Pt. 4

Gideon stared at his friend in amazement. "You believe this bull?" he asked.

"What I believe is not at issue here Matthew. What is important is that Dr. Grey believes his tale. And there is something about those paintings, something I can't quite pin down. Perhaps if Maximilian were to look at them or Lt. Matheson…"

"Why Matheson?" Dureena asked, suddenly wary.

"What is Lt. Matheson's psi rating, Matthew?" Galen continued, ignoring Dureena's question.

"P5 I think. Not very high as psi ratings go. Why?" Gideon frowned as he watched the Technomage start to circle the portraits, examining them even more closely than he had before.

"There is something here, Matthew. Something my technomancy cannot identify. Perhaps…" he stopped again in front of the Swordsman's painting and reached out to brush a fleck of dust from the face of the canvas. Suddenly, a feeling of incredible power enveloped him, surrounding him with sights and sounds he knew were not from his present reality. He could smell a burning wood fire, hear the screams of dying men and feel the cold weight of a sword in his hand. It was as though he were looking out at a scene from Hell through someone else's eyes. Bodies littered a landscape he had never seen. A tall, shrouded figure stood before him, baring his way. He could here a low, hissing voice from behind him yet could not make out its words. Whoever he was in this reality was coldly satisfied with the devastation before him, seeing it as a job well done. The figure turned and he found himself looking into the eyes of the Dark Lady, eyes full of pity and sadness. "Stop, swordsman. There are no more left for you to punish. The last of them is for me." He could hear a voice, his voice, reply "They deserved what punishment they received." She put out her hand and laid it gently on his chest. Then suddenly, as suddenly as it had begun, the vision was over. Galen stepped back from the portrait with a gasp.

"Galen? Are you alright?" Gideon moved forward to support his friend, who swayed suddenly unsteady on his feet.

"No, Matthew. I'm not all right. For a moment, he and I were one. I could see what he had seen. Somehow this portrait acted as a conduit for his memories to my mind." Galen shook his head and took a deep breath. "Matthew, I think we need to re-examine what is happening here. I fear Dr. Grey has no idea of the power he could unleash if he actually makes his petition."

Selma Grey stared at the two men in disbelief. "Are you saying Herodotus theories are true?" she asked, scornfully. "That these images can bring back beings from another time? You're as mad as he is."

"I'm not mad." Herodotus interjected, bounding up to the group with long candles in his hands. "And I can prove it to you. Here, set these up in a circle around the paintings. Everything must be arranged just perfectly so that they will feel welcome when they come." He thrust some of the tapers at Dureena and Sarah and scampered off for more.

"Matthew, you can not allow him to do this." Galen insisted. "He does not know what he is unleashing."

"Do you?" Sarah asked, impatiently.

"No. But I know enough to believe that this is a very dangerous thing he is attempting."

"What did you see when the Swordsman's memories were flowing into you?" Dureena asked, setting the candles on the tables beside the canvases.

"A war zone. Bodies everywhere. And an evil presence so close I could smell it." He turned and looked at the portraits again, stopping in front of the female figure. "She was there too. She called me "Swordsman" and said that there were no more left for him to punish, that the last of "them" – whoever "they" were – was for her. It was something she had said to him in another time."

"Was he responsible for the death around him?" Dureena pressed on, ignoring Selma Grey's exasperated look.

"Yes, I think he was. And I don't think he much cared." Galen looked back at his doppelganger with a frown. "I'm not sure he cared about anything at all."

"Look, as fascinating as Galen's experience sounds, there has to be a logical explanation for it. We can look into it later. Right now, we have to do something with Dr. Gray." Sarah laid her own candles down beside the portrait of the "Mage" and stood frowning at the group. "Any suggestions?"

"Let him do his little voodoo ceremony and when nothing happens maybe he'll be more amenable to talking about helping with the plague." Gideon looked quizzically at Galen. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Matthew, hasn't anyone ever warned you not to ask that question?" Galen replied, somberly. "I think it is a bad idea to allow this, but I also fear that nothing any of us can say to the man will change his mind. So perhaps it is best for us to stay and watch over him, in case the worst does happen."

"You really mean to let my husband go through with this lunacy? This is madness! I won't have it!" Selma snatched up a candleholder and charged at one of the portraits, swinging wildly. "These horrible paintings! I should have burned them when I had the chance!"

Dureena grabbed the older woman's arm and pulled her gently away. Sarah joined them, trying to calm her upset friend. "Selma, calm down. These are just canvases. They don't have any special power. Destroying them won't bring Herodotus back from wherever his mind has gone. Trust us. Once he's seen that nothing comes of his little experiment, then maybe he'll be more willing to talk about getting some help." She hugged the sobbing woman closely.

Herodotus entered the room at that moment, carrying more candles and flowers from the garden. He ignored his wife's tears and proceeded to set the candles in the room in a circle, lighting each and muttering a prayer as he went. The flowers he laid at the foot of the Dark Lady's portrait then stepped back, closing the circle with one last candle. "I call on you, great Immortals, to come back to the world of Men. Come back Dark Lady and bring with you your Lords, your Mage, your Phoenix Lord and he who serves as your Swordsman. One of your children petitions you, Lords of Magic, to push back the curtain of time and space and step forward in to your former realm. Come to us, Magic Ones, we beseech you."

Galen stepped back with a hiss as the glow he had seen before began to grow in intensity. "Matthew, do you see what is happening?"

Gideon also stepped back, his PPG in his hand. "Yes. Any ideas what it is we're seeing?"

"A portal is opening, Matthew. But a portal to where?" The Technomage watched grimly as the light enveloped the portraits, then turned away as its intensity blinded the rooms occupants. He could see nothing but the light yet in the center of the brightness he could just hear voices, speaking in a language he had never heard. A woman laughed and a man joined her in the joke. He could feel someone grasping his shoulder and a man's voice in his ear "I have no surviving enemies either, little brother. It's brought me no more peace than it has you." Then suddenly the light was gone.

Herodotus Grey cried out in anguish. The four paintings were gone. All that remained inside the circle was a small heap of flowers, now wilted and dying. His invitation had been rejected.