Fate’s Peak Read online

  The more William thought about the flies, the more meaningless they seemed: if he was not there, the flies would have remained a part of the buzzing ether. The wasteland where they lived would not even notice if they all disappeared one day. What force compelled the flies to maintain this nightly ceremony? Perhaps the scent of death drifting on the wind was enough to sustain them.

  William ran out of curiosity and felt relieved of all those thoughts. Without anything else to turn his mind to, he soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

  ***

  William feels himself crushed within a vortex that swirls around him with images from History: a child kneeling before Christ, an army riding elephants over snow-capped mountains, the Colossus of Rhodes crumbling into the sea, soot-faced peasants toiling in the mud, a veiled widow weeping as she looks out a window, a procession of monks walking down a dirt road, Templars burning at the stakes, a flight of arrows impaling a formation of infantry, an ancient king seated on his throne, a horse galloping in the surf crashing on a beach. His mind swirls around with images like it’s going down a drain.

  William’s eyes open to a dreamscape illuminated by Chinese lanterns drifting into the sky, above a castle perched at a cliff’s edge. A clocktower rising above the bailey shows the hands ticking backwards, and he looks down into the courtyard, resplendent with flowerbeds. He dives like a falcon with prey in its sights, rolling off the flowers and disappearing through an open portcullis into the keep. Chatter from a large party echoes off the bare stone walls, drawing him down a corridor to a door that he opens and steps through, into a gawdy ballroom with a twinkling night sky painted on the ceiling. Everyone in the room is standing around in the nude, milling about, shivering and exchanging glances with each other. His heart skips a beat when he sees a gelatinous green blob oozing between the legs of the partygoers.

  A tuxedoed butler dashes into the ballroom and points at the slimy thing. “What is this creature doing here? It certainly was not invited! We do not tolerate the presence of Andromedans here, don’t you know your galaxy is at war with ours? I’m afraid you will not be allowed to enjoy the festivities planned for tonight.”

  “Don’t judge me based on my race,” the Andromedan burbles. “I have a lot to offer!”

  “Out of the question!” the butler snaps. “This party is exclusive—humans only.”

  The butler rushes out of the room for a moment and returns with a large bowl, chasing the Andromedan through the muttering crowd and scooping it up in the container. The crowd parts before him in waves as he carries the wiggling creature to a door with a glowing exit sign above it. He stops in front of the door and draws his leg back, kicking the door open with a splinter of wood. Beyond the door stretches the infinite Void, devoid of any light.

  “Harrumph,” The butler mutters as he upends the bowl, tossing the Andromedan into the Void. As the creature hurtles away, it launches into an acapella rendition of Beethoven’s Fifth. The butler leans out and grabs the door’s handle, pulling it closed on the Andromedan’s farewell.

  The butler turns around and notices how weird the guests are acting, men and women standing around naked, casting furtive glances at each other. He bursts out laughing and wags a finger at the crowd. “This is a respectable establishment,” he says, and with a clap of his hands, he conjures an assortment of gowns and suits that come floating down from the rafters. As the clothes brush against the heads of the partygoers, they all reach up a hand and freeze in place.

  A meteorite plummets through the ceiling and pierces the butler’s head, which explodes into a stream of blood that rains through the air, splattering a nearby guest whose mouth is hanging wide. Blood splashes off her skin, staining her milky skin, and it flows down her throat. Her flesh starts expanding like a balloon filled with juice, which sloshes about under her skin. Her skin starts contorting with the pressure; with a whip-like crack, the nipples rocket off her breasts and unleash a stream of milk that merges with the stream of blood in mid-air. The pink mixture flows like a mighty river across the ballroom, sweeping the guests off their feet—their limbs flailing as the current piles their bodies against the walls.

  On the ceiling, the Sun rises into view and smiles down at the veil of clothing blocking its view of the festivities below. William feels the happiness of the Sun and is filled with rage. He takes a deep breath and blows the garments out of the air. As clothing settle into pink liquid and the remains of the party are illuminated by the Sun, it frowns; then it starts to glow brighter and brighter until the light consumes his senses entirely.

  EIGHT

  William jerked awake and gasped for breath. His mind tumbled out of the ether, trying to remember who he was, where he was. Finding connection to his brain, he saw sunlight shining through the fabric of his cape and remembered the wasteland on which he lay. Relief flooded through him, that he was not trapped in the demented reality of his dream. He stretched out his legs, feeling how the sleep had invigorated him despite what it had subjected him to. The moments ticked away as he pondered the meaning of what he had seen in that other dimension. The more he thought about it, the quicker his memory of it slipped away, like sand in an hourglass passing from his conscious to his unconscious mind. As the dream faded away into a blur of fog and smoke, all that remained was a macabre feeling that pulsed in his heart.

  William redirected his attention to his body. His right arm was numb but feeling returned as he flexed his muscles. His hands and feet began tingling in anticipation of the day. Lifting himself to his knees, William projected his thoughts up into the sky: I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Mostly I’m just confused; but, Father, if you help guide my feet, I swear I will make you proud.

  His prayer penetrated the cloud covering hanging high in the sky, serving as the conduit to mediate William’s council with his Father. A response came hurtling back down through the atmosphere: My dear son, do not fret, for you have already made me proud. Go forth with a light heart. You shall complete your task in due time.

  These words entered William’s mind not from without but from within, at the core of his being, and they flowed out with a gentle intensity that sheathed his body in the warmth of compassion. He knew that, despite the forces of Darkness which dominated the plain, an even greater force of Light existed to combat it, that these two forces had been locked in combat since the beginning of Time, the scales tipping back and forth as they grappled for a better position. The Darkness had overwhelmed the Galaxy for a while, but this had signaled the Light to increase its efforts. William realized he was the Light’s trump card; he could feel the truth of this—that his Father had instilled the essence of Light within the fabric of his being—so he knew that whatever he would have to do would be the right thing.

  Now that William’s purpose had exposed itself to him, the journey before him seemed more like a walk in the park. Though the future remained unknown, he knew he would be able to overcome any obstacle that fell in his path. Warmth filled his breast and this feeling—it cannot be called happiness, for happiness is fleeting and this was more like a state of being—brought a smile to William’s face. It banished the last remnants of the dream from his heartstrings.

  William whipped the cape over his shoulder, and sunlight streamed over him. The sun hung a finger-width above the horizon, and he regretted that he had missed the pageantry of its rise. He felt the warmth flow along his raised arm and closed his eyes against the glare. While his eyelids glowed pale red, he dismissed all the thoughts from his mind, knowing how these faded away as quickly as they came, only serving to create a feeling. It was the feeling that mattered and, as William knelt there, he abandoned himself to the bliss of being.

  Several minutes passed in this meditation, but it was only a temporary relief from the harsh realities that surrounded him. William slowly parted his eyelids and his vision swam about to adjust to the light, making the ground swirl in a hazy recollection of the
previous day’s walk.

  William’s mind froze when he saw a wolf curled up on the ground a meter from him, its head resting on its forelegs as it slumbered fitfully. He gasped. The noise shook the wolf awake, and it raised its head to look at him. Its eyes shined, radiating a sense of serenity as if everything was as it should be. William met the wolf’s gaze and an invisible spark passed between them; he felt compassion swelling in his breast. He reached out a hand for the wolf to see and it cocked its head, sniffing at the air. William brought his hand closer to the wolf’s flank, and it continued to lie still. He patted the wolf three times, whispering, “Good boy.”

  The wolf twisted its head around and licked his hand, drenching it with slobber. William laughed and wiped the back of his hand on the wolf’s fur. It turned its head back to look him in the face, its mouth parted in a grin as if to say, “Hello, friend.”

  William grinned back at it, recalculating what his journey would be like with the wolf to accompany him: he would not be alone in spirit or body. This filled him with new determination, and he started to push himself to his feet when his stomach growled, reminding him to break his fast. He settled back onto his haunches and closed his eyes, searching the vaults of his pseudomemory, envisioning a slaughtered pig roasting on a spit over an open fire. The imagined scent made his mouth start to water as he projected his desire to his Father.

  William opened his eyes and looked around. He chuckled when he saw a slab of pork steaming upon the same rock as the grapes. A savory aroma drifted upon the breeze, and the wolf took one sniff before vaulting to its feet. But William was one step ahead, grabbing the pork before the wolf could get to it, which growled but lay back down, sulking with its head upon its front paws.

  William bit into the pork, tearing a chunk off with his teeth, a smoky taste filling his mouth. He sighed and took another bite; with each bite he took, juices dribbled down his chin. He wiped his chin clean with the back of his free hand, and the wolf whined at him, sniffing the air and seeing the juices on William’s free hand, hanging at his side. The wolf rose and padded over to him, lifting its snout to lick the hand clean. The tongue sent his nerves tingling, and he pulled his hand away before the wolf could take a bite. He took a step back and braced himself for an attack, but it sat back on its haunches and whined even louder. “Ah, boy, you hungry too?”

  The wolf barked, so William gripped the slab of pork with both hands and pulled with all his strength, tearing it in half. Juice oozed out and dripped down upon the wolf’s snout, its head tilted back to keep the pork in check. It licked away the juice with a lazy tongue, and he chuckled. “Well, boy, here’s your portion. Eat up.”

  William tossed the pork for the wolf to snatch out of the air. It gobbled down the meat in a few chomps, then turned away to groom itself. What a waste of flavor. He took a bite from his portion and closed his eyes to focus all his sensations upon taste, keeping them closed until he swallowed the last bite and licked his fingers clean. “I guess it is time to get going.”

  The wolf’s ears perked up and it looked at William, who was scanning the horizon with his hand over his eyes. He pivoted through ninety degrees and dropped his hand when he spotted the distant point shimmering against the horizon, his shadow stretching out before him. He locked the direction in his mind then walked to the smoothed patch of dirt where he had lain through the night, bending down to retrieve his hat. Putting it over his rumpled hair, he whistled for the wolf, which jumped to its feet and trotted after William, falling into pace at his side.

  The wolf kept it gaze on the ground but occasionally would look up at William with a sparkle of admiration in its eyes. As the Sun climbed higher behind them, the wolf started panting, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. William glanced down at it and figured he should get some practice with his voice. “Are you getting tired, boy?” The wolf cocked its head to glance at him. “We cannot stop yet. You see that little bit on the horizon?” He pointed straight ahead, the wolf shifting its gaze to his hand. “That is where we are going. It grew some yesterday, but I want to make it grow even more today.”

  The wolf started sniffing the ground and William lowered his arm. It doesn’t understand anything I say. What is it that connects us together? He glanced around at the uncompromising redundancy of the plain, all the details scorched with the memories that had incinerated the land in a previous age.

  As they walked, the Sun continued its march toward the zenith of the cloud-speckled sky, shrinking William’s shadow under his feet. A cloud floated in front of the Sun, throwing shade across the whole plain, and a shiver ran through him. He felt how his clothes had been soaked in sweat, which accounted for why his mouth was so dry. He ran his tongue along his lips, feeling how they had started to crack.

  The Sun reappeared and William thought about stopping to wring the sweat from his clothes back into his mouth, but then he saw a carpet of withered grass spreading out ahead of him. He strode into the middle of the field, coming to a standstill; the wolf barked and started prancing about the field like a puppy, ripping out a clump of grass with a shake of its head, letting the blades flutter through the air. Maybe this plain is not all bad, after all. William started trudging across the field, a smile playing across his face as he watched the wolf circle him.

  The smile vanished when he noticed the wolf freeze mid-stride, drawing its ears drawn back and growling at an invisible threat. William stopped and looked around the field, seeing nothing but the waving grass; however, the wolf’s growl prompted his body to start pumping adrenaline through his veins. His heartbeat quickened as the air gathered a static charge and the hairs on his arm started standing up. The wolf raised its hackles and crouched lower to the ground. The breeze picked up to a gust and the air started swirling around the field, blowing grass to the ground, the wind focused around a point a few meters ahead of him, picking up dust to limn a vortex. The air fell still around William as the vortex narrowed, compressing the static charge within it until its core started glowing. The light only served to accent a shadow that started taking shape like a blob behind the swirling dust.

  The wolf yelped and scampered behind William’s legs. His instincts were screaming for him to flee, to run as far from the field as his feet could carry him, but he knew his destiny would not allow him. His blood ran cold when he realized that he had no way to defend himself against a physical threat. Father! he prayed. Something is coming, send me your aid! He heard something thud into the ground by his feet but could not tear his eyes away from the vortex.

  The shadow started swelling out into the shape of a human being, which rotated around as the static glow molded over it, shining with such brilliance William had to shield his eyes. The light faded away and he withdrew his hand to see a poltergeist facing him through the swirling dust, its flesh grey with decay and black holes for eyes. A gash across its throat opened and closed like a second mouth as its head tottered back and forth in the wind, its cadaverous body draped with a tattered, blood-soaked cloak.

  The poltergeist locked eyes with William and his whole body started shaking, the color draining from his face to match its pallor. It grinned wickedly at him as the vortex slowed its spinning and dust floated back to the ground. He stopped shaking as the wind died away, but he could do nothing but stare at its gashed throat.

  The poltergeist snapped its head upright. “Who are you to disturb my eternal nightmare? Speak up or your soul will be mine. I shall take it from your lifeless body with pleasure!”

  The inhuman voice grated in William’s head, dispersing the fog that had clouded his mind, but he sputtered when he tried to respond. The poltergeist cackled, its head rolling back and forth. William closed his eyes and gasped for breath. “I am William.” His voice sounded puny to him, so he stoked the fire of rage in his breast. He opened his eyes. “I am William! I have come to vanquish the Darkness, and you, demon, stand in my way! I will start with you.”

 
The poltergeist’s head snapped up and the grin vanished. It opened its mouth wide and let out a shriek. A cloud of darkness rushed out of its mouth, blinding William as he shrunk away, bending to a knee to grope through the grass for what his Father had sent. The shriek went on and on, dimming William’s rage, and he sobbed when he felt something smooth under his palm. He tried to grasp it but it cut into his flesh, pain searing up his nerves. He started hollering, trying to drown out the poltergeist’s shriek, and light started returning to his eyes. He glanced down and saw a longsword shining in the grass, grasping its hilt as he stood to face the poltergeist.

  William swung the sword, but the enemy twisted its body out of the way. His blade sliced through a billow of its cloak. The poltergeist cackled and, as he set his feet for another swing, it swung its head backwards. Blood streamed out of the gash, and he closed his eyes before it splattered over his face. Stumbling backwards, he tripped over the wolf and sprawled into the grass. The wolf yelped and bolted across the field.

  William rolled over and pushed himself to a knee. Using the sword as leverage, he climbed back to his feet, wiping blood from his eyes and opening them to glare at the poltergeist. He brought the sword back, ready to charge, when its head snapped upright. “This is how you wish to die?” it roared. “So be it!”

  The poltergeist rushed at William, swiping its hand at his head. He ducked under it and sliced his sword up into its arm, turning to face its back. He slashed an arc through the air, but the poltergeist spun around and grabbed the blade in its hand. He could hear the blade grating against bone as he tried to pull it free and realized it was not bleeding. The poltergeist grinned. “You can’t hurt me, fool!”

  William twisted the sword and cut off its fingers, which tumbled down into the grass. The poltergeist struck him in the chest with its other hand, launching him through the air. He landed in a heap and gasped for breath. As the poltergeist rushed at him, he rolled out of the way and jumped back to his feet. He backed away and adopted a defensive posture. The poltergeist pressed the attack again, windmilling its arms, and William parried each blow before kicking at its legs, sidestepping as it fell face-first into the grass. He lunged and impaled its heart with his sword, but when he withdrew the blade, it stood back up and turned its back to him. Its head dangled upside-down from its neck, the black holes glaring at him. “How can you kill the undead?”