Titans of Chaos Read online

  "Hey!" I said. "I am not done yelling at you-! Bloody git! How dare you kiss me-!"

  The doors opened and rain splashed down, and the laws of nature of Earth, including such things as momentum, must have splashed into the room as well, because suddenly we were shaken and pressed against the mattress by some wild acceleration, as if the ship were doing an Im-melman.

  I could see Colin in the splash of silvery light from the deck. The laws of momentum were not affecting him. I suppose he could stand upright in a roller coaster doing a loop-the-loop, without getting his hair mussed, if he were inspired.

  I saw the flash of teeth from his devil-may-care-but-Colin-does-not grin, and heard the chuckle in his voice: "There now, lass. Keep yourself simmering for me. I'll be back to claim my reward when I'm done knocking heads together."

  And he jumped, in one leap, fifteen feet or more in the air, straight up and out of the hold. It did not look like a jump. It looked like a superhero taking off, or warrior angel taking wing, rushing to fight with the rebel angels.

  (What am I saying? Colin Iblis mac FirBolg would be fighting alongside the fallen angels, not against them.)

  Fight and Flight by Sea

  The battle was exciting for everyone but me. It was over before I did anything; not that I mind not being exposed to more danger, thank you. Staring into the eyes of Echidna might not seem like much compared to what else the others did during those next ten minutes, but it was enough for me, that day.

  Our Silvery Ship came upon (and sped past) the lifeboat containing Victor and Quentin in the waters of Earth. They had rowed to outside the ward, and their powers had come back on.

  There were black ships burning to every side of Victor. I think he was precipitating pure oxygen out of the atmosphere or up from the water, and gathering trace amounts of phosphorous together from the glowing lamps of the undersea torches carried by the Atlanteans to make an incendiary. There was apparently enough chlorophyll in the plankton for him to make chlorine gas, and streamers of poison were issuing from the boiling water around him, green and horrid in the light of the burning ships. The trace chemicals in the enemy ornaments and weapons had been disintegrated out and recombined to make toxins and acids.

  Despite all this, I did not see the moral energy snarls one would expect to see from committing murder. The Atlanteans were staying well away from the areas of water frothing with poison, and it looked as if the Laestrygonians aboard the burning ships were immune to fire. All this visible horror and destruction Victor was shedding was distraction. His real attack were groups of small molecular packages distributed widely over the area, which, if inhaled, influenced the central nervous system to send panic and fear signals to the brain, release adrenaline, cause selective shutdowns in the cortex and higher-reasoning centers. Apparently, there was a mechanical cause for determining which way a flight/fight reaction would go, and he was setting it to "flight."

  Quentin was invisible-in all this confusion, he still was carrying the ring of Gyges, which Colin had handed him to perform his astronomy experiments. I never saw what he did, and he did not talk about it later, but I do not think he was simply hiding and letting Victor do all the work. Once or twice I saw a shadow moving on the black ships, silhouetted by the flames Victor was spreading, and it bent over any Laestrygonian whose helmet contained more plumes than the others. Those to whom the shadow spoke did not look at it, but cast their weapons away and jumped into the sea. Every time I tried to look at the shadow, my higher sense bent away, and I lost sight of it.

  And Colin-it really was a good day for Colin. He picked up the first Atlantean he came across by the legs and used him like a baseball bat to knock the others reeling. They shot arrows into his arms and legs and he just laughed and ignored them, plucking them out and wiping away the red ink from his untouched limbs. They threw nets on him and he threw them back; they belabored him with truncheons and he plucked the staves from their hands and broke them over his knee. He was like one of those absurd characters from Irish folklore who doesn't need armor, cannot be hurt, and can toss around trained soldiers like dolls. He threw them off the ship one after another, shouting out my name each time he made a throw. I had become his battle cry.

  They were not trying to kill him, and he returned the favor. Tossing Atlanteans into the water would not drown them; they were amphibious. I do not think he ever broke any limbs, except on people whom he recognized as having climbed back up the gunwales more than once.

  Colin got his hands on the commander of the squad, or, at least, an Atlantean with nicer looking blue-and-green scale mail than the rest, and was holding him up in midair, shaking him by the throat, shouting at him.

  Storm-winds and thunder crashed all around him as he paced the reeling, rain-washed deck, hauling the struggling man toward the rail. Then Colin mounted the prow, dangling the man over the water, shouting again at him.

  This time, the thunder was less, and I heard what the shouts were about. Was it something like, Call off your men? No. Nothing so sensible.

  "WHO IS THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD? SAY IT! SAY IT! SAY THE NAME I TOLD

  YOU TO SAY!"

  "A-Amelia! Amelia Windrose!"

  "PRETTIER THAN YOUR GIRL?"

  "Ye-yes sir! Much prettier!"

  "GOD BLESS YOU FOR AN HONEST MAN!" roared Colin over the storm. "YOU GET TO

  LIVE!" And he threw the man headlong into the raging sea, a hundred yards if it was an inch.

  How sweet. I mean, really. It was sweet.

  If you are wondering why, during all this, the Atlanteans and Laestrygonians did not unleash horrific magic upon us all, or blast us with space-age weapons from some futuristic parallel dimension, or even unlimber their deck-guns and blow a hole into our ship, the reason (as far as I can tell) is that Vanity saved us.

  The Silvery Ship was skipping like a wild dolphin from wave-crest to wave-crest, and the sleek black ships were darting like dark sharks in her wake. But the moment we crossed the invisible line (invisible to all but me) separating the waters of the other sphere from the waters of Earth, the ward blocking our powers was crossed, and the green stone hanging around Vanity's neck began to glow. It was beneath her shirt, and only I saw it, I, whose vision was not stopped by merely three-dimensional surfaces.

  It was glowing when she and I, wrapped in Colin's arms, fell through her secret trapdoor and landed on that mattress. It was glowing when Colin tried to molest her and she slapped him, and he went bounding like a super ninja movie hero on wires up out of the hold to battle the Atlanteans.

  Before another word was spoken, Vanity, without bothering to stir from the mattress, clasped both hands to her bosom and bent her head, concentrating. The Silvery Ship skipped back across the ward, shutting down my powers; I went blind. I could hear the noise of rushing waters, and felt the bucking and leaping of the deck beneath me, and that was all.

  Then, on again. The Silvery Ship was once more in the waters of Earth, and our pursuit, streaming fans of spray rushing from them as they passed the speed of sound, came bearing down on us. But, at the moment, the ward was between them and us. They were still in the waters of the other place.

  Vanity did something. I saw lines of energy fold and sway; the intersection of the two universes quivered. Beyond that, I was not sure what it was she did.

  Vanity said, "When they cross, their powers will shut off. I just did to them what Echidna showed me how to do."

  "Will it slow down their ships... ?"

  "I cannot do that without slowing down this one. I can make the gunpowder forget how to burn when it crosses from one jurisdiction to the next."

  "How?"

  "It is all based on attention. I can feel something look us over when we cross the line. It is something that makes objects act the way they are supposed to. The something gets confused when you cross things from one jurisdiction to another. It does not know which laws to apply.

  During that moment of confusion, I can make the decision for
it."

  "Jurisdiction... ?"

  "Um. Dreamscapes? Universes? What do you call a set of laws of nature?"

  "Continuum. Can't the Atlanteans do the same thing?"

  "If they have a stone like this, I suppose. And they would have to get in the first shot. Watch me.

  Did it work?"

  "I can't tell. What am I looking for?"

  "Are the bad guys using guns or casting spells?"

  "No." I peered through the walls. I could see Colin and Quentin in the distance.

  "Then it worked. Do you think they can beat us just with normal weapons?"

  Guess what the answer to that one was.

  Five minutes later, we were all up on deck. Victor dropped down out of the sky, his chain mail crackling with ozone, and Quentin faded into view, twisting the gold ring on his finger. The storm was behind us, slowly shrinking backwards over the horizon, and we were skimming along the water surface under the moonlight.

  Off our port and starboard stern, like arrows with fletch-ing made of white foam, came the black ships of the Atlanteans.

  Colin said, "They are gaining, Leader. I suggest we let them catch up and we trash more of them." He was panting and shining with sweat and rainwater, happy as a player who has crushed an opposing team after a hard game. His eyes danced. He needed only a bottle of champagne to pour over his head to make the picture complete.

  Even Victor seemed in good spirits. He stood on the stem, hands clasped behind him, watching the moonlit pursuit with a tiny smile on his lips. "Leader, I suggest not. We must assume that Mavors the god of war is somewhere among them, and we have no experience to tell us how to overcome his powers."

  Quentin was leaning on his white staff, his dark cloak flapping and folding around him in the sea-wind like the wings of a bird of shadow. He spoke without raising his head, "Leader, our defeat is inevitable. I have seen the signs. When I was in the air, in the storm cloud, one of the thunder-children turned and spoke to me. Lord Mavors can control fate. There will be ships ahead of us, no matter which way we turn."

  As if his words had summoned them, tall black triangles appeared on the horizon ahead, the mountain-shaped barges of the war-god. Dimly, in the moonlight, I thought I saw rippling trails of white foam issuing from ports along their bases, the slim black ships of the Laestrygonians cutting like torpedoes through the waves.

  I sat down on the bench at the stern of the ship with my elbows on my knees and my fingers slowly massaging my temples.

  Think, Amelia, think. It is like a game, like a puzzle. There are certain moves you can make, and certain moves your opponent, Mavors, can make. Unfortunately, one of the moves he could make was something like bribe the judges of the contest to fix the outcome no matter what you do.

  I said, "Idea number one: If Mavors is controlling fate by means of something, a little 'bad luck elf named Murphy or something, then Murphy has to see or sense us to do his dirty work, right?

  Maybe a combination of Vanity's powers and the ring of Gyges can deflect whatever sense impression Murphy is using to zero in on us."

  Quentin said, half to himself, "I suspect Murphy's real name is Clotho, Atropos, or Lachesis."

  "Idea number two: You all grab hold of me and I step into the fourth dimension."

  Colin said, "Dark Mistress, idea number one is much better than idea number two. When you step into your 'fourth dimension,' you are only creating an illusion, and you haven't really gone anywhere. If he has got anyone like me among his staff, he can just penetrate the illusion."

  I said, "Grendel's dead."

  "Maybe. But if a low-level god like Boreas can have a psychic on his staff, are you telling me the God of Strategy and Winning Battles is not smart enough to go find someone who can trump your powers when he is setting out to hunt you down? Come on. Seriously, guys. All these gods must travel in packs of four, just like Boggin and his four flunkies. Jeez, even if he can't get Grendel, don't you think he can get a recording of Miss Daw's music?"

  Victor said, "Leader, we have to assume the enemy has taken reasonable steps in calculating their tactics."

  He still had that look of good humor on his face. Now I knew why he was wearing it: because he was not leader, and he did not have to make decisions in the no-win situations. Bastard.

  I looked out at the ships. Closer now. Coming as fast as the fastest bird can fly-faster, even.

  I said, "Idea number three: We put the ring of Gyges on the ship, like stick it on the mast or something, and turn the whole darn ship invisible."

  Victor said, "Might work. But the same objection as to number two applies. If Mavors has any cyclopes aboard, they might not be fooled by mere magic."

  Colin said, "Even you have trouble seeing through this ring, Vicky-boy."

  Victor nodded. "But I am young and new at this, Collie-boy. It might work, though, if Amelia floated this ship into the so-called fourth dimension at the same time, which might confuse cyclopean detection powers."

  Black ships astern slightly closer. Black ships ahead very much closer, eating up the miles.

  I said, "Idea number four: Vanity zaps them with her power, so that those ships are not sailing through dream-waters, but suddenly find themselves traveling at the speed of sound in wooden ships in the waters of Earth. Momentum kicks in. They wreck."

  Vanity said, "I cannot do that without having it happen to us. We'd have to slow down to Earth-speed first I mean, I can do it, I think I can do it, because there is a boundary around the railing of each ship. But I do not think I can do it unevenly. That's why Grendel's mom could not turn off Colin's power. Hey-you know what I just thought? Phaeacian powers must be something you can learn, or get, because people like Boggin and Echidna have them- Oops! Damn." Vanity jumped as if a bug had stung her.

  Echidna could hear when her name was spoken, as Vanity had just reminded Colin.

  Victor said dryly to a chagrined Vanity, "I thought we agreed to call her 'the fishmonger.'"

  I said, "Okay, troops, I am open to suggestions. For one thing, how are we being tracked? Why did Mavors pick this moment in time to come get us?"

  As soon as I had asked the question, phrased in that way, the answer came to me. I threw back my head and laughed and laughed, and the others looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

  I put my hands overhead. "Victory is ours! Any of the ideas we attempt will work. All we have to do is make it look as if we are even half-serious. In fact, if we just point the prow of the ship between two of those black pyramids and make a break for it, with a little curving and dodging, I think you will find that the black ships will be strangely incompetent. For some reason they will fall behind."

  Victor looked at me, puzzled. "Why in the world are you saying that, Amelia?"

  "I could be wrong, and if I am wrong, we will all be captured again, have our memories erased, and get turned back into unhappy children. Maybe Vanity and I will end up as Boggin's sex toys, and Colin will have to marry the wrinkled old Mrs. Wren. So what do we have to lose? Vanity, set your course! Full speed ahead! Ramming speed! Just ignore the enemy. I am sure they will go away if we just don't pay them any mind!"

  Colin said, "She's gone nuts. I vote we vote her out and put in a leader who is more on the non-nuts side of the nuts/non-nuts spectrum."

  I pointed a finger at him: "You are still going to stand court-martial for your disobedience of a direct order, mister! So don't you give me any lip."

  Victor was smart. I saw his eyes twinkle, and he snorted. "No. The leader is right. Vanity, just steer between them. They will part and let us pass." He looked at me: "Assuming they have not suffered a change in policy in the meanwhile."

  I spread my hands. "I admit it is a risk. I am making an assumption."

  Vanity raised her hand. "Ooh! Me next! My question! What assumption? What the heck are you two talking about?"

  Quentin was standing with his head cocked to one side, as if listening to a whisper that no one else could hear. He had one han
d on his staff, which was set firmly against the deck to help brace him, and the other hand was cupped in front of him. Perhaps he was reading the lines of his own palm.

  Quentin said, "I think fate just altered. I would have to do a more detailed reading to get a clear result. Something just happened." He looked up at me, and looked rather impressed and rather surprised. "How did you do that?"

  Vanity said, "Do what? What is going on? Is today just official Everybody-Picks-on-Vanity day?"

  I said to Quentin, "A magician never reveals her secrets!"

  Colin said, "This isn't funny! You're all going mad as March bunnies! And someone is going to tell me what is going on! I have a right to know!"

  I stood up, giving Colin a cold and haughty look: "No! No you don't! You have a right to obey orders, which you never do, even though the rest of us do! It is damn hard to be leader, and I don't like it, and I am tired of you trying to make my job harder! So you don't get to know! And stop calling for votes and stop undercutting my authority, or I actually Will take a riding crop to your butt and I will enjoy it and you won't!"

  Colin stepped back, amazed by my outburst.

  Vanity raised her hand. "Don't I get to know? I promise to be good. Oh, pul-eese! You've got to tell me what's going on!"

  I said, "Well, okay. But you were disobedient, too. You should have run away and left me when I told you to. Come here."

  I leaned and whispered in her ear.

  Vanity actually giggled. "Oh, that is so obvious! Oh, that is funny, isn't it?"

  Colin said, "What? What?"

  I said, "Today is hereby declared official Everybody-Picks-on-Colin day! The Dark Mistress has spoken!"

  Colin muttered, "And this is different from every other day how, again, exactly?"

  Twenty minutes later, with the dawn sun appearing on the horizon ahead, we heard a shrill horn-call pass from ship to ship, and banners rose in signal on the huge battle barges on the horizon astern of us. The speeding black ships curveted and turned port and starboard, leaving trails of foam hissing in the waters, like the palm-tree decorations in an Egyptian temple, parallel lines suddenly spreading and curving left and right.