Выбрать главу

His astral body found the minuscule point of light and he wove a tiny strand of power to it, a thin pencil of light stretching into and through the barrier, drawing itself back to his body, through Luther's barrier, creating a breach in the shield wall. He went back into his body and called to Mathanas.

"Take it," he said simply. "Go in through it." He walked up to the shattered, blazing remains of the monastery, leaving Mathanas to weave his own magic. He took up the cauldron and walked through what looked very much like the gates of hell.

"It is theoretically impossible, of course," Luther droned on. "It is not possible for a retrovirus to infect the germ line. That's the point. A virus that has the effect of destroying key neural systems, those involved in will and volition, that's easy enough. One that is engineered only to trigger such an effect when the genome lacks the meta-type gene complex, that takes time. One that also goes back into the germ line and affects all future offspring is almost an impossibility. It took me nearly seventy years to create it.

"That's the wonder, the beauty of it. It will make humanity pliable, will-less, automata in perpetuity. There is no remedy. Gene therapy wouldn't work because the neural damage is irreversible. Oh, well, perhaps certain neural substitution treatments might compensate, but they're tricky to handle and the expense is enormous. Not feasible for billions of people. Especially when no one left would want to do it anyway.

"The virus is irresistible. Stable, reasonably persistent, it lies dormant in a whole variety of mammalian vectors and is agreeably infectious. Samples will arrive with elven groups in twelve countries within six hours, though of course things are at a more advanced stage locally." He pointed to the small metal boxes sealed on a table before him. One, Serrin noticed, had not been filled. Yet?

"The next stage, of course, is to develop the virus to create variants that affect only certain metatypes. Then filth like orks and trolls can be pacified as well. Not that,

in the interim, they're going to be any kind of problem. They simply don't have the intelligence of elves."

His eyes were flaring with his madness. For all the coldness and self-control, Luther's inner fires were still alive. He stared at Serrin again.

"Oh, you fool. Why didn't you want to be part of this beauty? We can all be Princes now, we elven people. This is a joy, a wonder, a glory to behold. Now I know how the scientists felt when they saw the first mushroom cloud. I've been waiting nearly three centuries for my own people to be born into the world, and now I will lead them into the promised land."

He leaned back and clenched his fists, an expression of indescribable joy and peace on his face.

Tom couldn't scream as he needed to. Something was funneling into him, a burning fire that left him spinning helplessly in some place he didn't even know existed. It felt like his very soul was being shredded by diamond claws, his memories and emotions fragmented, his very personality rent asunder.

"I'm going to free the world!" Luther screamed and lunged toward Serrin, to sink his bared teeth into the elf's throat and drain everything of life and soul from him. Then he stopped, staring stupidly at the troll, his jaw dropping.

Metal was extruding, flowing like liquid, from the troll's skin. From his right hand came a stream of coldly molten, viscous steel dripping onto the floor. From the skin of the troll's arms and legs seeped what looked like liquefied meat streaked with metal, also dripping and dribbling onto the floor. Luther was transfixed, unable even to comprehend what was happening as the spirit began to form from the body of the troll.

"No, you're not, Lutair." A quiet elven voice came from the doorway. "You are not the Creator."

Niall took the golden vessel in his hands and pointed it up to the ceiling. The immense spirit, manifested as an implacable elf, took hold of the power Niall released and channeled it into a glowing line of force, striking up against a hundred feet of earth and stone.

Earth and stone gave way. It simply vanished, leaving

a huge hollow shaft reaching up into the air above. Luther stood below it, unable to comprehend it. Far above him, air solidified into a brilliant mirror. Streaming down the shaft came the reflected light of a summer's dawn.

Luther screamed, staggering away from the light. Blood welled up in his eyes and dripped from his ears and nostrils. From the elf's cauldron, rippling light poured around the base of the shaft, gathering up the sunlight and driving it into the nosferatu.

On its knees, the thing convulsed in choking coughs. It gagged up a great gout of black blood onto the floor before it, which hissed into the stone and corroded it. Flesh peeled away from the body, burning and steaming, its fluids vaporizing in wisps of acrid, stinking mist.

Niall stood over the decomposing remnants of the nosferatu and chanted in Gaelic-Sperethiel. It wasn't a dialect Serrin knew, but he spoke the basic elven tongue well enough to understand the gist. The elf was committing the remains of the soul to the Great Shining Spirits, calling on their protection and righteousness, calling down retribution on the soul, weaving gleaming chains of karma in which to bind it for many lives to come.

The remains of the body shuddered in one last great heave and then lay still on its side. Only the skull and the great bones of the physical body remained within the ragged ruins of its clothes. Niall took a silver dagger from his jacket and drove it into the septum. The skull melted like butter where he struck it and then split in two. An appalling howl echoed around them before fading into an endless distance far above.

Serrin's gaze was still fixed, stupefied, on Niall's power, when his body registered that he was no longer controlled. He fell forward, unable to stop himself, not an ounce of strength left. He rolled helplessly, ended up lying alongside Kristen, looking up at Tom.

The troll was on his feet. The huge elven spirit was holding him, its arm around the troll's great chest. Tom's eyes and those of the spirit were locked in a lover's embrace. Warm tears streamed down the troll's face and he closed his eyes.

He couldn't remain upright without the help of the spirit at first, the strength from the implants lost to him, until life and growth poured into the once-ruined meat body. From being like a child, helpless and unable to stand, Tom felt energy, growth, every joyful and wonderful thing about being alive stream through his body, heart, and soul. The dead and pain-filled places inside flaked away as the metal in the meat had done when the spirit had poured into and through him. For an instant, he saw the face of Bear on the spirit and felt the huge paws around him. It was like being reborn a second time.

Serrin's hand twitched. Somehow, he managed to find Kristen's and hung on to it for dear life. Then NialFs hands were on them both, healing and cooling, and they felt some semblance of strength returning to their bodies.

Serrin managed to get to his knees and look up at Niall. He wanted to say something, anything, but where could he find the words? He just squatted with his tongue rolling around inside his mouth. He couldn't have spoken even if someone had ordered him at gunpoint.

He didn't see the elf then. Kristen was on him, hugging him hard, kissing his face. She took his head in her hands and kissed him hard on the mouth.

"I think we should go," the elf said.

None of them could think about anything else as they made their way from the ruins. The effort of putting one foot in front of the other was great enough to demand every ounce of attention and willpower they had. Led by Niall and Mathanas, they somehow managed to negotiate the forest quicker than they'd ever have been able to on their own. Spirit power, Serrin managed to reflect. Movement. The spirit is altering the terrain.

It seemed ridiculously incongruous when Niall opened the door of the car. Cars belonged to the real world. They weren't ready to return to it yet. Tom sat in the front, rocking himself slightly to and fro.