by Jack Conner
He caught sight of the Journeyers who had been spared, so far, and was not surprised to see them pale and shaking. Had they thought it would be any different? Still, Avery pitied them.
Once the sacrifices were dissolved, the Collossum reverted to their human-selves. They now looked sated and flushed, their cheeks rosy, their eyes shining. Avery thought of vampires after a feast.
Then they surprised him. They themselves lay on the blood-smeared altars.
“What is ... ?” Avery started to ask, then quickly shut his mouth.
Scores of thick, phantasmagorical limbs shot from the water, out from the Elders, and stabbed into the Collossum, each and every one. They only vaguely resembled the tendrils and pseudopods of the lesser R’loth. The limbs were both larger and thicker, more solid and at the same time more intangible and ethereal. Avery saw glistening, rubbery flesh that flowed and changed, congealed into long smooth limbs pulsing with brilliant striations, things like mouths gaping all along their lengths. Then they rippled and shifted and changed, became bloated and segmented, with flesh that resembled that of a toad’s. Then they changed again, becoming like iron and molten stone. Then again, changing into something that resembled elongated fetuses. Then again. And at all times they were misshapen and strangely angled, as if not meant for this reality. They were wrong somehow. Other shapes moved through them, through the air, only half-visible, as if echoes from another place.
Some sort of energy began to pulse up the appendages from the Collossum on the altars—Avery could see the tentacles, if that’s what they were, swell and ripple, like a boa constrictor devouring a lamb. On their slabs, the Collossum shuddered and twitched. Froth gathered at the sides of their mouths. Some leaked urine onto the altars. At last they quit twitching, and the tentacles and other-limbs withdrew into the water. Blinking, the Collossum sat up, gasping and wiping sweat from their brows. Some shook. Some cried. Some laughed. One threw up. Slowly, they crawled off the altars and prostrated themselves at the waters’ edge.
Avery stared. The Elders were as much gods to these beings as the lesser Collossum were gods to the humans. Fascinating. If horrifying. And somewhere in this Temple was an inner temple, Layanna had told him, which was massive and opulent and stranger than anything he had yet seen, a place where the Elders could commune and worship the Great Elders that lived in the deep, as well as the Heralds of the Outer Lords, even the Outer Lords themselves. No Collossum save the Elders were allowed in that most holy sanctum.
Suddenly, the Elders surged upward, dislodging the water. A wave crashed against Avery’s knees and nearly knocked him down. Very near the surface now, the Elders rippled and swelled.
And began to speak.
They spoke in no human language. Avery’s ears heard it as a watery roar mixed with a sound like radio static. He gritted his teeth and wanted to shove his fingers in his ears against the sound.
At last they quit speaking, and he breathed easier. The waters bubbled and frothed violently, and a sense of expectation built up in the room. The Collossum looked curiously at each other. Finally the water exploded, and a great, horrible mass rose into the midst of the glimmering lights. It was a mountain of dark, phantasmagorical flesh, pseudopods straining, tentacles slashing the air. It radiated a great sense of power.
Gradually the phantasmagorical flesh withdrew as the being sucked in its other-self, and a lone figure hovered above the waters, staring out at the gathered Collossum.
It was, to Avery’s shock, Muirblaag. Or, rather, Uthua, the Mnuthra that had possessed him.
Uthua looked much as he had before—immense, nearly seven feet tall, powerfully built and muscled, completely piscine, with all-black eyes. Covered in blue-gray scales now glistening with moisture, he boasted countless scars earned by Muirblaag’s life of crime and misadventure. A crest began on his head and ran down his back. His webbed hands and feet ended in sharp-tipped claws.
Avery could not help but wonder what Uthua had been doing in the pool of the Elders, sharing their throne ... The last Avery had seen of him, he had been an ancient and powerful Collossum, but no Elder.
Uthua himself answered the question.
“I HAVE BEGUN THE ASCENT,” he declared. His voice reverberated boldly against the walls and almost seemed to mix with the watery echoes of the chamber, his volume augmented by the power of this room and its occupants. “I DEVOURED THE REMAINS OF UUGSTRUUM, WHO FELL IN CUITHRIL, AND NOW AM ON THE PATH TO REPLACING HIM.”
Murmurs swept the room. All the gathered Collossum bowed to Uthua, and he acknowledged the gesture with a single, grim nod. His black eyes glittered.
“BECAUSE OF THIS I HAVE BEEN GRANTED THE PRIVILEGE OF ADDRESSING YOU ALL. ON THIS DEEP NIGHT, WE, THE ELDERS AND I, GREET YOU IN JOY AND REVERENCE FOR THE OUTER LORDS AND THEIR HERALDS—THE ILLUSTRIOUS YREG-NGAD, THE GREAT OS’YGRITH, MIGHTY XUN—ALL OF WHOM WE CAN SENSE WITH GREATER CLARITY THAN EVER. WE’VE SUMMONED YOU HERE TO RECEIVE ORDERS, AS WE HAVE PREPARED A NEW PATH TO VICTORY. IT HAS BECOME CLEAR TO US THAT OUR ENEMIES IN THE SO-CALLED BLACK SECT WILL LIKELY CONSTRUCT THEIR DEVICE, NO MATTER OUR EFFORTS. WE WILL CONTINUE TO DO ALL WE CAN TO STOP THEM, BUT WE MUST ASSUME THEIR TASK WILL BE ACCOMPLISHED. WE HAVE DELAYED THEM ENOUGH TO SET BACK THE FIRING OF THEIR DEVICE FOR A TIME. WE SET A ROUGH TIME LIMIT OF A MONTH AND A WEEK.
“THUS WE HAVE FIVE WEEKS TO BRING THE WAR TO A CLOSE IN THIS THEATER. ANY LONGER AND WE RISK THE DEVICE BEING FIRED AND OUR ARMIES DRIVEN BACK. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT WE WIN THE WAR BEFORE THAT HAPPENS. TO THIS END, WE CHARGE YOU ALL WITH THIS: FROM NOW ON, YOU WILL LEAD THE WAR YOURSELVES. YOU WILL FIGHT ON THE FRONT LINES AND LEAD OUR HOSTS TO VICTORY.
“WE PROJECT THAT WITH THE MIGHT OF THE TEMPLE SPEARHEADING THE OCTUNGGEN HOSTS, WE WILL GALVANIZE AND RE-ENERGIZE OUR ARMIES. NOT ONLY THAT, BUT OUR NAKED STRENGTH AND PROWESS WILL DEVASTATE OUR ENEMIES.
“MOST LOYAL OCTUNGGEN HAVE BY THIS POINT SEEN ONE OF THEIR GODS IN THE FLESH, OR AT LEAST A REPRESENTATION OF US, SO OUR APPEARANCES SHOULD NOT SHOCK THEM OVERLY. HOWEVER, IT WILL HORRIFY AND DISTURB OUR ENEMIES, AND THIS WILL ONLY AID US IN THE FIGHT TO COME.
“IT IS TRUE THAT ENGAGING IN COMBAT OURSELVES WILL EXPOSE US TO RISK, BUT THAT CANNOT BE HELPED. THE RISK POSED BY THE BLACK SECT’S ENGINE OF RUIN IS FAR WORSE. IF WE ARE TO WIN THIS WAR, LEADING FROM THE FRONT IS OUR ONLY OPTION.
“TOMORROW EACH OF YOU WILL RECEIVE A DETAILED BRIEFING ON WHICH UNITS YOU WILL BE ASSIGNED TO LEAD, BUT FOR NOW KNOW THIS: WE WILL GO TO WAR OURSELVES, AND IN JUST OVER A MONTH IT WILL BE WON. ALL HAIL THE OUTER LORDS!”
“All hail the Outer Lords!” the Collossum chanted.
“MEANWHILE I WILL CONTINUE THE HUNT FOR LAYANNA AND THE BLACK SECT. IF AT ALL POSSIBLE, THEIR DEVICE MUST BE SECURED AND ITS FUNCTIONS REVERSED FOR OUR USE. IF WE CAN ACCOMPLISH THIS, WE CAN EXPAND THE WAR AND BRING NOT JUST THESE TWO CONTINENTS TO HEEL BUT THE WORLD ENTIRE. AS IT IS, THE RESOURCES OF OCTUNG WILL BE STRAINED SIMPLY OCCUPYING CONSUR AND URSLIN, AND IT WILL TAKE SEVERAL GENERATIONS OF REBUILDING THEIR POPULATIONS AND INDOCTRINATING THEIR YOUNG BEFORE THEY MAY HELP US SPREAD OUR RULE THROUGHOUT THE GLOBE. THE ONLY WAY TO AVOID THIS CENTURY-LONG DELAY IS TO SECURE THE DEVICE.
“EITHER WAY, OUR VICTORY WILL BE ASSURED. ALL HAIL THE OUTER LORDS!”
“All hail the Outer Lords!”
“YOU HAVE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS. LEAVE US. THE ELDERS AND I MUST COMMUNE.”
The Elders submerged, vanishing deep into the water, and Uthua, bringing his other-self over once more, joined them in the depths.
It was done.
The Collossum, some popping their ears, rose to their feet and filed from the room, disappearing down the various entrances that led here, as this seemed a sort of central hub. Some wore expressions of concern, some joy.
One paused before the priests, and the priests bowed to him.
“You did well,” the Collossum said, a tall, robust man with sandy brown hair and dark eyes. “You brought enough sacrifices for all this time.”
“Thank you, my lord,�
� said the High Priest, looking chagrined at the indirect rebuke. “The Deep Night brings them, not I.”
“So it is.”
“Will our charges be further needed, my lord?”
“Not tonight, but gather more for tomorrow. We will have a revel before we all depart. And we will need a great number. Hundreds, at least.”
Avery shuddered. A revel.
“As you wish, my lord,” the High Priest said. “I’ll give a rousing sermon tomorrow morning and inspire a few more Travelers onto the Road.”
“We need more than a few. Look to the prisons.”
The High Priest grimaced. “And taint Your Holinesses with unworthy flesh? You know I—”
“We’re not so picky as you, Masriin,” the Collossum chided. “And what’s good enough for the Elders is certainly good enough for us. They burn through the prison populations quite rapidly. More every day. We enact new laws simply to put more people away. But fear not. Remember, those who haven’t recited the Chapter of Passage do not walk the Road, only serve as food. Their souls never make it to the House of Joy but are burned up long before.” With that, he patted the High Priest on the shoulder and quit the room.
The High Priest, Masriin, watched him go, then nodded at the other priests and their charges, many of whom were shaking in fear and shock.
“Time to return to the House of the Spirits,” Masriin said.
Avery tried to collect his thoughts as they filed out. It was difficult. He was still reeling from the effects of the Elders’ presence, as well as the horror of the sacrificial ceremony and the proximity to so many Collossum. He knew he must bring his news to the Black Sect at once. According to Layanna, it would take weeks or months to complete the Device at the present rate of progress. Avery didn’t know how they could finish it earlier, but obviously they needed to. Yet if he failed to make it back to them, they would never know that, and all would be lost.
He was trembling as they emerged from the innermost wall and strolled through the gardens again. The warm night lay heavy on his skin, and though he knew it was cooler than before, he was oozing sweat by the time he reached the House of Spirits. There, after a few quick words, the priests dropped the Travelers off. Several of the priesthood had already gathered about the House, and they waited in the shadows, surreptitiously, while the sacrifices vanished inside. Avery wondered if the priests expected an escape attempt. He supposed they would keep these sacrifices separate from the new batch that would trickle in tomorrow, lest the fear of a few sheep spark a stampede.
The High Priest led his brothers and sisters through the gardens to the Monastery of Serith, where Masriin conferred quietly with the Mother Superior, after which a group of the sisters, Zassei included, moved toward the House of Spirits, doubtlessly to pacify the terrified Journeyers with soft words and warm flesh. Avery thought that if he were still among those at the House, he wouldn’t have the fortitude to be pacified.
After the holy slatterns had been dispatched, the High Priest led on, whether to the order of Hath or back to the temple or monastery where these priests lived, Avery never knew. When no one was looking, he slipped away into the shadows of the garden.
He hurried, twice becoming lost and once doubling up as a coughing fit seized him, to the tunnel that led through the outer wall and into the Cathedral of Lors. The pounding of his heart filled his ears. He began to hear something else over it, the familiar sound of chanting and singing.
Breathless, he emerged into the main room of worship. The three Collossum, of course, had departed, and with them much of the congregation, leaving only a relative handful of the faithful. Deep Night was almost over. Maybe it already was. Avery could only see the sliver of one of the moons through the dome overhead. Did that mean the stars were out of alignment now? Or did local satellites matter? Whichever. All that concerned him was escaping this place and bringing his information to Layanna.
He rushed up an aisle, bound for the main entrance.
Almost out. He was almost out.
His breaths came faster and harder than before, almost wheezing. Sweat stuck the robe to the small of his back. Maybe his disguise would help. After all, he could order the faithful about. On the other hand, it made him easily identifiable to pursuers.
He propelled himself up the aisle with his staff. It thumped against the floor as it went. Thump, thump.
Ahead of him, a group of parishioners climbed from their pews and clogged up the aisle. He clenched his fists in impatience as he waited for them to break up or move forward. Eventually they moved toward the doors. But slowly. Very slowly. He saw a young man leading an old woman on a cane. Tick-tick snapped her cane. Tick-tick.
A fist began to hammer inside Avery’s skull.
Move, he thought. Move!
Finally he could take no more. Swearing under his breath, he pushed through the gaggle of worshippers, edging politely around the old lady, with a “Bless you, child,” as he went.
Then he was free.
So happy was he that he almost plowed directly into his daughter Ani.
* * *
He bumped her, said, “Excuse me, chi—”
He stopped.
Stared into her face. It was the same narrow face, framed by dark hair, with huge dark eyes set deep in her skull and high cheekbones that could have been carved from ivory, that he had been seeing in his dreams for four years. He could even see the vague suggestion of scars from the disease that killed her. The Deathlight had inflicted terrible boils and blisters on both Ani and her mother. The blisters had consumed them with pain, and they had constantly scratched at them so that they bled and scabbed into ugly scars. Avery had had to apply frequent ointment, but it had never been enough. Staring at Ani’s face now, he could see the ghost of those scars like white roses against her skin. In time maybe they would fade. Maybe they wouldn’t even be noticeable. But those scars meant there could be no mistake.
It was her.
Those big dark eyes stared up at him, and he felt his heart shudder violently. He sucked in a great breath and the spots that had earlier swam before him now erupted in violent pyrotechnics. It was all he could do to stand upright. His whole body seemed paralyzed.
Then Ani’s gaze moved on, not even really seeing him, just another mutant priest, ubiquitous here, and she was turned away by her guardian and ushered up the aisle. Something twisted in Avery’s stomach.
With some effort, he shook free of the paralysis. He opened his mouth to call her name and poised himself to run after her, to grab her and never let her go. Ani! Ani! He had found his Ani!
Then he caught sight of her guardian.
Sheridan stared back at him.
Chapter 7
Sheridan looked much the same as he remembered. Short auburn hair, a slightly squared jaw. Steely eyes. A high, broad brow. A nose that had been broken in some long-ago battle and had since been rebuilt, leaving a small scar at the bridge. Somewhat full, somewhat sensuous lips. A lithe, toned body, surprisingly muscular when her clothes were off. An attractive woman, in her way, but hard. Hard hard hard.
Something flickered across her steely eyes, but it was difficult to read them. It always had been. Her body tensed, and amusement curled her lips. She came alive, somehow, as if a switch had been turned on inside. Impossible to tell if it was passion that triggered this—she and Avery had been lovers, after all—or the threat of battle. She lived for either.
“Father,” she said, in her rich, upper-class drawl. She spoke Ghenisan. “You’ve ... changed.”
He couldn’t summon any amusement or warmth. His sole focus was on that small, frail figure that Sheridan’s loathsome hand was on, just lightly gripping the narrow shoulder. Ani was still pointed at the door, impatient to leave this place.
“What ... what is she doing here?” Avery asked. The words had to hiss between his teeth because he didn’t have the strength to pry his jaws open.
Sheridan bent and whispered something in Ani’s ear. Ani nodded and
ran along, up the aisle toward the entrance. Avery’s heart broke to see her leave. He longed to scream her name. If he’d had the strength to do so in that moment, he would have.
“You’re in no position to ask questions,” Sheridan told him, switching to Octunggen, as he’d spoken in.
He recovered enough to say, “I’m a priest, remember. One word from me and I can have this mob rend you limb from limb.”
She paused, as if weighing something that had not factored into her plans.
“I’ll do it,” he vowed, and meant it.
She inclined her head to him, just slightly. “Well played, Doctor.”
“Let’s take this outside.”
She started up the aisle and he followed. His heart surged as he drew closer to Ani. Two tall figures in military garb flanked her. Evidently they’d been waiting at the entrance.
“Who are they?” Avery asked.
“My escorts, of course.”
“Tell them to bring me Ani.”
“No.”
“She’s coming with me.”
“No. She’s not.”
“Don’t make me sic these people on you, Sheridan. I could take Ani away and make my escape in the confusion.”
Sheridan stopped and faced him. “You may succeed in killing me and escaping, but you won’t get Ani. Those soldiers are under orders to keep her with them or me at all times, and they’ll die before they give her up. And you can’t hurt them, not with any weapons you could’ve brought with you.” She paused. “Besides, do you really want her to come with you?”
“With all my heart.” He almost cried as he said it.
“Then she’ll be in the same danger you are, and I doubt you’ll escape this island without violence. It’s a long way across that bridge. It may not seem like it, but I will make it so.”
He hesitated. There seemed to be no way to compel her into ordering the troops to release Ani. Sheridan was willing to sacrifice herself to stop him from getting his daughter back. Willing to do anything to keep that leverage over him.