Prometheus Road by Bruce Balfour Page B

a gnarled hand dropped onto his shoulder. He spun around to see the cloaked figure of Death standing there, holding a confused little dog that looked remarkably like Helix. When Death pushed his hood back, Tom was relieved to see the face of Magnus Prufrock, who gave him a slight smile.
    “You’re always so jumpy. You should try to relax, boy.”
    Helix growled softly.
    “Magnus. You really came for me.”
    Magnus shrugged. “I knew you’d be here sooner or later, so I asked some of my friends to keep an eye out for you and let me know when you arrived. You’ve met Blythe, I see.”
    “Good morning, Magnus,” Blythe said. “Tom has been very entertaining. And now I’ve got something new to talk about with the others.”
    Magnus nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Blythe. If anyone else comes by asking about Tom, just say you never saw him. Have a good rest, and we’ll visit again soon.”
    “Anytime, Magnus. I look forward to it.”
    Magnus started to lead Tom away from the angel, but Tom stopped for a final look. “I’ll be back, too, Blythe. Thank you for the kind words.”
    Blythe spread her wings and winked. “It’s a date, Tom Eliot. I’ll be here waiting for you.”
    As they walked away, the white angel stretched out her legs, rolled over, and draped herself over the tomb in a mourning position, just as Tom had found her. Tom’s heart still ached, but some of the hollowness he’d felt when he arrived at this place had gone, his spirits lifted by a young woman who had died long before he was ever born. Whatever she was now, or might have once been, she had managed to connect with him and make a friend after death, and that gave him hope. Maybe he would see his family again.
    Tom looked sideways at Magnus. “You planned it this way, didn’t you? You predicted what would happen to my family, and you thought talking to Blythe would help me. That’s why you wanted to meet here.”
    The old man wouldn’t look at him as he placed Helix in Tom’s arms and pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head. “Magnus works in mysterious ways, boy. You’d do well to remember that.”

Prometheus Road
     5
    THE hooves of the armored black horse clop-clopped against the cobblestones in a slow and steady rhythm, throwing sparks where they struck the road. Its breath steamed from its nostrils in the cold air. The rider wore black leather and black armor, his upper body covered with spikes and curved cutting blades. Steel points studded the backs of his gauntlets where they gripped the reins. A broadsword with a hilt made from a human skull hung from his waist. Except for the white eyes that shone like headlights in the dark and twisted landscape, his face was hidden beneath a battle helm, but his identity was clear from the pulsing ID icon ball that floated just above the horns on his helm—Telemachus, Lord of the Western Protectorate, Nova Olympus Command Region, Uplift Zone 949.
    High overhead, slow fireworks wove spiderweb data trails across the dark sky of Stronghold, vanishing as they swirled into quantum data pools. On the scorched earth below, shambling creatures moved from shadow to shadow or lurked within drifting patches of ground fog, maintaining a safe distance from the road until they could group together for an attack.
    As Telemachus watched, brilliant neon lines of color approached at high speed above the road, then slowed and coalesced into six armored riders on fierce horses, the icon balls above their battle helms identifying them as North American regional commanders. Alioth, in dark blue armor that glowed with an inner light, rode at the head of the group, the sky-blue lamps of his eyes locked on Telemachus.
    In theory, all of the regional commanders had equal powers, but Alioth had always been designated as the tie breaker, voting last when group decisions had to be made, and that gave him an aura of power that none of the others could match. Alioth also held direct control over the traditional