Everything felt warm, every inch of her body, as Kathy slowly regained awareness of something other than darkness. As she groaned and tried to sit up, she felt her movements were restricted. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself lying on a beaten brown couch, covered with a heavy tiger striped comforter. Her gear lay on the floor in front of the couch, situated in the center of what looked like a school janitor's supply closet/workroom.
Across from her, she saw as she tossed off the blanket and sat up, was a long metal table covered in monitors and keyboards, along with speakers and a microphone with an on/off switch and a radial dial. Taped to one of the blank monitors was an envelope, sealed in wax with the claw insignia Kathy had seen on Quoth's tie.
She got up, spotting the mini fridge in one corner, a small, closet-sized bathroom open beside it. A look around revealed a vault wheel-door behind her, next to which was a glass panel, illuminated red. Walking over to the monitors, she snatched the envelope and tore it open, pulling out three folded sheets stapled together. She read the first page to herself standing at the table.
'Hello, there, sleepyhead! Welcome to your next test. Before you, you will find a series of monitors, control panels, and a microphone. You will use these in combination to try and guide your comrades to the room you're in. Each one has been hampered in some key fashion, which will become apparent when you turn the monitors on. There is, of course, some leeway, insofar as these men you travel with are none of them helpless. But how badly injured they get, and perhaps even whether they will live or die, rests with you, and you alone.
'Think of yourself as a tiny god, if you would, ha ha! There are reference guides under the couch for some of the creatures your friends will encounter. Familiarize yourself. The test begins one hour after you finish reading this. And yes, I'll know. -Love, Quoth'
Kathy heard something beep, and she looked at the monitors, which all now displayed a green LED countdown of her time. She quickly flipped to the next page, which began the instructions for using the control panels and monitors.
Kathy began reading as fast as she could.
By the time she'd read the instructions and the creature reference manuals, Kathy had two minutes remaining before the monitors would come online. Her skin crackled with tension, every movement felt by every hair on her body. She'd discovered red cans of an soda she'd never heard of in the mini fridge, Nozz-A-La, and was currently on her second can as she sat upon a battered rolling office chair at the main control console.
The tuner dial on the microphone had four settings; Daggeuro, Byron, Senta and Dimanche. She would only be able to talk to one of them at a time, though she had six monitors. Each of these also had a label, one for each of the men in her company, one labeled with her own name, and one marked '?'. She didn't care for that one bit; the question mark monitor had a narrow horizontal crack running along its center, and was already on, displaying static snow.
The timer reached the ten second mark, and she began counting down aloud. "Ten, nine, eight, seven," she said, cut off as the '?' monitor briefly flickered into a solid image. It showed an image of King Ovin, sitting in the back of a wagon with several humans, returned to his diminutive stature. The humans all wore military BDUs and held automatic rifles in hand, bouncing along. She blinked, and the screen returned to snow.
Still alive, she thought. Alive, and what's more, he must be close to us now. Hang on, your majesty. We're coming. For the first time since leaving the still form of Vernon behind, she felt hopeful.
The screens all flickered on, and she looked at them each, assessing quickly her friends' situations. Each of them stood in a kind of wire cage in a blank concrete cell, pacing back and forth until the doors of the cages sprang open. Senta, she noticed, wasn't walking. On his feet were strapped what looked like metal rollerblades. He wobbled, barely staying upright as he tried to get to the cage door.
Daggeuro appeared to have no left arm on his screen. This meant, of course, that his only cross-draw blade was Bane, which she had only once seen him draw on its own. He had explained to her that he despised drawing Bane on its own, as its aura, unbalanced by Boon, quickly made him into a bloodthirsty menace.
Byron was feeling his way around his wire cage, his eyes swollen and puffy-looking. Kathy estimated that he could barely see much further than a foot in front of his face. On the last monitor she saw Baron Dimanche staring at his hands, flexing them repeatedly, shaking his head. Visibly, there was nothing wrong with him, but something seemed amiss. She clicked the microphone selector to Dimanche, held the trigger button and said into it, "Baron, it's Kathy. Can you hear me?" When she let go of the trigger, the speakers on either side of her control panel streamed in the sound of some kind of factory machinery thrumming.
"Yes, I can hear you," Dimanche responded, his voice carrying over the speakers. "Kathy, I cannot access my magic. Where are you?"
"Sit tight, I'll explain everthing in a minute," she replied. Quoth might have been powerful and cunning, but he'd underestimated Kathy Potts when he gave her an hour to read the material he'd provided. She was a terrific multitasker, and she'd spent that time not only learning what she could from the manuals, but also thinking through a strategy for clearing this test.
She flicked the selector switch to Daggeuro. "Daggeuro, it's Kathy. Can you hear me?"
"I can," he said.
"Just hold tight a minute, I'll explain everything." She repeated the process with Senta and Byron, noting that Byron had an edge of panic in his voice. Held at arm's length, his own hand became a pinkish blur, and all else beyond it faded into a mass blob of gray after about ten feet.
Quoth had told her she could only talk to one of them at a time, true. And yes, she had to guide them all through to the end of their areas. But he had never said that they all had to be moving at the same time. The raven-man had surely been counting on her trying to juggle all four of her companions, but Kathy was more clever than he'd given her credit for.
Speaking with her allies, conveying to each the impairment of the others, they all agreed that Byron should be led through first. His own handicap was the worst of the bunch from their shared perspective, so nobody argued it. Kathy cracked her fingers and changed his monitor's camera feed to the hallway outside of his cell.
When Byron opened the door, he would be stepping out into what looked like the grillework walkway of a factory or plant, the sound of engines and turbines coming loud through the speakers. Kathy saw a small, round black form, perhaps two feet tall, walking towards the camera. Like a blot of black ink with legs and gangly arms, it held open a mouth full of dagger-like teeth, which bisected its body. Izzes, the creatures were called, izz in the singular. They came in two types, black and white. The white izzes were passive by nature when alone, easily frightened off. But in packs, they swarmed to overpower and devour their prey.
The black izzes, however, were one and all rampant little death engines, attacking anything that moved, including one another. They sometimes hunted in trios, and never swarmed like the white izzes, which were their natural prey.
"Okay, Byron," she said, keeping her voice level. "Can you read your cards if you hold them up close to your eyes?" There was a moment's silence.
"Yeah," he finally said.
"Okay, ready your shotgun. When you step out into the hallway, kneel down and fire at the black blob you'll see. Make it quick." On the monitor, she saw his cell door fly open, and Byron came out and did exactly as she had instructed, twin blasts of hellfire incinerating the black izz where it stood. She quickly cycled to the next camera, which was at the intersecting hallway. Using the directional buttons on her cnsole, she swept it left and right, spotting two black izzes now running toward Byron, visible far down in her view. "Two more izzes coming your way," she said calmly.
Still crouched in the distance, she saw Byron shoulder the hellfire shotgun in a ready posture, and as the two critters closed, he fired again, wiping them out. "Good! Now, go down the walkway and turn left at the intersection." She watched as he followed her directions, turning the camera so she could see him before a sliding blast chamber door with a number pad set next to it. "All right, you're at a door. If you lean in and right, you'll see a number pad."
"Got it."
"Okay, check the number stamped on the underside of the panel and read it back to me," she said, opening one of the reference manuals to a list of access codes. He read it back to her, and she nodded. "Hang tight," she said, typing in the access code on her own console to access the camera in the next room.
The screen flickered, then resolved to show her a giant grillework flooring, molten magma steaming several feet below it. Standing in the middle of the floor was an ornate black boulder covered in runes. A giant, bloodshot eye on one side, facing the camera, blinked, pupil aimed toward the blast door.
"Chigorax," she breathed. The creature reference said the chigorax were sentient stones that consumed time off a person's life, aging them until they died if they touched them. Beyond the chigorax stood some kind of sleeping pod out of a science fiction movie. Kathy recalled one of the manuals mentioning that these were called port pods, teleporting users between several such devices in a small area. She clicked on the microphone and relayed to Byron what she knew of the creature in the next room and the port pod.
"Okay," he said quietly. Kathy kept the camera feed in the room with the chigorax, but she heard his power flash out over the speakers as he manifested a card. "Give me the door code." She did, and seconds later she saw him enter the chamber with the chigorax. He was toting something that looked like a back-tank flamethrower as the creature began to unfold, rising into a towering, angular construct of obsidian black. It wasn't yet even standing when Byron took two steps toward it and loosed a war cry, firing his weapon.
What came streaming out of the barrel of his weapon wasn't fire, but a thin green fluid that smoked and hissed as it ate away at the chigorax. The beast howled as its legs quickly melted under it, reaching out futilely as Byron hosed it down, leaving it to drain and drip down through the grillework into the magma below.
Byron dropped the tanks, ran around the steaming pool and ran right into the port pod, his vision still blurred. She saw him lay down inside of it, and with a flash of blue light on screen, she heard a thump behind her.
Byron lay stunned on the couch, blinking at her. "I can see again," he said quietly. He tried to sit up, but Kathy was on him immediately, weeping freely as she peppered his cheeks and mouth with little kisses and held him tight.
She was a quarter of the way home.
Kathy handed Byron one of the creature reference booklets, which he began reading through immediately. "There's soda in that mini fridge, and some food, mostly stuff for sandwiches," she said. "The Nozz-A-La tastes like Coke." Byron snapped his head up, eyes wide. "What?"
"Nozz-A-La? Seriously?" Kathy held up her current can and rattled it at him, and regretted it right off, as all of the color drained from Byron's face.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"It's from The Dark Tower," Byron rasped. Kathy knew what he was talking about, though she'd never read Stephen King's fantasy epic. She had been surprised to learn that Byron ritually read through the entire series once every couple of years, powering through all seven books in about a month and a half. "Walter leaves some in a bag of supplies for Roland and his tet, when he's going by the name Randall Flagg."
"Well, it's wet, and I'm thirsty," Kathy replied, sipping to show him it was perfectly safe. Byron fetched one from the mini fridge, eyeballing it suspiciously. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and soon he was standing beside her at the consoles, sipping his drink. "Besides, with all of the wonderful, funderful ways Quoth has to kill us off, I doubt he'd resort to something so mundane as poisoning food."
"Fair point."
"All right, who do I do next," Kathy muttered, looking back and forth between the remaining monitors. The '?' monitor flickered to life once more, displaying a man in a hooded black jacket and blue jeans, a golden skull mask on over his face, mesh black netting obscuring his eyes and mouth. He was walking across some kind of arid desert, brown gloved hands clutching the straps on a bacpack. Tucked behind the bag on his back was a gnarled oak staff. As Kathy and Byron watched, the masked figure stopped walking, and slowly turned his covered eyes toward them. As one hand pointed out at them, the screen once more turned to white noise.
"Who was that," they asked in unison. Byron and Kathy's eyes met, and in that moment, they managed a matching weak smile. Byron said, "Probably not our concern at this juncture."
"Did you sense it, though," she asked, eyebrow quirked. "From whoever that was, I mean?"
"I think so," Byron replied. "If we came across him, I suspect he'd be an ally. A potent one."
"Someone worth Quoth keeping an eye on, then," she said. "Okay, I think I'm going to go with Daggeuro next. Do me a favor, keep an eye on that monitor. I think it may come in handy." Byron nodded, then walked away, returning from a corner of the room with an empty blue plastic milk crate, turning it over and sitting down. Kathy rolled over to the kennin warrior's monitor and switched to his channel on the microphone. "Daggeuro?"
"I hear you, Kathy. Is Byron all right?"
"He is. He's here with me now. Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Okay." Kathy used the keyboard in front of his monitor to change cameras to outside of his cell, and she saw that his cell would open on a courtyard of stone, surrounded by tall hedges. There were ten white izzes puttering around on the stones, appearing to be wrestling around with one another and jabbering in whatever language they spoke. She clicked the microphone on. "Dag, when you exit that cell, you're going to be stepping out into a courtyard full of white izzes. They're small and don't look like much, but you need to take care of them quickly. They're deadly in packs." She flipped to the next camera, but as she'd feared, it was looking at the exit of a hedge maze. She wouldn't be able to guide him through. "You'll see the entrance to a hedge maze, and there's no cameras there. I won't see you again until you get clear." She flipped to the next camera, which showed a grassy field before a cottage, in front of which sat a lounging sphinx, eyes closed. "Um, past the maze is a cottage, guarded by a sphinx. It will likely challenge you with a riddle for entry."
"I have dealt with their kind before," said Daggeuro, sounding gruff, curt. "Very well. Tell the others they may have a while to wait. I'm not the greatest at hedge mazes."
"You've done them before?"
"Yes, centuries ago, in the kingdom of Alleco. They find it the height of sport to pass through in record time, and their mazes were ever so elaborate. Good fun, that."
"Ever win," Byron asked.
"Never in life," Daggeuro replied. "I'll be fine. Just keep listening in for me," he said. She flipped back on the monitor to the courtyard camera, watching intently as the kennin warrior stepped outside, Bane in hand. Dark energy crackled along its obsidian length, flaring out as he gave the izzes no chance to gather themselves. Daggeuro flung himself into their midst, where he was a terror of graceful deadliness until all were cut to ribbons around him, blobs of white and crimson.
He disappeared then into the hedge maze, where Kathy and Byron could hear him breathing heavily, a steady low growl coming from his throat. Already Bane's influence was upon him, it seemed. They heard him roar, followed by the grunts and shuffling of footwork, along with the splash and squeal of something being slashed.
There came a pause then, wherein they heard Daggeuro snarling, then a metallic 'clink'. This was followed by the hiss of something metal clearing its sheath, and Daggeuro sighed. "Much better," he said raggedly.
"Dag?"
"I'm fine, Kathy. I've drawn Boon to hand, though I never realized how difficult it would be doing so from a top-stab grip. I'm not used to such movements. I am proceeding." Kathy listened closely, turning her eyes toward the '?' monitor once again. Byron had gotten up to scrounge together a couple of sandwiches for them, and as he was sitting back down, the static snow cleared up long enough to show them the interior of a church, the pews emptied, a single figure knelt down in prayer before the huge wooden cross at the front of the room. The screen went to snow once more.
"This must mean something," Byron said softly, tapping the '?' monitor. "I wonder if this is maybe an element beyond Quoth's control." Kathy turned a curious eyebrow up at him. "It's like I said before, his power is unimaginable, but there are certain side effects that he has no hand in occasionally."
"So, he might have made all of these cameras and monitors and just wound up with extras he couldn't control?"
"Yeah. Usually the side effects are related to what he's manifesting, like this. Sometimes they're just," he said, letting a slight shake of his head fill in the blank at the end. "It all gets to be too much sometimes." Kathy nodded, checking the monitor once more. There sat the sphinx, but still no sign of Daggeuro, and she heard only infrequent sounds of combat over the speakers.
"You said before that time moved differently when you were taken to Quoth's world," Kathy said. "How long did it feel like you'd been captive?"
"Months, if not close to two years," Byron replied. "A lot of it's still hazy in my head. I think I prefer it that way," he added, a subtle hint that he didn't want to continue down this conversational road.
"Do you know of any kind of weakness, a blind spot he might have?"
"Not really, aside from his vanity. Don't forget, too, that even he answers to someone. All of this, though, feels like a distraction for him, something to do to kill time. When you don't age, you need hobbies, I suppose."
"And subjugating an entire world counts as a hobby?"
"For him, yes," Byron said flatly. "Kathy, the symbol on his tie is the mark of his master, and that thing is the only thing in his world more powerful than Quoth. But he's bound somehow, kept away from becoming personally involved most of the time." Kathy's attention returned to the monitor as Daggeuro appeared at the hedge maze exit, covered in blood and bits of gore, Boon shining bright. He awkwardly turned the blade around and sheathed it, approaching the sphinx with his arms spread wide, palms up to the sky.
Kathy and Byron heard him again on the speakers as he said, "Behold, oh sphinx! Comes to you Daggeuro, Blademaster of kennin! Mine hands be free and open, for I come in peace to thee." The lion-like creature lifted its head, its humanoid face breaking into a wry grin.
"T'is true, I see you well as you are, come in peace and goodwill, Daggeuro Blademaster," the creature replied in a husky, amiable tone. "Do you understand what I will require to let you pass?"
"A riddle," said the kennin. "But there are two sorts of challenges of riddles. Either you shall pose one to me, and passage requires answer, or I must ask you one that you cannot answer. I ask of you, which would you proceed with?"
"The standard, I believe, is acceptable," said the sphinx. "I shall pose, and you shall answer. But I shall pose three riddles to you, Daggeuro Blademaster, and of them, you must correctly answer two. Do we have a compact?"
"That depends," said Daggeuro. "What is the penalty for failure?"
"I strike you dead," replied the creature with a smile. "Not because I want to, mind. It is simply the law of my kind."
"I understand, and hold you blameless," said Daggeuro. The sphinx rose up on its legs, still smiling, cocking its head to one side.
"You, sir, are exceptional," said the sphinx. "I have tested so many over the long centuries of my life, and never before has anyone treated so civilly with me when learning what the penalty is. You're, different." Daggeuro chuckled lightly, flapped his hand casually. "No, really! I admire your grace, sir. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I can be. I thank you for your praise, noble sphinx," said Daggeuro. "Now, the riddles."
"Indeed," said the sphinx, sitting on its hindquarters. Kathy rolled off to one side, pawing through the second creature guide for the entry on sphinxes. She quickly read through the passage, and tapped the page, finding a glaring problem with the scenario Daggeuro was in. She rolled back over to the micrphone and keyed it twice rapidly. On screen, she saw Daggeuro hold up his hand to pause the sphinx.
"A moment, if I may," he said. The sphinx nodded, and Daggeuro turned away, cupping his ear.
"Dag, if you answer his riddles and he steps aside for you, you're going to have to take that door at a rush," Kathy said. "The females are always good to their word, but the males tend to attack as soon as someone opens the door or chest they're guarding, since beating the challenge only allows you access. Be careful." On screen the kennin nodded, then returned his attention to the sphinx.
"I stand ready," he said.
"No sooner spoken, than broken," said the sphinx.
"Silence," Daggeuro replied quickly. The creature narrowed its eyes upon him, but Kathy thought that look contrived.
"You speak true, Daggeuro Blademaster," said the sphinx. "Perhaps something harder, then." It cleared its throat. "Short in morning, long in evening, silent always, and joins us in our play." Kathy and Byron shared a quick look of confusion, then looked back to the monitor, where Daggeuro was pacing back and forth, clearly considering his response. Finally he stopped and shook his head.
"Daylight," he said, sounding more like a question than a response.
"No, my friend. The answer is a shadow. One final riddle," the sphinx said, rising on all fours, claws sliding out on its paws, readying for the chance to attack. "Present when all was nothing, in the darkest night, held true in war and disaster, present when all is falling apart toward nothing again. What am I?"
Kathy shook her head. "This is screwed up. You have any clue," she asked Byron. He just gave her a dour look. "It's not like we're dumb, but goddamn that's a hard one." For a long minute, Daggeuro said nothing, hand sliding toward the handle of Bane in a cross-draw gesture. He stopped his hand abruptly, snapped his fingers and pointed at the sphinx with a grin.
"Hope," Daggeuro said. The sphinx's claws retracted, and it sat once again on its haunches.
"That is correct, Daggeuro Blademaster," the creatue said, bowing its head low, face concealed. When it raised it again, Byron, Katie and Daggeuro all gasped in unison, as Quoth's beaked, feathered face stood where the humanoid visage had been, his eyes bloodshot and twirling. "But wherever there is hope, I will stop it! Where self-esteem rears its shining head, I will be there to break its teeth in!"
The sphinx shook its head violently about, the face morphing back to its previous state. The expression the creature wore was one of dismayed confusion. "What just happened to me? What was that?" It rose up on all fours again, claws out, brows furrowed. "Did you do something to me?"
"Nay, I did not," Daggeuro said calmly, hand still at his side. "Hear the truth of mine words, o sphinx. It is a known thing that your kind can discern a truth from a lie when spoken. Do so now, and hear this truth; I did nothing to you." The sphinx took a step back, then sat down once again. Daggeuro strode confidently past it, and just before grasping the doorknob on the cottage's front door, he turned toward the mythical being. "The name of the creature that overtook you a moment there is Quoth," he said.
The sphinx padded up to Daggeuro then, leaning in close to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it was, it wasn't loud enough to carry to the camera Kathy and Byron watched from, but Daggeuro nodded at whatever it was. He opened the cottage door and stepped out of sight.
Behind them, the kennin flopped face-first onto the couch.