Chapter 18: Shadows of the Past

“So what you’re telling me,” Drifter said slowly, as if unsure of himself, “is that you, the Volka council, are the ones who created the Greenspark fire and unleashed it on my world.”

Flemming nodded to the questioner beside him, who smiled back. “That sums it up nicely.”

“And you built this weapon to destroy the people and life of a planet, entirely. My world was just a test, which it failed because some of us survived.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“So to finish the explanation off.” Drifter uncurled his right hand and gazed at the relic inside the palm as if unconcerned. “You were playing a game with us. All those people dead, the cities and landscapes destroyed. Just a test.”

“Well now,” the councilman blustered, “I wouldn’t say--”

“But I would.” Drifter’s eyes came up, gleaming with an odd light like a sickly fire. The hairs on the Volka council members’ necks stood up as they heard the edge of the scorch in his voice. It was there, like a tangible thing in the room.

“Weapons of mass destruction. Fire rained on comparatively innocent people. Death, pain...the scorch.” Drifter closed his eyes for a brief moment. “By the powers given to me by the Akarnan. By the bond between the Beasts of Dark and Drifter. By every scorched soul in Apex, I condemn you. The sentence is Death.”

Power coursed through the blue stone in his robotic hand, making it glow like an evil eye. Flame and energy soaked the room, blasting almost every living being within it. The screens cracked, the guards melted in their suits. Blue beams swept the desk until it stood scorched and blackened. The walls bore the marks of the flames like swirling, psychedelic ornaments. Because the room was soundproof, the guards outside did not even know what was happening. Eventually, only Drifter stood, gasping and holding his right arm as if to keep it back from more destruction.

A pile of ashes sat where the council members had been. Their tablets and their lives were forfeit. The room had been scorched like an Apex survivor’s soul.

Tears marred the toughened, soot-stained skin of Drifter’s face. Still holding his own wrist in bondage, he straightened and staggered towards the arch with the gate set in it. Weariness made him stumble at every step, and moisture blinded his eyes.

The black stone was cracking from where he had hit it with power. Smoke swirled around him as he jerked the door open and staggered through. Behind him, it crumbled into a pile of useless pieces.

---

The night was clear and cold. Loran lay along the bench in the car, head resting on one door by the window, feet curled next to the opposite. The young men, Bard and Jeroam, had put up a shelter next to Elisha’s truck so that everyone would be less cramped. The shelter was made of a large piece of canvas, stretched from the side of the truck down to the ground, where it was weighed with rocks to hold it in place. They had enjoyed themselves putting it up and settling down to sleep. Loran had heard their chatting and laughter from inside the car on the other side of the truck. It gave her a small smile, two boys having fun despite the ruins and wreckage around them. It promised well for the future of Apex. Especially if they found a pair of like-minded young women to join them...

But it was not their jollity which kept Loran from sleeping. That had long since ceased, leaving a peaceful quiet on the little camp. Something was weighing on the woman’s mind. She did not know what it was. Perhaps the fact that, in the morning, they would be delving into the secrets she had been hunting down for so long. That would explain the thrill of quiet excitement she felt. But it did not give her satisfaction about the longing on her mind.

Sitting up, she ran a hand across her eyes. There did not seem to be any sleep in her tonight. She felt alert, awake and drawn.

“Trusting my intuition has saved me before,” Loran sighed, opening the door of the car. Outside, the air was cool, touching her cheek with its frosty fingers. She stood just outside of the car for a moment, running her eyes over the horizon. Black buildings looming, hazy stars in the sky. A pale moon shed a touch of grayish luminescence on the world. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Carefully, Loran closed the door of the car. She did not want to awake anyone else with her insomnia. With a small shrug of her shoulders, she walked over to the path leading up the hill and started along it. The only sounds were the distant cheeping of some insects and the light swish of her skirt, coupled with the tap of her shoes on cement. Everything had a repressed, distant sound to it, as if the whole world were waiting on some chance discovery. Once or twice, Loran thought she saw red eyes gleaming at her from the dark. But nothing came of it and she told herself not to be so jumpy.

The buildings at the top of the hill loomed up, marking the place where she could cross the fence. Careful not to stumble in the dark, she made her way over it. On the other side of the buildings stood the gate.

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It was dark, blacker than anything else in view. The moonlight barely touched glints of gray from its arch. The interior seemed like a hole into utter blackness. It was not simply void of light. It absorbed the light around it. Only the tiny glinting lines of the machine’s rails on the inner face of the door broke up the shadows.

Wondering what had called her to this place, Loran moved to stand in front of the Gate. Mystery breathed out of it at her.

“Loran.”

The voice chilled her blood. Turning slowly, Loran perceived a figure standing next to the arch. She wondered for the first time in her life if ghosts were real. Hood shading his face, hand outstretched with a Charwing sitting on the fist, was Drifter. His form and way of standing, with pale eyes just glittering in the moonlight, were unmistakable.

“Drifter.” Loran finally took breath. Stepping towards him, she saw that he was not thin or ephemeral in the least. His clothes, at least, appeared to be made of reality. The only odd thing about him was that his right hand gleamed a little, as if he were wearing a gauntlet of steel.

“Yes. I made it back.” Drifter shrugged a shoulder at the Gate, making the bird on his hand caw, taking to the wing. It disappeared into the night. “From in there.”

“I--we thought you were dead.”

There was a hint of shadowed smile in his voice as he returned, “I was. In all but mind. The phantoms brought me back.”

“Phantoms. You met phantoms in there? What is this gate?”

Drifter shifted and sighed. “It’s a portal to a mysterious hall, giving access to different dimensions. No--don’t interrupt. I don’t understand it much more than you do. The doors in it lead not only to other planets or far away places, but to other universes much like ours. Just separated by walls of...I don’t know. Invisible energy. I was taken to one and found out the truth about the Greenspark.”

“It was launched from this machine.” Loran gestured at the Gate.

“I know. You were right. I should have listened. It’s not the end of the world. The Greenspark was not the apocalypse at all. It was just someone’s test of a terrible weapon. You were right all along.”

Loran shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain it all, in time.” Drifter moved to lean against the arch of the gate, drawing in a breath as if weary. He flexed his right hand in a strip of moonlight, making the metal glitter.

“I learned about the relics and phantoms as well. They are connected, as you said. The phantoms made the relics and put them in our world. They thought we needed a little magic. And they took me captive to prove it.”

Loran stood, head bowed in thought. “That is why I’ve had you in my thoughts. Images of you trapped somewhere...with electric lights and gray walls.”

Drifter nodded, agreeing with her picture. “I escaped that dimension and destroyed the door to it, so that we would not become guinea pigs for their weapons again.”

He shook his hooded head slowly from side to side. “I’ve seen another world now, Loran. One not touched by the scorch. And I know there are others out there. Many others. But I must be suited to this one, because I don’t want to leave it again. I want to go back to roving in the ruins. And I want you to come with me.”

The woman drew in a quick breath, surprised. “Oh, but I can’t. I called Elisha and Jeroam to help inspect the machine. We’re going to explore the passages with Bard. Who knows what we’ll find and learn in there. Secrets and powers beyond what we have been given in this realm. And the boys are keen to learn. Bard and Jeroam, that is. I’m glad Bard is finally fitting in somewhere. I don’t want to leave them stranded, without my help.”

Her words seemed uncertain, though she tried to put her usual stern coldness into them.

Drifter stepped forward with one of his sudden moves to stand in front of her. “They sound like they will do fine without you. Bard has a good heart, even if he still has much to learn. We can leave them a message explaining some things, so that they won’t go into other dimensions blind. But I’ve seen another world now and know that there aren’t any out there that are actually better than this. People are just as cruel and perhaps more conniving in other dimensions. I’d rather have my freedom here, than all the mysterious powers of another dimension and the chains to go with it.”

He paused for a moment, seeming to listen to the night, before he finished, “I can survive here better than most, make a living where others die. And, Loran...I want you with me. Will you come?”

Loran only hesitated a few seconds more, looking from the Gate to him, before she put her hand on his arm and bowed her head.

“Yes.”

---

Bard’s sleep was troubled in the middle of the night. He thought he heard the sound of the car start up and leave silently, but then dismissed it, as there were no headlights. Turning over, he fell back asleep, dreaming of the day to come.

When he awoke, he sat up with a start, hearing voices outside and seeing red sunlight creep in the flap of their shelter. Jeroam was already gone, so he got up and hurried out. Elisha and the young man were standing in the patch of gravel where the car had been. Its tire tracks could be seen, disturbing the gray pebbles where it had been. The tracks disappeared into the pavement of the street.

“What happened?” Bard looked around, blinking away sleep. “Where is Loran?”

Elisha looked grim. “That is the strangest thing, lad. Seems she’s run off with a ghost.”

Bard held up his hand with a jerk of surprise to take the folded bit of paper which Elisha proffered. It was a message, written in a hand he did not recognize. But how the words were put together seemed oddly familiar.

‘The Gate leads to other dimensions, one through each door. Be careful. I’ve discovered who launched the Greenspark. It was only a test to see if we would survive. Since we did, the world-destroying weapon was a failure. But those people will not be using the passages again. I’m alive and heading back into the city. Loran is going with me. Have fun with the Gate.’

It was signed, 'Drifter’.