Phantasia

As far as Theseus was concerned, there were two forces at work in the world: the ones that tried to help you, and the ones that tried to hurt you. He liked to think of himself as being a force for the former, and an enemy of the latter. It was a simple world, and a simple belief, but he’d never been famous for his deep, philosophical ponderings. There wasn’t enough time in the world to sit around debating its meanings.

That was one of the reasons he didn’t like all this supernatural superstition. It raised too many questions and answered them with vague explanations made up to fill the void of knowledge. Theseus didn’t like fleeting, insubstantial things – things you couldn’t touch with your own hands. The idea of an enemy, something out to hurt others, that he couldn’t punch in the proverbial face troubled him. This ‘leansídhe’ thing the others kept going on about was one of those things. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t fight it, and the frustration was welling up in his fists, saving itself for something it could strike with deadly force.

“Not much longer now,” announced John, “Just another bend and we’ll be at the end of the tunnel,”

“About bloody time,” said Theseus, “Sure those bastards have got something waiting for us, though. Still not figured out what the hell that last one was about…”

“Me neither,” said John, “I could’ve sworn I heard something in the back of my mind, but I haven’t picked up the slightest trace of a signal,” He lowered his voice and shuffled closer to Theseus. “Don’t tell Phoenie, but I’m starting to wonder if those rumours and legends of telepathy and psychic powers might have a basis in reality. There are records of such things being researched in the Old World, so who knows what might have come of it…”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying. Telepaths or not though, the bastards behind this ain’t gonna survive a plasma charge in their face,”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come down to that,” said John, frowning at the prospect. Theseus hoped so too – the last thing he wanted was to come out of this ‘investigation’ a murderer.

As they neared the bend in the river, the sound of rushing water grew, along with the strength of the current. According to John they would soon pass a waterfall and have to finish their trek on dry land. It would be nice not to have water dragging at his calves, but the prospect of wandering rugged caverns in waterlogged boots and sodden jeans wasn’t too appealing. All the technology at their disposal and they still didn’t have self-drying fabrics. He bet all this faerie magic stuff couldn’t do much to solve that.

“I’m not picking up any further electronic readings,” said John as the group turned into the final stretch.

“We mustn’t let our guard down, team,” said Phoenie, “There’s bound to be one last devious device to stall our mission,”

Flashlights scanned the passageway ahead, revealing the basin of the waterfall and the continuing, dry path. One light traced its way along their planned route, then came to rest on a solitary figure standing at its far end, like a sentinel guarding the cavern beyond. It may not have been nearly as big, but its shape was unmistakable.

“The hell? That’s the same thing that attacked the Academy!” said Theseus, “A gestalt, right John?”

John lifted his arm and pointed in the direction of the malevolent statue. “Now running a scan. No sign of nanomachines. It’s made from rock,”

Chapter 50
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