“Could be what the sim is telling you to feel.”

  “I know my body, Royal. I felt that blade cut open my leg. I felt my chest on fire when you shot me for no reason.”

  “Eh. It won’t be the last time somebody kills you.”

  Moon draped his hand over the laser pistol in his holster.

  “Maybe I should open a hole or two in your chest.”

  Royal cleared his throat and spit a wad of saliva at Moon’s feet.

  “That’s the spirit. Moon, the cocky little bastard.”

  “I’m serious, Royal. You don’t think I’m ready because I haven’t shot moving targets.”

  “Makes a difference, sure enough. Hell, I wouldn’t mind if you took me down, except for one little issue.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be gone for ten, twelve minutes. What happens if the test starts while I’m trapped inside the abyss? Can you handle those Destroyers by yourself?”

  “I can stall, if I have to.”

  Royal crossed his arms, not worried about Moon’s threat.

  “Your regen takes twenty-five seconds. You’re a hell of an upgrade, Moon. But twenty-five seconds is a long time. Enough to lop off your head.”

  “They won’t go that far. They don’t mean to kill us for good.”

  “It’s not a real test if there’s nothing at stake. We get to live forever until we don’t. Maybe those are the stakes.”

  “You don’t think they made us walk for months just to kill us.”

  Royal spotted a school of bait fish swimming in the eddy.

  “Gingerbread promised we’d find Bessios. Said it from day one.”

  “You don’t think it’s real.”

  “Real ain’t the word you’re looking for.” Royal pointed across the wide-open field of sparse, knee-high grass. “Maybe it’s right there. Maybe all that shit’s an illusion. They’re staring at us from the gates of the city, wondering what kind of morons hang out for hours playing with guns when they got nobody to shoot. Maybe th …”

  Moon stepped out of the river and advanced.

  “I think they’re here.”

  I stand corrected.

  Two tall, dark figures emerged amid the high grasses a hundred meters away. They didn’t blink into existence, nor did they appear to rise from the ground. Royal looked skyward for a moment. If he was right …

  “Here’s what we’re gonna do, Moon.”

  The Hokki reached into the chest. He slung a blast rifle over his left shoulder and tucked a pair of old-fashioned handguns into his holster. Royal sighed.

  “Remember what I taught you: The best weapon feels like it belongs. Make your choice and keep it simple, Moon.”

  “Got it. We sticking to the same plan? There’s only two.”

  “Let’s spread out. Ten meters either way. Don’t you do a damn thing until we know their play. Go with the plan on my mark.”

  “Got it. Good luck, Royal.”

  Royal laughed on the run.

  “Luck! Who does that little asshole think he is?”

  The tall, dark Destroyers approached at a methodical pace, hands at their side, twitching.

  Neither resembled what Royal thought as of killers.

  A skinny man wore a black pinstripe suit, including vest and bowtie, and sported a bowl-shaped cap with a narrow brim. A monocle sat above his right eye, connected to his ear by a chain. His mustache resembled a smudge beneath his nostrils. He stared at Royal with disinterest, as if he knew victory was guaranteed.

  The second, husky man flashed a brown leather trench coat above shoes with a glistening polish. He wore a full beard and a floppy, wide-brimmed hat that shaded his features. Whatever weapons he packed, he hid beneath the coat. He focused on Moon.

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a for-ta mu si qu-zow?”

  The skinny man spoke with a deep, rough-hewn accent which did not match his demeanor. Royal took a few seconds to realize he was listening to a language other than Engleshe. If this was a simulation, why didn’t he hear a translation?

  “Sorry, fella. I know one language. Try again.”

  The Destroyers stared at each other then at Royal. They repeated the maneuver before turning to Moon. Trench coat man spoke.

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a for-ta mu si qu-zow?”

  Moon stood ready to draw. He shouted.

  “What do I say, Royal?”

  “Fuck if I know. They’re playing with us. You ready?”

  “I’m good, Royal. Give the word.”

  As gunslingers went, Royal had seen worse. The kid showed no sign of retreat. That might have made Royal proud, but these so-called Destroyers took a wide stance thirty meters away, hands close to the draw, faces revealing no emotion. Not even a sense of anticipation.

  No fucking fear at all.

  Royal scanned the field. No one else approached. It was two on two, but it felt off. Way off.

  What am I missing? If they’re just …

  Royal didn’t have time to explore a new strategy.

  Moon drew his weapons. He fired a laser pistol with each hand. Bursts of green energy pegs raced past trench coat man. Moon’s aim wasn’t worth shit, after all.

  The kid didn’t let up. He advanced on the man until the pegs hit their target.

  And then bounced away.

  Trench coat man stood there without expression, unimpressed, a shield flashing blue each time it deflected a peg.

  Royal didn’t have time to say “Drop!” before the Destroyer reached inside his coat and unleashed hell in one blistering move. He fired a monstrous black weapon, rat-tatting as it discharged a plague of bullets.

  Moon danced as the bullets tore threw him. He collapsed like a wet sack upon the rocks.

  “Fuck me.”

  Royal aimed his blast rifle at the trench coat man, who tucked his own weapon away and brushed some dust off his shoulder.

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a for-ta mu si qu-zow?”

  The skinny man repeated his incomprehensible words.

  “I reckon this ain’t gonna be a fair fight.”

  Royal anticipated the next few seconds and his own response.

  He unleashed the blast rifle’s projectiles onto the skinny man, hitting with pinpoint accuracy. As expected, the pegs deflected in every direction. Yet before the man retaliated, Royal ran.

  He sprayed the weapon at both Destroyers side-saddle as he cut a wide berth through the field. He flanked them both then zig-zagged. The skinny man returned fire, grazing Royal’s left thigh. Royal did not break stride as he created more distance. His aim wasn’t as precise, but neither was the enemy. Only the skinny man showed interest in killing him, but he pursued Royal with a casual gait.

  Though Royal did not count in his head, he anticipated Moon’s rapid recovery. The kid sat up in time for the trench coat man to notice.

  Moon reached for his rifle a split second before the Destroyer put two bullets in his head.

  The skinny man stopped firing long enough to remove his monocle.

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a for-ta mu si qu-zow?”

  Royal dropped as a new barrage of bullets cruised above him. From the ground, he set aim at the creature twenty meters away. He changed weapons and went with the conventional pistol, which had ten bullets in its cartridge. Perhaps the shield resisted energy weapons but not …

  You stupid fuck. This won’t work.

  He fired anyway.

  His aim was true, but the skinny man advanced undeterred.

  These weren’t men with shields. They weren’t men, immortal or otherwise. They had appeared like Gingerbread, assembled in seconds from silver drops of rain.

  What was their purpose? Were they supposed to teach a lesson? Drive home a point Gingerbread had tried to make without success? Or were they part of a game? Maybe the creatures who lived among those protostars enjoyed playing with their food.

  Royal blamed himself. He didn’t listen. He never listened.

  Amayas Knight told him not to tether to Beta universe, that the future he saw on Hokkaido wasn’t fixed. But no. Royal was a master of the mirrors. It would all work out just fucking fine.

  Come on, asshole. What am I missing?

  He thought back to Gingerbread’s own words.

  “More of your kind are waiting, Royal. I wish you good fortune.”

  Fortune. Luck. No. I don’t do luck. I make my fortune.

  “They’re men and women just like you, Royal. Most from humble beginnings, but bound by a common talent.”

  These things aren’t men and women and they aren’t just like me.

  “If this is the Prelude, and you are also a Destroyer, then he is the Observant. I trust you’ll know what that entails before the fight begins.”

  An observer doesn’t fight. He stands off to the side. Yeah, OK. That’s what I told Moon. I said this was my fight.

  “You assholes,” he whispered, thinking of the weapon-filled chest beside the river. “You tricked me. You knew I’d fall for it.”

  Two bullets hit the ground beside him and threw up dirt.

  “OK, fine. Have it your way.”

  Royal stood facing the skinny man, blast rifle dangling at his side.

  The skinny man tilted his head with bemusement.

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a.”

  He should have seen this coming from ten miles away.

  I’m losing my touch.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Royal said.

  The man in the pinstripe suit nodded before raising his pistol.

  Two bullets shredded Royal’s heart.

  He didn’t recognize the abyss. Shadows had been replaced by pastels and a cooling breeze through an open window.

  A tall red drink with a straw and a slice of lime sat on a small glass table in front of a high-backed chair with many throw pillows.

  “This isn’t the abyss.”

  He sat down and grabbed the tall drink.

  “Not this time,” a disembodied voice replied. “Enjoy.”

  He did. Royal tasted a refreshing blend of melon, raspberry, and honeysuckle.

  “Will this take long?” He said, his thirst quenched.

  “No. Answer one question. Do you understand now?”

  “I got a good idea. He suckered me in. You knew he’d do it.”

  “Hmm. Yes. He always wants to be greater than his truth.”

  “Don’t we all? Where does this leave us?

  The breeze picked up and chilled him to the bone.

  The voice answered.

  “With an important decision.”

  “The real test, you mean.”

  “Indeed.”

  Royal awakened to a tightness in his chest and his shirt soaked in blood. Moon squatted over him. The kid did not wear a shirt, with splatters of dried blood on his bare chest and in his beard.

  “You’re back,” Moon said. “You weren’t kidding about your regen. It’s a long one. I was starting to think you left me here alone.”

  “Wait. How are you …?”

  Royal reared up and scanned the field. The Destroyers huddled thirty meters away, talking to each other with an animated flare, no sign of their weapons.

  “After they killed you, they left me alone. The guy in the trench coat even smiled at me. He pointed to the river. I knew he wanted me to clean up. Instinct, I suppose. What happened, Royal? Did we fail?”

  “Depends on who’s asking.”

  Royal followed Moon’s lead and threw off his bloodied shirt. He started toward the Destroyers.

  “OK. Let’s talk.”

  The men glanced at each other then said in unison:

  “Qu’ino e’ z-hir’a for-ta mu si qu-zow?”

  Royal cursed under his breath.

  “Really, guys? We’re still on that?”

  “The translation is simple,” said a new voice.

  The Destroyers looked off to the side, where Royal’s eyes followed. Gingerbread waited in the high grass, holding a fresh set of folded clothes. His red hair ruffled in the breeze.

  “Of course,” Royal said. “It was you, wasn’t it? When I was dead. I was speaking to you.”

  “Too much information.”

  “Oh, you fu …”

  “Do you wish me to translate or not?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Each man asked the same question before repelling you: Will the Destroyer and the Observant go free?”

  Moon stood at Royal’s side. He balled his fists and seethed.

  “They asked a question in a language we don’t know. Even if we did, the question makes no sense.”

  “Actually,” Royal said, “it does.”

  “What?”

  Royal looked over his shoulder. The trench coat man removed his wide-brimmed hat and held it over his chest. The skinny man followed with his own cap.

  “They answered. Am I right, Gingerbread?”

  “They did.”

  “What did they say?”

  “No.”

  Moon nudged Royal.

  “I’m lost. What’s happening here?”

  “It’s my fault, Moon. I fucked up. Again.”

  “How? We didn’t know they’d have shields. Were we wrong about the test?”

  “I was. They set out that chest to tempt me. I’m what they call a Destroyer. A killer. They knew my instinct would be to train you because you’re not a natural, like me. They knew I’d go for the low-hanging fruit and put a gun in your hand, so you could be just like me. But you’re not. Not even close.”

  “What are you saying? I hit that asshole. It wasn’t a fair fight.”

  “That’s just it. There wasn’t supposed to be a fight. That was the test. I knew it, but I didn’t listen. You’re an observer. You think you can be a killer like me, but you’re wrong. I decided maybe you could be. I never should have listened to you. I fucked up.”

  Moon backed away as if he’d been betrayed by a brother.

  “I don’t believe you, Royal. None of this shit makes sense.”

  “And yet, he’s correct,” Gingerbread said, approaching with the fresh clothes. “The Observant is capable of killing when he must, but it is not in his nature to seek out death. The two Destroyers over there posed the same question they have for countless eons. The answer is always yes. When you responded with gunfire, you answered no.”

  “What’s wrong with saying no?”

  Gingerbread nodded to the Destroyers, who turned and walked away. He approached Moon.

  “You are the Observant. You believe you are more than your truth. That is both your goodness and your frailty. It is the job of the Destroyer to suppress these ambitions within you.” He faced Royal. “He withheld his duty. In the process, he confirmed the answer. The Destroyer and the Observant do not wish to go free.”

  “So, it’s true,” Royal said. “There’s something inside each of us.”

  “Something is an insulting word. You are Rider. Moon, you are Rider. You span the Continuum.”

  “Maybe you’d like to be a little more specific, and don’t you dare claim it’s too much information.”

  “You’ll know everything soon enough.”

  “Yeah, no. Everything is a pretty insulting word, too, especially since you’ve given us damn near nothing so far.”

  Gingerbread handed over the clothes and bowed his head.

  “I’ve done all that’s required of me, and you said no. If Prelude is what you both wish, then we must respect your choice. This moment was inevitable from the first day.”

  “What was inevitable?”

  “Dress now. I will lead you to Bessios.”

  11

  T HIS TIME, GINGERBREAD told the truth. Daylight faded soon after a short walk beyond the open field, and the glow of a city rose from the darkness on the far side of a hill.

  “Bessios.”

  “What’s there?” Moon asked.

  “The end of your journey and the beginning of your leisure.”

  Royal reached under his shirt and scratched his belly. He blamed the fabric; it made him itch from the get-go.

  “Some folks define death the same way, Gingerbread.”

  “Certain faiths use that mythology to comfort their believers. For you, there will be no death. Only life as you choose it, to the end of the Continuum.”

  “There you go, G. The first real answer you’ve given since we left the field.”

  Moon asked, “When the does Continuum end?”

  “I don’t know, but the Riders do. Perhaps they will speak to you inside the city gates.”

  “Why there?”

  “You’ll understand.”

  Royal nudged Moon.

  “He means ‘too much information.’ I’d say ol’ Gingerbread doesn’t know squat about what these Riders are up to.”

  “Is he right, Gingerbread?”

  Their guide’s expression wasn’t hard to read. Though night descended, the protostars cast a strong, milky tint across the land.

  “The Riders are not obliged to tell the Overseer their plans. They were given the Creators’ blessings on the first day.”

  “Why won’t you tell us more about the Riders, the Creators, or ‘the first day?’ Don’t you see how frustrated we are?”

  Royal chuckled.

  “Fucking pissed, is what we are. Too much information?”

  “Yes,” Gingerbread said after a moment’s thought. “Our protocols are inviolate. You will learn everything inside the city.”

  “Let’s say we do, and let’s say these Riders decide to chat us up. Will we understand them?”

  “I believe so.”

  “What language were those Destroyers speaking?”

  “A modified version of the Creators’ tongue, adapted for carbon-based lifeforms.”

  “So, the Riders always used to say yes. Then what? They’d …?”

  “Separate from their hosts. The Riders would move on to their next journey. The hosts entered Bessios to live among the fortunate few.”

  “I thought you couldn’t talk about the Riders.”

  “I’ve said all my protocols will allow. What occurs inside the city gates or beyond the Continuum exceeds my grasp. The ridgeline is just ahead. You will have your first look at your new home.”

  They followed an ascending path between scrub brush. Royal felt a jolt of anticipation.

  “So, you got no idea what happens inside Bessios?”