Cathedral of Bones

by A. J. Steiger

  —then her feet struck the bank on the opposite side, and once again he was holding on for dear life. After losing his grip on her mane for the second or third time, he gave up and flung both arms around her neck, burying his face against her scales.

  When Alice finally did slow down, his body ached in places and in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He tumbled off her back and onto the grass, groaning.

  She nudged him with her snout and rumbled with concern. He managed a wobbly smile. “Time for a rest?”

  She settled her massive bulk onto the grass, while Simon tried to hold on to the contents of his stomach. Gingerly, he picked himself up and stared off into the distance. He could see the iron-gray sea through gaps in the hills. They’d covered a great deal of distance in a short time. She was faster than a horse. Far faster.

  A rustling broke the silence—something moving in the grass. Alice’s ears twitched, and she raised her angular head, nostrils flaring. She rose into a crouch, tentacles twitching, like the tail of a cat about to pounce.

  Before he could say a word, she lunged. Her head shot forward like a snake’s; her jaws clamped down on something small and fast. There was a squeal and a crunch. Alice raised her head, a dead rabbit dangling from her teeth. She tossed her head back and swallowed it whole, bones and all.

  Simon stared. Alice smiled at him with bloody teeth. “Er . . . maybe you should change back,” he said. “Eidendel’s not far, and the closer we get, the greater our risk of being seen. We can probably walk the rest of the way.” He set her clothes on the ground between them.

  She tilted her head then gave a low grunt. Simon turned away, trying to ignore the meaty crackling sounds as she shifted back.

  “You can look now.”

  When he turned, she was in human form, clad in her ragged, patched cloak once again. He smiled. The expression faded when he saw the way she was grimacing. “Does it hurt you to change shape?”

  “Would it hurt you if someone wrenched apart your bones and muscles, squeezed them down to a fifth their size, and then reassembled them?”

  “That bad?”

  She flopped down on the soft grass next to the road. “The pain doesn’t last long. I can deal with it. Mostly, it’s just exhausting. I feel like I could sleep for a day.” She sighed, then let out a small burp and clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “We can rest here, if you like. It should be safe enough.” He paused. “Thank you. For giving me a ride.”

  “You look a bit green.”

  “I’ll survive. Really—it was quite an experience.”

  She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “You think it’s ugly. My other shape.”

  “Actually, not a bit. It’s . . . majestic. I wouldn’t mind the ability to change into a gigantic dragonish version of myself. Would’ve come in handy when I was being bullied in school.”

  She let out a soft laugh. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh, and the sound gave him a pleasant flutter, like moth wings tickling the inside of his belly. Then she yawned and curled up on the grass. “The sun is making me sleepy.” Heavy-lidded eyes blinked at him, then slipped shut.

  Simon settled next to her, folding his arms across his knees. The sun-dappled countryside lay all around him, cloud-shadows moving over the hills. “Another few hours of walking and we should have a clear view of the city. We can make it there before nightfall, anyway.” No response. “Alice?”

  She remained huddled into a ball, tentacles wrapped around herself like a blanket, snoring softly. A thin line of drool ran from the corner of her mouth.

  Already, she was asleep. Not surprising, considering all she’d been through. She hadn’t napped on the train. Hadn’t dared to let down her guard at all, he supposed.

  A lock of dark hair lay across her forehead. He reached out on impulse to brush it aside, then stopped, his fingers inches from her head. What right did he have to touch her so casually? They barely knew each other.

  He started to pull away; a tentacle flicked out and curled around his arm. He gave a start. “Sorry, I thought you were—” The words died in his throat. Alice’s eyes remained closed; he could see them rolling beneath the lids as she dreamed.

  He looked at the dark appendage wrapped around his forearm. There were suckers on the underside; they gripped him with surprising force, sticking to him like a briar. He’d never had a chance to look at them this closely. When she was awake, staring felt rude, and touching them was out of the question. Cautiously, holding his breath, he brushed a finger over the tentacle’s surface. The skin was shiny, slightly rubbery, and surprisingly soft.

  She shifted restlessly and murmured. He shouldn’t be doing this—poking and prodding her without her awareness, as though she were some exotic curiosity.

  With a twinge of regret, he tugged his arm free. Her tentacle curled and uncurled in midair, as if searching for something to hold on to, then drooped to her side.

  After an hour or so, Alice stirred herself awake, and they set off. They walked side by side, climbing over roots and boulders that littered the trail. It led them steadily uphill, the path growing steeper and narrower. When they finally reached the hill’s rocky crest, Simon was panting, robes drenched with sweat. He wasn’t used to traveling such distances on foot. Too much time sitting at a desk, he thought.

  He brushed damp curls from his forehead and raised his head.

  Eidendel lay before them. They stood on the edge of the massive, circular crater, and the city covered its bottom from end to end. Simon had never seen the city from this angle before. He gazed down on the intricately carved stone temples, the arched doorways and pillars of gray-veined white marble, the domed copper roof of the library, now a rusted mossy green. From this distance, the people moving through the streets looked like ants. A ring of cliffs surrounded the city, like a towering natural wall. Beyond sprawled the iron-gray sea.

  “Well,” he said, “here it is. My home.”

  He expected some sort of reaction from Alice. Eidendel was, after all, the largest, oldest, and grandest city on the Continent, the stronghold of the Foundation. But her expression remained neutral, guarded. Earlier, when they were alone in the countryside, she’d seemed far more relaxed. Now her mask was back in place. “How do we get down there?”

  “There’s a road.” He pointed. “It cuts through the cliffs and dips down into the city, see? We just have to go around and follow that through the main gates.”

  Alice nodded, arms crossed over her chest, fingers digging into her biceps. A bead of sweat gleamed on her temple.

  She was afraid. Of course. She had every reason to believe that human beings were her enemy, and here he was, dragging her into the heart of civilization. She hadn’t wanted to come here.

  He reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder. She gave him a startled glance. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

  “You promise?”

  The question, soft and unsure, caught him off guard. But he answered readily. “I promise.”

  She nodded and breathed in slowly through her nose. “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The salty smell of sea spray filled the air as they approached the city’s main entrance. The towering gates stood open; a steady flow of traffic moved into and out of Eidendel.

  Alice clutched Simon’s sleeve, pressing close to his side as they entered.

  The hubbub engulfed them. Vendors stood at carts, ringing bells and hawking their wares. Trays of meat dumplings steamed. Passersby rode down the street on horseback, in carriages, or on bicycles with enormous front wheels. No one gave Simon or Alice a second glance.

  “See?” Simon whispered. “As long as you keep your tentacles covered, you’re fine.”

  “I’m gray, remember? If anyone sees my face . . .”

  “Look around you.” He gestured toward the streets. A pale woman in flowing red robes walked past, her face swirled with painted black and white stripes. A bald, brown m
an rode past on an animal resembling a leathery-skinned bull; the man’s head bore tiny golden horns. Above, an emerald-furred wraith swooped through the air on feathered wings, a mail-scroll clamped between its teeth. Three yellow eyes burned above its muzzle. “People from all over the land come to Eidendel. And they summon Eldritch creatures for all sorts of tasks. City dwellers aren’t so easily surprised. Or frightened.”

  A line of sweeper-imps trundled past on their stubby little legs, muttering their chant of “gubble, gubble.” Their fishy mouths sucked up crumbs and dirt. Alice watched them with a bemused frown. “They eat garbage?”

  “They’ll eat anything. Good for sanitation, not so good if someone drops jewelry or money on the ground by mistake. But I guess all conveniences have drawbacks.”

  Gradually, the tension eased out of her shoulders. She lifted her head tentatively and looked around, taking in the sights. “What is that thing?” She pointed.

  In the stall ahead of them, a tiny clown doll with a painted wooden head walked about on its own, performing jumps and somersaults on a miniature stage. Children watched, clapping and squealing. The clown took a bow.

  “Oh. It’s a golem—a doll controlled by Animism.”

  “It’s creepy.”

  “They’re harmless. Quite common, actually. For certain tasks, they’re more convenient than imps because they don’t have to be summoned, and they don’t vanish back into the Eldritch Realm. My father keeps a bunch of them in his house to do the cleaning.” He scanned the streets. No patrols in sight, thank the Spirit. Despite what he’d said, he knew he couldn’t afford to let down his guard.

  “Who here has the courage to peer into the abyss?” a voice brayed, distracting him. A man in a purple suit and top hat stood in front of a covered wagon painted with images of snarling, demonic figures. He waved a striped cane around as he barked at the crowd, “Right here, right now! Come see a gen-u-ine portal to the Outer Realm, birthplace of the Elder Gods and all their unspeakable kin!”

  Alice scrunched up her forehead. “That can’t be real.”

  “It’s not. Just tourist stuff. No one really believes in the Elder Gods anymore . . . or at least, no sensible person.”

  The huckster turned toward them. “Oho, a skeptic!” He smiled and twirled his slick black mustache around one finger. “Perhaps you’d like to take a peek for yourself . . . if you dare to brave the horrors?” He gestured to the entrance of the wagon with a flourish of his cape. “Come and hear the tortured screams of the damned—only two gillies! Can your sanity withstand—” He stopped, mouth frozen open in a gape. He was staring at Alice . . . or rather, at something near her feet.

  Simon glanced down and saw the tip of one tentacle poking out beneath the hem of her cloak, twitching back and forth. His eyes widened. Alice noticed, too late, and the tentacle shot back under her cloak.

  The vendor’s face had gone sheet-white.

  Simon linked arms with her, positioning himself between Alice and the vendor, and muttered, “Just keep walking.”

  They hurried forward. Simon steered her down a narrow side street.

  “Sorry,” Alice muttered. “I—I got distracted. I was careless.”

  “It’s all right. He only saw it for a second or two. He probably has no idea what he saw. In any case, he has no reason to tell anyone, and even if he did, no one would believe him.” Simon realized he was babbling and snapped his mouth shut.

  “Maybe we should stick to the side streets,” Alice said.

  “Maybe. It’ll take a little longer, but there are fewer people.”

  “Dare you seek the truth?” a voice croaked. He raised his head to see the newspaper seller wandering through the crowd, waving a rolled-up copy of the Underground.

  Simon groaned. Why did they keep running into each other?

  She walked toward him with a stump-toothed grin. “You, boy! You look like a clever lad. Have you ever wondered—?”

  “No,” he said, “I haven’t.”

  “But surely, the unanswered questions must eat at you. The world is an onion, layer upon layer of secrets, each more pungent than the last!”

  “I’m not interested in pungent secrets, thank you.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Haven’t you learned your lesson after what happened last time? It’s dangerous to wave those things around. What if a patrol saw you?”

  “I fear nothing, for I am shielded by the indifferent hand of my Uncreator, the Lord of all Elder Gods.”

  “If his hand is indifferent, then how is it shielding you?”

  “Contradictions, my boy. The world is full of them. Here.” She thrust a paper at him and winked. “First one is free.”

  “Fine!” He grabbed it. “Just go, please. We’re in a hurry.”

  The woman wandered away, vanishing into the crowd.

  “She was . . . unique,” Alice said. “Do you know her?”

  “Sort of. It’s a long story.” He glanced down at the paper in his hand. The front page bore an ink illustration of a dozen bulging, reptilian eyes under the headline THE FOUNDATION IS WATCHING YOU!

  Alice leaned over his shoulder as he skimmed the text.

  The Foundation’s invisible imps are hiding in your kitchens, your bedrooms . . . yes, even your lavatory! They’re listening to everything. The Foundation keeps meticulous records of every citizen’s private conversations, secret phobias, and washing habits . . .

  “Washing habits?” Alice asked, arching her eyebrows. “Why would they want to know about that?”

  “This is nonsense,” Simon said. “I promise you.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. There’s an ad for ‘dried frog pills’ right beneath the story. ‘They’ll cure all, restore youth and vitality!’” She smirked. “Doesn’t exactly inspire a sense of credibility.”

  A smile tugged at Simon’s lips. “No, it doesn’t. But you’d be surprised at what some people believe.” Absently, he shoved the paper into a nearby bin and kept walking. “You know, that woman gave me an amulet the other day.” He removed it from his pocket. It sparkled in the sunlight. “I saved her from a patrol, so this was a sort of thank-you, I suppose. I’d almost forgotten I had it.”

  “It’s pretty,” Alice said. “Can I see it?” He placed it in her hand. She studied the silver tentacle. “This looks familiar.”

  “It’s the emblem of Azathoth, apparently. That’s the ‘Uncreator’ she was babbling about.”

  “An Elder God?”

  “The most powerful one. Though he doesn’t actually exist, of course.”

  Alice gave him an inscrutable look. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Well, it sounds rather ridiculous, doesn’t it? Like a fairy tale to frighten children. Huge, terrible beings that live in the dark spaces between worlds and show up on Earth to snack on humans . . . I mean, really? If they exist, why have none of them been seen for centuries? Why do we only have spotty historical records and vague legends?” Alice was silent. “Er . . . do you believe in them?” he asked uneasily.

  “I don’t know.” She handed the amulet back to him. “It does seem strange that people worship them, if they’re so terrible.”

  His fingers closed around the amulet. “I should probably just throw this away. I don’t want anyone assuming I’m a cultist.”

  “You should keep it,” Alice said.

  His brows knitted together. “Why?”

  “It was a gift, wasn’t it? You said you saved her. It’s a reminder that you helped someone. Even if she is a nutter. Who cares what people think?”

  He stared at the amulet a moment longer. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Maybe you’re right.” He draped the amulet around his neck. “I’m sure my father would be appalled if he could see me wearing this. He has a lot of contempt for Chaos-worshippers. Even if his own father was one.” Maybe because of that, come to think of it. Dr. Hawking didn’t talk about Simon’s grandfather very often, and when he did, it wasn’t exactly in glowing terms.

&nbs
p; And yet he’d married a woman with similar beliefs. Or at least, one who was open-minded about such things.

  Alice walked alongside him. “Speaking of your father, I’ve been wondering. Why did they kick him out of the Foundation?”

  “That was blunt.”

  She shrugged. “If I’m going to meet him, I want to know what sort of person he is.”

  “Fair enough. But I don’t know why, exactly. My father—both of my parents—are scientists. They always wanted to push the boundaries of what Animism could do, so naturally they didn’t always get along with the Foundation. Actually, my father is probably the more conservative of the two. After Olivia . . .” He stopped, taking a breath. “After we lost her, he just sort of . . . pulled away. Focused on his own research.” Simon cleared his throat. “Also, he might have showed up drunk at a Council meeting and blasted a hole in the wall.”

  “Huh.” Alice seemed to take the revelation in stride.

  Simon stared at his feet. “Do you still want to meet him?” A part of him hoped she’d say no.

  “I have nothing to lose and no other options. And we’re here now. I may as well. Are we almost there?”

  “A few miles. Blackthorn is near the shore, but you can only reach it by going through the city.” At her questioning look, he added, “Blackthorn is the name of my father’s house.”

  “Sounds a bit . . . ominous.”

  “A bit.” Simon kept walking, though his steps had grown numb and mechanical. Dark memories stirred and rustled in the back of his head, like a nest of serpents poked with a stick.

  He saw Olivia crumpled on the floor like a broken doll, blood pooling beneath her.