The Pendulum Breaks: Pendulum Heroes, #4

By James Beamon

Mike's done with this life.

 

He's tired of mages and portals, a brother who's a warrior woman, and his own scarred up little megrym body. Now he's got an army at his back. This time, when he wants to take the Rift Pendulum home, better nobody even think to tell him no.

 

Even though the Pendulum War is over, there are still forces out there bent to stop him. Druze Wozencraft's body is under witchlock but his immortal mind is ever active. Delv Verayn, feared among mages as the Dire Blue, is in the wind. And Enverpasha is marching on the aians to seize Nasreddin, threatening the new and fragile peace.

 

Don't none of that matter. Mike's either going to go home or die trying. No more delays. No middle ground.

 

It is what it is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Beamon
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781732386273

James Beamon

James Beamon is a science fiction and fantasy author whose short stories have appeared in places such as Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine, Apex, Lightspeed and Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show.  He spent twelve years in the Air Force, deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, and is in possession of the perfect buffalo wings recipe that he learned from carnies.  He currently lives in Virginia with his wife, son and attack cat.  He's serious about the attack cat... do not point at it.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Restful Measure

Rew Majora checked her appearance for the umpteenth time in the mirror. Her black tresses were styled in an upside braided updo, the hair spilling down around a gold tiara. The tiara glittered with brilliant gemstones: white diamond, black onyx, blue sapphire, red ruby, purple amethyst, green jade, orange citrine, yellow topaz, and smoky gray quartz. They represented the schools of magic the Hierophane recognized. Her immaculate white and purple gown, once the symbol of royalty when kings once ruled, now represented her authority as Hierophant and the voice chosen on behalf of the independent peoples of the Free States.

Yes, she looked ready. But looking the part wasn’t necessarily the same as feeling the part. One month didn’t seem long enough since her coup against her father for it to feel wholly cemented. Now was not the best time to leave the Hierophane, not that she had much choice. She could practically taste her unease.

Iyona! she called. The chamber door opened and in strode the headmistress of the blue school of magic.

Hierophant? Iyona bowed. Her brown eyes, brown skin and black hair made a pleasant contrast against the cobalt blue of her robes.

I’m leaving imminently, Rew told her. Double the guard on my father while I’m away.

Yes, Hierophant.

The words calmed her a touch. An overwhelming majority of mages respected the office of hierophant more than the person who held the office. Anyone who was specifically loyal to Druze above all else would be a tiny majority. Still, overcautiousness prevented more escapes than overconfidence. Thinking of mages overly loyal to her father made her invariably think of one blue robe in particular.

And of Vereyn?

Iyona shook her head. The Dire Blue is still in the wind. We feel we have narrowed down his presence to one quadrant of the Hierophane, but I confess the search continues. He literally wrote the book on altering perception.

Thank you, Iyona. That will be all.

Iyona bowed and excused herself. The blue mage’s departure brought another touch of relief to Rew. She knew it wasn’t Iyona’s fault, a woman she genuinely liked, but it was hard to tolerate the presence of the mind benders after what Delv Vereyn had done to her. But she had little choice but to surround herself with blue after she let that maggot escape. The most apt to detect blue magic glamor were blue mages and she didn’t trust herself enough with the business of running the Hierophane to rely on her own training and senses.

She was about to fuss with her hair yet again but instead she put her hands back down to her sides and forced a deep breath. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. Perhaps she’d even see Rich.

"Achik, she intoned to the mirror in front of her. The Temple of Houses."

Her picture faded and before her stood Ananna, the goddess of the Third House. Her eight spiderlike dreadlocks hung passively as she regarded Rew with unreadable eyes.

Are you ready, Hierophant Majora? she asked.

Indeed, goddess.

Ananna looked to someone off-mirror. Lower the ward, she commanded.

Your will done, someone replied. The ward is down.

Ananna returned her focus to Rew. We are ready to receive you.

Rew bowed in acknowledgement and cut the mirror feed. She opened a portal, stepped into the shimmering blue-white light, and emerged at the entry gates of the Temple of Houses.

She found herself surrounded by High Fane Armsguardsmen. At least they retained enough diplomatic tact to not immediately draw their weapons, although all of them seemed poised to strike. Directly in front of her stood the squid god Menanderus. He wore a highly formal robe that changed color from amber orange to rich violet depending on how the light struck it.

Welcome welcome, mage master, Menanderus said, his four miniscule tentacles under his nose, like a broom mustache, bristling as he talked. Unlike the followers of his house he alone had ears that resembled squid fins.

I am extremely well met, Rew replied looking around at the contingent of armed personnel.

A minor, minor precaution, mage master, Menanderus said. See, see, there were mages before you, mages not you, who would use this opportunity with our ward down to portal into beloved Nasreddin, yes, attack us with our open arms and raze our temple, and we love that temple. Perfectly understandable we prevent that possibility from being possible, at least we here understand that it is understandable. Do you understand? Of course you do, you being mage master. See? You are most, most welcome, lady of the tower.

Indeed, Rew couldn’t help but smile. Menanderus, the Misfit, the Seizing Grasp of Opportunity, Ally of the Eccentric was always one of the most affable of the twelve. It was probably no small reason why he was the one to meet her at the gate.

She spared a moment to stare up at the Temple of Houses. It was without doubt in the worst state of disrepair she had ever seen in her three hundred plus years, what with a section of it sliced completely off from Rich’s magic and Druze’s attack leaving a bit of the highest part blown out and charred. She looked down to the city of Nasreddin below and saw the obscenely large crater Druze had created in the city’s center. On either end of the crater, bodies dangled, impaled on poles. One was demonic, a monstrous four-armed aian with the head of a giant, black-eyed ant. This was the body Delv had used to attack the temple, channeling the twisted power of Onus to maximize the destruction. The other body marking the distant end of the crater was the human shell Druze had possessed to ruin the city, the Razzleblad body that reminded Rew powerfully of Rich.

Rew didn’t know how long the Holy Aian Empire had displayed these bodies. She did know they were forged of pure magic. They would not decompose. At some indeterminable point in the future the magic that kept them constituted would fail and they would simply no longer be.

Transgressors, yes, spurious transgressors, Menanderus said as he tracked her gaze. One of ours plus one of yours equals bad math in sour times. Would you like to follow me, mage master Majora? Yes, yes, I’m even better at leading than I am at math. Will you indulge me?

Rew returned her attention to Menanderus. Of course.

Surrounded by the armsguard detail, Rew followed the god through the Temple of Houses. Unsurprising, it had changed very little through the course of the war. The rooms, halls and vaulted ceilings were intricately carved into the mountainside, the gardens and landscaping made to incorporate and utilize the waterfall from the Heavensway River spilling down into the temple before continuing on through Nasreddin proper. The temple had a living breathing quality to it that made it seem impervious to changing times and mortal matters. Despite Holy Aian Empire propaganda, Rew believed the nasran claim that they built the site... the perfect precision spoke to her of an artisanal devotion to magic.

While Rew was unsurprised at the continued timelessness of the Temple of Houses, she was surprised by where Menanderus led her. It was not the throne room where she had always been received every time she officially came to the High Fane. It was a quaint, quiet corner of the temple on one of the highest floors. Menanderus turned to face Rew. He held his arms up at the guard flanking Rew and his hands changed into tentacles, four protruding from each arm. The tentacles made a shooing motion.

Perfect armsguarding even if I have the best arms, thank you, thank you. Please return to your normal duties armsing, guarding, both but never neither, please never neither stay vigilant, bye now.

Your will done, all the guards intoned as a chorus. They about-faced and marched off to parts unknown. Menanderus’ tentacles changed back to hands and he put a finger to his lips, which made for a strange sight as the broom mustache tentacles bristled.

We ask kindly for your discretion, for a time, brief time, briefest for us yet and still immortals can’t keep secrets forever, a terrible strain on lips that seek to share juicy bits as they tend to be juicier than dry daily bits and you are immortal like us so we all understand time wears secrets down, true social erosion, but please, keep this to yourself until our formal announcement. Can you agree?

Rew nodded. If what you disclose has no adverse impact on the Free States, then I have no problem keeping silent.

Capital capital, Menanderus said. He opened the ornate wooden door and beckoned Rew inside.

The scene was shocking. She couldn’t actually tell what kind of room she was in within the temple because her view was blocked by the virtually complete pantheon of aian gods and goddesses standing before her. Rew had never in all her centuries seen them all gathered together in one place, and all of them in their most regal attire. Menanderus took his position in the empty space between the chameleon goddess Sen of the Seventh House and the cat god Nadi of the Ninth House.

The goddess Marad began the half circle on the left, followed by Ananna, Baligoz, Yol (who was uncharacterisically silent), Sen, Menanderus, Nadi, Eula, with the circle ending with the extremely reclusive goddess Zemishurus of the Eleventh House. She didn’t expect to see Demir, as she had never seen the lost god of the First House, nor had anyone else in at least a thousand years. Naturally, Onus of Twelfth House was absent. Still something was off. That’s when she noticed the empty space between Ananna the Weaver and Baligoz the Watcher.

Otam of the Fourth House. The god who Druze had pushed so much magical pressure into that the result reduced whole blocks of Nasreddin into a blast crater.

Rew lost her diplomatic composure in the shock of the realization, bringing a hand up to her now open mouth. Ananna, regal in her blue silkweave gown and usually as regal in her demeanor, gave Rew a look that held a plea in her bouncing aian eyes.

We have need of you, Lady Majora.

Ananna and Baligoz parted further, revealing a space that was more grotto than room. Half of it was smoothed and polished stone, a large yet cozy bedroom carved out of the mountain. Dividing the bedroom half from the other was a waterfall instead of a wall and through the broken streams of water spilling down, Rew could see a quaint pond and garden enclosed by rough mountain rock. Lying on the bed of this beautiful, tranquil place, clothed in brilliant white, was the god Otam.

Rew took steps toward the supine god. His eyes were closed and the god was unmoving, even his brown mohawk hair was eerily still.

Is he...? Rew asked a question she couldn’t bring herself to finish.

We are not certain, Ananna answered. His body seems to have a hold onto life. It is not cold. Yet our brother does not stir, does not sweat, nor waste away for lack of food or water. We are not even certain he breathes the temple’s blessed mountain air. For a full month he has been thus. It is a thing none of us have seen among our kind, a thing most unnatural. Perhaps, Rew Majora, you in your undying have seen this condition and can help our dear brother.

Rew nodded her consent. Outside of Druze, the aian gods were the only people in her long life that persisted. She had gotten to know them all in her centuries, their flaws, foibles, charms and strengths. That in itself made them close, the closest thing to extended family one such as her could have. She was loath to lose any of them.

She placed a hand on Otam’s chest. It did not rise for air, nor could she feel his heartbeat. Yet, just as Ananna spoke, the body seemed living. Rew gently pulled open an eyelid. The pupil did not dilate but it held a familiar glint that gave Rew pause.

She looked up at Ananna. I have seen something similar among my kind. We call it cost broken.

Cost broken? Ananna asked.

Before Rew could explain Zemishurus raised a slender finger of her claw-like hand.

Cost broken. When a mage draws too heavily from the blessed Onesource, pushing beyond typical failsafes such as physical exhaustion or loss of mental focus in their sustained use of magic. Renders the afflicted mage into a perpetual hibernation state, often characterized by intense twitching, furrowing of brows and pained expressions in sleep.

Correct, Rew replied. Zemishurus was called the Recluse, Exhumer of Unearthed Truth, Guide of Knowledge Seekers for no small reason. The most studious of the pantheon, Rew was quite convinced the goddess had read every book in existence for the past two thousand years.

What makes you say this, Ananna asked. He shows no symptoms of being this ‘cost broken,’ none of the twitching or writhing. And Aians don’t cast magic. How can he even be cost broken?

I am unsure of anything, goddess, except his eyes show the same signs as the broken mages we have studied in the Hierophane. Rew thought carefully for a moment. Your declared covenant with the Onesource, your immortal state of existence, the ability to distribute your house marks across all of aiankind, this is magic in its own right. Perhaps your physical immortal being is a perpetual call upon the Onesource and as such having that being taxed incurs its own cost. She paused and let out a resigned sigh. Otam’s physical form was pushed far beyond what was conscionable. If the bodies of the gods are indeed tethered to the Onesource then it is possible the destructive blast drew a cost that overtaxed Otam.

Ananna’s fingers touched Rew’s wrist. The eyes of the goddess held an expression that Rew could scarcely ever remember the Queen of Spiders showing... concern.

Can you wake him, Rew? Bring him back to us.

Rew found herself choking back her own emotion, shaking her head as she looked Ananna in her evermoving, questing eyes.

There is no magic that can end a cost break. Every remedy we’ve ever tried to apply invariably does more harm than good.

Ananna’s voice was a near whisper. Will he ever awaken?

Rew felt her own eyes welling up. No mage has ever come out of the costbreak in their lifetime.

Pah! Yol spat. He strode over to Otam, imperious in his bronze ceremonial armor. My brother is a god! Hewn of stouter stuff than cloth-bred mages. You dare draw comparison?! Do not talk to me of human weakness.

Yol closed the distance to Rew. The rogue gray robe is gone, but his Hierophant planned this. You will deliver your father to me for justice, he said, the anger in his eyes unmistakable. Or those closest to him will pay for his crimes.

Before Rew’s flash of anger ignited her speech, a husky, feminine voice spoke behind her. No, they won’t.

The goddess Marad took a step forward. Much like her hair of green braids with black tips, her gown was exquisitely patterned in black and green. The fabric’s pattern matched the Boomslang, a highly poisonous snake, almost as venomous as the stare she now held for her brother.

You’re mad because Druze Wozencraft took the threat of this Empire seriously and employed a strategy that left us all reeling. Feel it was abhorrent? Wasn’t fair? Tough. It was war. Gives you no leave to threaten our guest. We make peace today. I urge you to make yours, brother.

Yol’s jaw tightened, but no words came in response to his sister. He turned briskly, his cape flourishing as he gave Rew her personal space back.

Ananna nodded and gave Rew a rare smile. My sister is right. The rogue mage Razzleblad is dead, as well as the false Chosen One. The temple and the tower makes peace today.

She looked around the room, to the assembled pantheon. And Brother Yol is also right. Our brother Otam is stout. He merely slumbers, communing with the blessed Onesource. Let us declare the day of 17 Februz Reflection Day, a day of meditation, rest and introspection in reflection of the day Otam began his new, sacred practice. Agreed?

All the gods and goddesses nodded solemnly. Ananna grabbed Rew’s hand and patted it once before resting her gray hand on top of Rew’s.

Please, come with us to the ceremony, she said.

Rew followed the gods and goddesses out of the room. She spared a glance back to Otam. Only then did she realize that the goddess Sen had remained behind. Known as the Hidden, the Shroud of Veil, Sanctuary of the Solitary, the goddess wore a simple, tasteful black gown. Seemingly unconcerned with where the other gods were going, Sen leaned over and was kissing the sleeping Otam on his forehead as Rew continued to walk away from the room.

Chapter 2

Peaces in Pieces

Mel discovered that , like everything else in life, forcing a smile became easier with practice. She hardly noticed she did it this last time, almost as if it was instinct, when a couple of military generals in service dress came over.

You all must be the honored guests of Most Revered Eula, Keeper of the Tenth House in the Everlasting Temple of Houses, the house that bears her name, the one with the Yol marks said, first shaking Ruki Provos’ hand firmly before gently lifting Mel’s.

This general may not have been so gentle if he could feel her rough calluses underneath the elbow length white gloves. But the gloves, the powder blue dress and raven tresses beautifully styled to come up then over one side of her head and adorned with cowry shells did wonders to hide her warrior aesthetic.

We are indeed the honored guests of the goddess, Ruki Provos replied, his brilliant smile coming freely and fiercely. Mel imagined this was the man’s natural habitat: an exclusive dinner party, a stunning open courtyard full of exotic flowers, hors d'oeuvres and everyone dressed sharp enough to cut feelings.

Ruki, living the dream, wore knee high heather gray leather boots, brown pants with matching vest, heather gray overcoat and a white shirt which was one ruffle shy of being a blouse. He thankfully did the bulk of the talking, allowing Mel to stay largely in her own head.

Too bad a persistent thought in that head was that of her friend, a man she had gotten marooned in this world and shared her quest to return home with, the first and only person she had ever been intimate with, whose dead body was right outside this temple, impaled and on display before the entire city.

She shook the image out of her head. He got captured. She couldn’t even begin to help because she was stuck in a waterlogged Suusteren dealing with a demented gray robe at the time. A murderous rampage right now wasn’t going to change that. All she had to do was smile occasionally and let Ruki—again, thankfully—do the talking.

Enjoy the new peace, friends, Ruki said, waving as they departed. He leaned close to Mel, concern on his face.

How are you holding up?

Good, she lied. You make it easier, she admitted.

The smile he gave her was genuine, touching the corners of his eyes. Glad to be of service. Think of it this way, you’re one dinner party away from going home.

Wish it was that simple, Mel said. I gotta wait on my brother.

Jason was dead at the bottom of an abyss. Rich was dead on display. All Mel had left was Mike and she’d be damned if she’d leave without him. She talked to him daily on the mirror and he seemed sure they’d be out of that stupid Sprawl desert any day now. She wouldn’t even try to convince him to ditch the army he had built and just high tail it because her brother had a point. Better to demand your way home than to ask pretty please.

A tray of exotic snacks floated by. That’s when an ash gray hand reached between the two of them for edibles.

"Maybe you gotta wait, Gina said, her brown hair pressed to lay like a blanket down her back, setting contrast to her fire red dress. She grabbed half the tray’s snacks. Soon as peace is officially declared, I’m rolling out with this hierophant and putting the deuces up on all of this. These sausages are major win, though."

The server was about to depart when Calais reached out and grabbed damn near the rest, leaving two.

And while we’re still ‘esteemed guests’, she said esteemed guests in a way that clearly meant pretty much prisoners and popped a sausage into her mouth only to talk around it a moment later. Nutwition is pawamount.

Calais’ frizzy hair was a black, woolly sunburst framing her face, a wild, rebellious mane that somehow wasn’t out of place in this refined atmosphere. The same couldn’t be said for the crumbs on her yellow dress.

Ruki Provos snatched up the last two snacks from the tray. Better enjoy my sense of taste before this woman makes my tongue fall out next time she cures someone of a speech impediment.

Having never been a fan of witchcraft, Ruki made it a point to remind their resident witch he wasn’t keen to be in her pool of costshares, even if it had helped get him away from a drowning city and a demented gray robe.

Calais looked wistful. If only they made magic strong enough to shut you up.

Their exchange brought a genuine smile to Mel’s face. It was truly these friends of hers that had gotten her through this past month. After the defeat of the gray robe, the aians moved into Suusteren and Eula brought them to the capital as honored guests. While they had been treated well, leaving the city was problematic. Portal dampening wards were employed across the empire and roving nasran guerillas rampaged through the countryside. Couple that with the battery of questions the gods had plied all of them ad nauseum about the fate of the fake Chosen One and it all lent to a sense that the four of them dwelt in the blurry space between guest and captive.

Funny enough, this wasn’t the first time Mel found herself here, as an ill-defined guest of the temple. Talk about coming full circle. She shook her head. Roll with the punches. She plucked the last sausage from Ruki’s fingers and popped it into her mouth with a smile. His lips curled into a little pout.

Nutrition, Calais chimed in before Ruki could fashion a response to the theft. Paramount.

The mirthful air was broken by a chorus of brassy trumpets. Everyone turned their attention to the dais in the center of the garden courtyard where a lone aian from House Baligoz stood.

Prepare yourselves for the arrival of the official party! he announced so loud it made Mel curious if having gills could somehow help project one’s voice.

Ok, Ruki whispered. I bow, you all curtsy.

What? Mel asked. How the hell do you curtsy?

Not a fan of old movies? Gina asked. My Fair Lady? The Bad Seed? Hell, I Love Lucy, the curtsy episode? After Mel shrugged sheepishly, Gina wagged a finger. Oh! Frozen!

Mel looked crossly at Gina. I was a teenage black guy in my old life.

Ok, just one foot behind the other, bend your knees, pinch your dress with two fingers on each side, lower your head, like this.

Gina demonstrated in a swan-like gesture that was unquestionably graceful. So why when Mel tried to repeat the gesture she felt like a crippled duck that had gotten paused mid flap? As the man on the dais loudly belted out the names and titles of the official party, Mel felt herself wobbling. Or maybe she was imagining herself wobble. This felt like a position one should only hold for a moment, like the space between sword lunges or a spinning slash.

Please don’t lose your balance, she told herself. Titles and titles and yet more titles of the gods, they just kept coming. Why?! Everyone already knows who you are just from your name... why do you have to drop every handle, a.k.a., alias and callsign you picked up from millenia of doing shit?!

She ventured a look from the corner of her eye to Ruki beside her. His bow was crisp, a sly grin on his face as he surreptitiously shot her a glance. Realization dawned on Mel that feminism and the relentless march for gender equality back home must have started here, with this stupid curtsy. It certainly made her want to fight.

Rise and observe the official party! the announcer boomed, bringing an end to Mel’s torture. She returned to blessed, full verticality and took in the array of aian gods on the dais, along with a contingent of mages of various colors of robes that were belted and creased so they appeared more formal, including Rew Majora in a gown that was made to resemble a more elegant version of her hierophant robes. Everyone in the courtyard started clapping, so Mel followed suit.

If you could have seen yourself, Ruki teased leaning over to Mel as he clapped. You look like you’d rather fight a death cult.

Certainly would’ve been faster, Mel replied.

Ananna took a step forward on the dais, raising her hands to silence the applause.

Dear citizens of both the Holy Empire and the Free States, we come to you today with wonderful news and cause to celebrate. Not only has the rogue mage Razzleblad paid in blood for the desecration of our most sacred temple, but the false Chosen One has met his demise, fitting payment for his blasphemy. Why, there are even first hand accounts that testify to the demise of Onus himself. We face a bright and shining future free of the Corrupter as well as one free of hostility with the peoples of the Free States.

Ananna turned to look at Hierophant Majora, who took a position beside the Queen of Spiders. Gathered citizens, you are the first to witness a new resolution. Both our states move forward without hostility, free of aggression. Today is the first day of peace between temple and tower. May it be peace everlasting.

Peace Everlasting! the crowd cheered. Even Ruki and Calais, who somehow knew to repeat it without a prompt.

Man, this is a trip, Gina said, her cat ears perking up as she looked at the crowd.

Ruki raised a surprised eyebrow. This is how every nation declares peace. How do you do it where you’re from?

Gina shook her head. That’s the thing. We never declare peace.

Ruki’s skeptical eyes panned over to Mel, who could only shrug. It’s never happened in my lifetime.

Once again the trumpets sounded, which transitioned into sustained festive music. The gods and mages stepped off the dais and began to shake hands and parlay with the guests.

Rew Majora and a handful of mages of assorted color were being escorted around to different parties by Ananna and the squid god. Rew panned the crowd occasionally as if she was looking for someone specific, and she gave Mel the briefest of nods before turning her smile and attention to whoever was in front of her shaking her hand. It seemed she would be rubbing elbows for a while yet. Eula apparently didn’t have the same social demands, probably one of those unadvertised benefits of being a goddess, and came right over to Mel and the gang.

Eula’s dress was a perfect imitation of the wings folded behind her back, smoky gray with vivid red lines framed in contrasting white and splashes of purple. Her blonde hair, set in large cascading curls, reminded Mel of artwork of Greek goddesses. Eula’s eyes danced more than usual for aians as she smiled warmly at the lot of them.

Dearest friends, she said. "You all cannot begin to know how happy