The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) Read online

  Peshil only knew that Jav was gone after being run through by a laser of his creation. His snout curved up on one side in a terrible grin, revealing great palisade fangs of light, only slightly differentiated from the rest of him by shadowed outlines. He was wholly unprepared for the blow to his head that toppled him.

  “The appearance of light, but not light,” Jav said, floating back and down from having delivered the Kaiser Kick, another technique he’d developed and practiced with Furst.

  Peshil pushed himself up off the cavern floor with both arms. “You have the appearance of death, and may very well be death,” Peshil said rising. “But you’ll not kill me in my own nest.” Peshil stood and aimed both of his arms at the crystal in the center of the room. His arms instantly stretched to become light, his whole body transforming and following behind as if pulled. This light filled the crystal, split into thousands of rays to be dispersed through as many facets across the crystal’s surface, and then reflected back from the faceted walls. The interior of the chamber became an impassible lattice of laser light, with each of the branching tunnels receiving a beam exactly down its middle. Hilene was in no danger. Jav anticipated a number of incoming beams, dodged physically, used the Ghost Kaiser twice, but was finally struck in the back and knocked to the floor.

  As Jav regained his feet, his back smoking, the light congregated to reform Peshil. Peshil eyed Hilene, then Jav, then shot bodily as a beam of light once more, but this time through one of the tunnels.

  Hilene approached the central crystal, her HMD lighting up to mark her target as she drove her spear hand into it, into the precise spot that would cause optimal fracture. The crystal shattered into a million tiny fragments.

  “I think we’re done here,” Jav said. He ordered the remaining skeletons out of the castle and stood at the mouth of the tunnel from which they had originally come. He wasn’t worried about Hilene, but told her to join him anyway. He then proceeded to use AI to bring the roof of the cavern down to within a meter of the floor and exceeded infinity. With AI, space was relative, could be reduced as well as expanded. While Jav could bring the roof and the floor together, this had no actual affect on the stone structure supporting the roof. When he exceeded infinity, the roof was where he had put it but it was also still attached to its support. The immeasurable pressure required to actually bring the roof down was real for that instant when he exceeded infinity, though, and so great cracks raced around the room and the roof collapsed, an immense disk, several meters thick, that skidded down the chamber walls, crumbling only as irregularities caused sudden stops and upsets.

  1.2 TENTATIVE ALLIES

  10,735.222

  Gim Peshil streaked across the red sky, a fat wash of light, safe for the time being while in transit, but scared for his life nonetheless. His mind scrambled in a hundred different directions, but he knew where he was going. With his two greatest allies dead, only Sera Fontessa would give him sanctuary, and that was likely only temporary. She’d shown him favor once. He tried to forget that she showed everyone favor, at least for a time, and usually for a price. He had no choice, of course. She had connections to Kels Ansrath, whose powers would be necessary. First to Fontessa’s, but in the back of mind, he knew that, eventually, a much more terrible destination awaited him. Ansrath would be good for a start, and perhaps Fontessa herself would be of use, but in the end, with the fate of Thrax Palonis at stake, he would have to travel to the other side of the world and plead with Chan Fa, the Everliving, for help.

  There were so many stories surrounding Chan Fa, the oldest and most horrible of the Shields, of how he’d killed and eaten every other Shield who’d opposed him. None of these tales could be confirmed, and few in recent years had even laid eyes on him, but all children grew up with the fear of Chan Fa seizing them in his jaws if they misbehaved. This was silly, and Peshil had never heard of any child actually suffering such a fate, but Chan Fa was real, or had been.

  Fontessa’s territory was submerged in the cloud sea now. The moisture would slow Peshil’s progress substantially, but it couldn’t be helped. Almost as soon as he entered into the liquid storm front he was hailed from below.

  “Gim Peshil, Light Smith! In the name of my mistress, Sera Fontessa, I command you to halt. You could pass me, but if you have designs upon my mistress’s abode, I have the means to warn her before your arrival and you would be met as an intruder. Halt and obey the laws of Sera Fontessa’s territory!”

  Peshil gathered himself into his dragon form and descended grudgingly towards the mushroom wood watch tower until he was eye to eye with the man inside.

  “I don’t have time to observe protocol. Who are you anyway, that can speak the way you have to a Shield?”

  “Apologies, Gim Peshil. I too, am a Shield. I daresay some mutual respect is in order. It is in Sera Fontessa’s territory you now find yourself, and I, Ernis Rahm, am her appointed representative.”

  “You? A Shield?” Peshil snorted. “What is your title then, Ernis Rahm?”

  “I-I have no title.”

  Through the wet gloom, Peshil eyed carefully the unremarkable man before him and then recalled that Fontessa employed a number of artificial Shields. These had been created by a Shield whose name and title he could not now remember. None of these creations had power beyond transformation, but an idea occurred to Peshil that turned his stomach even as it stirred the excitement of hope within his breast.

  “Show me then. Let us meet as equals if I am to treat you as such,” Peshil said, backing away to give the man room.

  The image shot forth from Rahm’s brow, giving birth to a dragon, twenty meters tall, covered in dull green scales. Its wings beat to keep it afloat before Peshil.

  “Are all her outposts manned as this one is?” Peshil said.

  “If you mean with Shields, yes.”

  Peshil nodded. “Still not equal, I’m afraid.” Peshil’s head lanced forward, narrowing into a beam and driving a channel between Rahm’s eyes and out through the back of his head. His head returned, and he gripped Rahm, already dead, in both arms, easing them both to the wet ground where he proceeded to devour the artificial Shield.

  • • •

  Inside Ernis Rahm’s watchtower was a crude map of Sera Fontessa’s territory. Peshil was already familiar with her borders, but the map showed the locations of five other watchtowers, which he sought out and proceeded to plunder. After consuming the fourth artificial Shield, he’d begun to feel heavy and lethargic, but not nearly as much as he should have, considering the volume of meat he’d put into his belly. He wondered if this was because the Shields were artificial or if it was because he’d really only consumed a volume equal to five men instead of five twenty-meter-tall dragons. He thought that his mass had increased, and not just around his middle. His vantage point, when standing erect, seemed further from the ground.

  It wasn’t difficult to dupe the final Shield out of his life. When Peshil was finished, a mere three hours had passed since he’d arrived at the first watchtower. He made the circuit back to this, his point of entry into Fontessa’s territory, and continued on towards Fontessa’s castle, ready to lie about the whereabouts of her sentries. He’d left no evidence, and few were qualified to accuse him, especially during cloud sea, of roaming Fontessa’s border and having his way.

  Preoccupation with his feasting and the strange, active lack of moral outrage—and perhaps mild intoxication?—had managed to dull his initial sense of urgency regarding the invaders. He prepared himself mentally to present as frantic a case as possible to Fontessa. Fontessa would expect this. If the issue of her sentries came up, he could claim that the invaders were responsible, and this could only help to increase the anxiety he wished to inspire.

  He did feel a little drunk and certainly more confident than before that they would be able to turn back the invaders. Still, making the case—convincing Shields to work together, that there could be threats other than other Shields—would require drama.

&
nbsp; The outline of Fontessa’s castle became faintly visible in the standing murk of the cloud sea. It looked much like his own castle, like those of every other Shield, he imagined, though it was, he knew, unique. He hovered before the main gate on great beating wings of solid light and called for the mistress.

  “Sera Fontessa, Mist Dancer! I, Gim Peshil, the Light Smith, request an audience!”

  After a few minutes, gears within the castle walls began to clink and the main gates swung open. A man Peshil recognized—a Shield and this one not artificial—stood at the head of a group of armed soldiers. Though Peshil had had his own contingent of men, he realized now, after his had been so easily co-opted, how superfluous they were. They meant nothing to a Shield. And oppositely, a lone Shield could defend this or any other castle indefinitely from any invading force not consisting of other Shields. A show of rank, of opulence, was all the men really amounted to.

  “What brings you here, Gim Peshil, Light Smith?”

  As the Shield below hailed him, Peshil’s stomach growled. Peshil ignored this even as he acknowledged, without the slightest trace of distaste, the implications. He resumed his human form and bowed before Karsten Rolst, the Red Lance, as was proper for a Shield from a visiting territory, even if he was of higher rank.

  “I bring terrible news, Karsten Rolst,” Peshil said. “We are all in danger, Thrax Palonis is in danger of falling to invaders from out of the sky.”

  “Calm yourself, Gim Peshil. I will conduct you to the mistress.”

  Peshil nodded, affecting nervousness, and followed Rolst into the castle’s interior.

  • • •

  Peshil had been in Fontessa’s receiving hall before, but he was always surprised anew by the lavish mushroom wood furnishings, the tapestries of thick silk that lined the walls, and the endless coupling that took place upon the soft couches spread throughout the chamber. Truly, one of her many talents was her ability to display opulence. Electric lights lit the chamber so brightly that it was easy to forget that they were in the heart of a giant volcanic rock formation in the middle of the night during cloud sea.

  Sera Fontessa sat in a great, cushioned lounge at the head of the chamber where she could watch all that transpired here. Peshil felt adolescent clumsiness descend upon him like a physical weight as it always did when he was in her presence. Her skin was dark, given more to ebony than bronze, and her breasts were some of the most magnificent Peshil had ever seen, always peaking through her hair, which fell in lank waves of glossy obsidian. Her attention seemed a prisoner of the various carnal acts before her. She showed no shame. She simply stared with her full, moist lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed, so that she shone with a raw, wanton glow.

  “Come and sit, Gim Peshil,” Fontessa said, in her deep, syrupy voice. “Enjoy the show with me. Who knows what may happen?”

  Peshil glanced briefly at Rolst before stepping to join Fontessa upon the lounge, where she shifted to make room for him.

  “Strange that I did not have earlier word of your coming,” she said, not taking her eyes off of the coupling immediately before her. “Though, I suppose cloud sea and the hour may be reason enough.”

  He was having difficulty maintaining the correct amount of faux composure over faux panic. He realized then that something inside him had indeed changed. Besides the real anxiety of invasion—with which he was coping rather well, he thought—the petty adolescent awe he expected to experience when face to face with Fontessa melted away as soon as he sat down beside her. He bent down close to her and spoke in a low voice, in a tone that was proof against mockery.

  “Sera Fontessa, Thrax Palonis is under threat. Earlier this evening, invaders from the sky, some of them giants, some riding giant beasts, arrived in my territory. One smashed in Jus Ordan’s face with the back of his hand. Another, a machine perhaps, penetrated Baro Suunts’s hide and killed him from within. Two alone then proceeded to attack me in my own castle, and in spite of the full power of the Light, drove me from my home. I have come here to warn you. I have come here to request your aid. You may believe or disbelieve as you will, but they have promised to take Thrax Palonis for their own.”

  “Are you mad, Gim Pehsil? Did you come to me at this hour simply to inform me of your madness?”

  Peshil stood, realizing that, though he’d hoped and intended to stay at least a day or two, he was done here. “As I said, you may do what you will with my warning. I came to you first because we have been… friends. What approaches requires the attention of every Shield on Thrax Palonis, but above all, it requires the attention of Chan Fa, the Everliving.” Peshil started back across the chamber the way he had come. “Good night to you, Sera Fontessa,” he said over his shoulder. “I hope that you and your territory fair better than me and mine.”

  “Wait!” she cried, clearly moved by his demeanor. “Gim Peshil, I have never seen you so sober with news so dire. You have convinced me that you do not lie, that this is no elaborate ploy.”

  Peshil paused and turned to face her again.

  She swallowed hard and Peshil marveled at how much she looked like a child to him now. “I have ever been friendly with Kels Ansrath, the Iron Weapon. And I may be able to win over Toth Talpas, the Gold Fount, as well. Surely the four of us would be sufficient…”

  Peshil narrowed his eyes. “Let me show you, my dear, the scope and scale of what we are up against. Peshil pointed towards a whitish silk hanging on one wall and projected light against it, showing the image of an olive-green cable hanging from the sky.

  “You know the size of those rock plates,” Peshil said. “You can see how massive this alien thing is. Even if we were to eradicate its agents, Thrax Palonis has been infected. Can we—any of us—afford not to meet this threat with anything less than the full might of our world?”

  She nodded. She had never seen him like this and was humbled by his command and his passion, both of which seemed new, brought about by this epic challenge perhaps. “You are fastest among us, Gim Peshil. Fly to Chan Fa, but be safe. His temperament is volatile, and he is dangerous. This is the commonly-held belief, but trust me when I tell you that it is also the truth.”

  Peshil thought he could see a memory, dark and painful, swimming just below the surface of Fontessa’s bright green eyes.

  “If he threatens you, even slightly,” she continued, “you must promise to use your speed and return here immediately.”

  Peshil grinned. What an interesting change in her. “Of course, Sera Fontessa. Then shall we congregate here to plan our defense of Thrax Palonis?”

  “Yes. I will gather as many Shields as possible. Let us meet back here in three days.”

  “Three days? You are confident in your persuasive skills.”

  “I am,” she said smiling. “I have the means to contact Kels Ansrath quickly. Toth Talpas, may take a bit more time.” She shrugged. “Even if you convince Chan Fan, though, it is far to the other side of Thrax Palonis. It will take him at least twice as many days to reach here.”

  “Depending on his disposition, that may work to our favor.”

  She stared at him for a long moment then. “You are different, Gim Peshil. This event has changed you, and for the better, I say. Come back safely.”

  “I will.” With no more discussion, Peshil strode from the reception hall without escort. Rolst glanced between Peshil and his mistress, but Fontessa only shook her head, smiling vacantly.

  • • •

  Unlike any of his fellows, Gim Peshil could reach Chan Fa’s territory on the other side of Thrax Palonis in seconds. He was beholden to no one and felt very good right now in spite of the looming alien threat. He felt that he could have his pick of territories if he wanted them, but challenging high-ranking Shields right now would likely result in an endeavor too lengthy and too public. He was hungry, though, and thought that he—and their cause—might benefit from at least one more feeding. This time, perhaps a true Shield would be in order. No one of note, just some low-rankin
g retainer.

  Peshil slowed as he approached Bek Ialo’s diminutive castle. If he recalled correctly, Ialo had one lieutenant which might do nicely. Bek Ialo, the Shadow Thief, could steal anything except another Shield’s source, so Peshil was in no danger, discovered or not. In fact, Ialo himself might make for a quick and easy target. His territory was small, he had few followers, and a comparison of abilities definitely favored Peshil. Peshil could be through Ialo’s entire castle, find him, kill him, and consume him in less than half an hour.

  He flashed into Ialo’s castle, did an exhaustive search, since this was his first time inside, and finally came across a very strange site. Ialo, still in his dragon form, lay dead in a dried sea of his own blood at the base of his piles and piles of treasure. His eyes had been ruined, not exactly like Baro Suunts’s had, and he had bled copiously from one ear. Peshil smelled no rot or decay, which was even more surprising than finding Ialo dead. Peshil reached out a tentative claw of solid light and rolled Ialo’s corpse over onto its back. He started slightly at the cored breast and the jellied organ at the center of the expanse of dried blood on the floor.

  Could the invaders have gotten to Ialo? Was that possible? He supposed it was, but what really concerned him was whether or not Ialo would still make for a good meal.

  With several furtive glances, Peshil lowered his head down close to Ialo and took his first bite.

  • • •

  There’d been no sign of Ialo’s lieutenant which worked out for the best. Peshil had finished with Ialo quickly, his corpse having taken on an unusual consistency, something akin to spun sugar with none of the sweetness. The meal had left him thoroughly intoxicated, though, and interaction with a Shield of any grade would have been a spectacle and an embarrassment. His head cleared after an hour, and he resumed his journey to Chan Fa’s, noting that the town below Ialo’s castle was still populated, which spoke against Ialo being killed by the invaders. Peshil shrugged this off and focused on getting to his destination with a clear head.