty seax. Bear irritably punched them away, Richards moved round behind to protect him.

“Better hurry this up, Bear,” Bear muttered, and stitched faster than he ever had before.

“Sew it on, quickly now,” shouted Richards. There were only a handful of Hog’s bodyguard left. Hog was beset at all quarters, his cleaver flashing, taking heads, but there were always more necks to part. Another pike stabbed Hog in the belly. He bellowed, grabbed the wood and flung the bearer aside, but more pike men were coming, and they were organising into ranks, keeping themselves back from his cleaver, and jabbing between swipes.The point dipping in and out of his tough skin like swift, red tongues, and then more drove in, impaling him. He swept his cleaver down, breaking the heads off the shafts and leaving the heads embedded in his torso, but the attack was redoubled, things swarmed over him, and he was stabbed again and again.

“Save me!” screamed Penumbra. “Get the pig and kill the bear!”

Warriors bearing heavy falchions moved up between the pikemen, and Hog was swamped. The last of the elite mook guard fell, and the enemy dragged the Lord of Meat to the ground. Morblins, trollmen, haemites, and things with far too many teeth to have proper names tore at him. He went down oinking, the wall of creatures collapsed like a dam, and Richards was trampled by the mass as they scrabbled to get at the bear. He tried to get up, but was stamped back down by hooves and iron shod feet.

“Get him off me! Cut the stitches!” ordered Penumbra. He was little more than a dusky cutout of a man.

“No!” said Bear. “One… more… stitch!” His assailants stabbed and cut him. One of them tore an eye loose with filthy fingers, and it clinked upon the ground. They ripped long strips of fabric from him and stuffing spilled. He struggled the needle in, but they dragged him back, his skin splitting. They hung off his arm, attempting to drag the needle free. Others hauled at his back, but Bear heaved forward, his strength too much for them. With one last heroic effort he hauled them all with him, and using all his strength, pulled the thread through Penumbra’s foot one last time. Then he let go.

Bear fell, and everything hauling at him went down at once. The scrum parted, Richards shoved his way back to his feet, only to see a pair of conjoined haemites prime their flamethrower and point the nozzle at Bear’s back.

“Sergeant Bear,” he shouted. “Look out!”

A burning light burst from Waldo and washed out over the cavern. Bear roared. The Terror crackled with triumphant thunder. Lightning stabbed down, and the cavern shattered into nothing.

The haemites, in the instant they felt their unnatural life desert them, fired.

Lord Penumbra ceased to be as flames washed over Bear, setting his fur ablaze.

Bear, on fire, fell.