by Jack Conner
Lights ahead.
He picked his way down the scaffolding, toward the glimmering lights. He saw lantern-light stroking the gunwale of a gondola, saw the long, golden balloon adorned with the Royal Crest of Ungraessot, a mountain peak against a flaming sun, saw Janx and Layanna in the dirigible’s stern while Hildra fiddled with the steering column. To the side, on the docks, Jynad issued final instructions.
Avery darted past him and bounded over the gunwale. The others stared at him, shocked.
“Your gun!” Avery pointed to the pistol strapped under Janx’s arm. He hadn’t even known Janx had a gun, but he had counted on it. The whaler would have armed himself as soon as possible. “Give it—now!”
Confused but quick, Janx unholstered his gun and tossed it.
Just as Avery heard boots rattle above, he spun and fired up into the darkness. He saw a shape framed in the doorway and emptied a round at it. He didn’t think he struck it, but the shape moved. A flash of fire burst from it. Something thunked behind him.
Avery fired again. The shape above cursed in Octunggen and lunged backward through the door.
Eyes wide, Avery turned to the others. “No time! Let’s go!” He tossed the pistol to Jynad. “Here, you’ll need this.” Jynad fumbled with the gun, holding it like a dead rat. Avery considered. “I advise you to duck and hide. In fact, maybe you should come with us.”
Jynad straightened his back. “My place is here.”
“Good luck.” To the others, Avery said, “Cast off! Cast off!”
Frantically Janx untied ropes. Hildra tended to the gears. Sweat stinging his eyes, Avery helped Janx. The dirigible cast off from the docks and drifted out into the darkness of the caverns.
Something appeared in the doorway behind, seemingly a hundred miles away, and a dark shape slipped down the docks. Something flashed in its hand, and after a moment Avery heard the gun’s report. He hoped Jynad was hiding but knew it was more likely that the royal aide had just died. The gun cracked again, again, clearly aimed at the dirigible this time, but the airship was too far away.
The palace trembled above. Sheridan fired again, surely enraged at their escape, but Avery and the others slipped away into the darkness.
PART FOUR:
UNDERWORLD
Chapter 8
Janx laughed and raised a bottle. They had snagged several from the suite.
“I gotta hand it to ya, Doc, it went off just like you said.”
Hildra wrestled the bottle from him and took a long swallow. “Ol’ Haemlys took the bait—hook, line and stinker. Wish I’d been there to see it.”
Attention turned to Layanna, who had been the only one present during the event itself except for the God-Emperor. Hell, she had been the event.
She gave a small smile and tipped a nod to Avery. As she did, her eyes made contact with his, and he felt something pass between them, but then she shifted her gaze too suddenly, and he was left wondering what it had been.
“It was a good plan,” she allowed. “You’re lucky, though. Almost I missed him, the son of fathers. I nearly came too late.”
“Tell us,” Hildra urged. She shoved the bottle into Layanna’s hands, the greatest display of camaraderie she’d ever shown her.
Layanna stared at the bottle as if wondering what it was exactly. Then, with a shrug, she upended it, gulping loudly. Avery smiled to hear such human sounds. When Layanna lowered the bottle, she grimaced, wiped her mouth and blinked. With care, she leaned forward and passed Avery the bottle, avoiding his eyes as she did.
“Tell us,” Janx called.
Perhaps feeling the effects of the drink, Layanna smiled and leaned back against the gunwale, stretching like a cat. The wood groaned around them, and the canvas of the balloon crackled above, over the hiss of flame and gas. To all sides came the faint echoes of the dirigible’s noises bouncing off cavern walls. Occasionally something would croak or hoot or chitter out in all that blackness, and Avery was glad for the feeble lights.
“Well,” Layanna said, “first I hid myself in the altar fountain, just as the doctor prescribed, and ate while I waited.”
“That’s disgusting,” Hildra said.
The bottle was passed around. Something chirruped in the darkness. Something splashed. A subterranean river ran below.
“The God-Emperor came, drunk and raging,” Layanna continued. “The Octunggen were using him, he knew it, could sense it. He had received another ngvandi prisoner, and he had his priest prepare it for sacrifice.” With satisfaction evident in her voice, she said, “I accepted.”
Janx guffawed. “Beautiful!”
Hildra leaned forward. “What then?”
Layanna accepted the bottle back—it had reached her again—and knocked back a long, healthy swig. After grimacing, she said, “Once he saw me in my other-form and knew what I was, he did what he’d been wanting for a long time. He begged me for aid against Octung. I told him, quite honestly, that to stop Octung he must assist the visitors that had arrived yesterday. He must give them access to the Underworld, to the Halls of the Royal Dead, let them travel to Cuithril. His eyes blazed, and he wept. He said he would gift them his personal dirigible, his royal mode of transportation when he deigned to visit the deeps, to pay homage to his kin, and eventually to journey there. And thus we are here. All thanks to the doctor.”
They made noises of appreciation to Avery, and he smiled deprecatingly. “It just came to me at the table today,” he said, “when Haemlys said he would continue making sacrifices to his gods. I thought, ‘I wonder what would happen if one answered?’”
“Nice thinking,” Hildra said, then her smile turned sad. “You think it’s still going on? The attack?”
Something croaked and splashed in the waters below. Avery wondered how often Haemlys had cruised these lightless paths. How often had he communed with his fathers and their fathers? Did any still truly wander down here as the legends claimed, living here after their allotted time as rulers had passed? The Ungraessotti believed the tales. None but the God-Emperor and his retainers would even venture down here, and over the years it had become taboo for anyone else do so. This place was dangerous, it was said—for the fathers were hungry. Dangerous yet sacred.
At last Layanna said, “It was a large-scale attack, but it was behind enemy lines, so I don’t think they could have taken the city. But they could have knocked out the processors and set it up for destruction later. Or they could have done enough damage to scare Haemlys into surrendering. But primarily the attack was a feint so Sheridan and the general could capture me.”
She handed the bottle to Avery, who took the last swig and opened another. They passed the new bottle around, and a gloom fell over them as they sipped in silence. They had destroyed, possibly, two cities after entering Ungraessot, may have doomed the nation, and for what?
Janx broke the mood. “Oh, fuck it,” he said. “We’re alive and it’s clear sailin’ to Cuithril. We get there, we do our business, and get out. All’s well, the world saved, and free pussy for all.”
Hildra cleared her throat.
“And cock,” he amended. “Now. I see a gramophone over there—the emperor knows how to travel in style—so let’s have some music. And let’s have some dancin’.” With that, he reached his hands into a recess and pulled out the gramophone, along with several records. He scanned them, smiled and placed one on the turntable. The sounds of jazzy music filtered out.
Hildra laughed, and she and Janx climbed to their feet. Janx bowed to her and offered a hand. “Would ya?”
“Oh, deary me, lord sa, I’d love to.”
First she reduced their speed and tied off the wheel so that the ship was traveling down a straight line, then she took his hand, laughing drunkenly, and they began to dance. They moved about the deck of the dirigible, now pressed against each other, now twirling, now jimmying and jiving. And all the while the dirigible moved through the darkness, and Avery imagined dark creatures watching them from the waters and
mires below. But with the singing and dancing, the things that lived in the blackness seemed somehow muted and powerless.
Avery, surprising himself, hauled himself to his feet and looked down at Layanna.
He stretched out a hand. “Madam, would you care ...?”
She stared up at him as though he were mad. “You must be joking.”
He shook his head, smiling a little. “No. I’m afraid I’m quite serious.”
She started to protest. Then, very deliberately, she paused. She thought about it. The jazzy music played on, bright and gay in this dark place, and Janx and Hildra continued dancing. It was clear the merriment moved Layanna much as it did Avery. At last, looking surprised at herself, she reached out, grabbed Avery’s hand and allowed him to pull her up.
Her body pressed up against him, and he felt awkward as he positioned himself against her. He felt her breath against his cheek. They were about the same height. My mermaid, he thought, wonderingly.
Slowly in the beginning, haltingly and uncomfortably, they danced. At times they bumped up against the gunwale, at times they nearly stumbled over something lying on the deck, but by degrees they got smoother, better. What was more, he felt good doing it. He felt warm. That hollow place inside him felt at least partially occupied for the first time in a long while.
At one point they backed against the steering column, and Layanna was pressed up against him. After some awkward fumbling, Avery led her back a few steps and they renegotiated where to position their hands.
Her face looked very pretty in the lantern light. Her lips were very full.
Impulsively, he kissed her.
It seemed to take her by surprise. For a moment, she resisted, but then she kissed back.
At last she pulled away. “No ... no.” She placed her hands gently but firmly on his chest. Shaking her head, she walked away.
Part of him wanted to go after her, but instead he let her go. The gramophone played on, and Janx and Hildra danced.
Alone, Avery moved to the gunwale and watched the cavern walls scroll by, and suddenly, no longer distracted by dancing and music, he remembered Sheridan.
Ani.
He was shaking by the time he removed the picture over his heart, the photograph of Mari and Ani. His gaze moved to Ani, so happy, so beautiful. Then he took out the new picture, the one Sheridan had given him. Ani smiled back at him, scared and sad but alive. His eyes burned. His throat closed off.
Sheridan will meet me in Cuithril. There’s still a chance. There’s still a chance! All I have to do is damn the world.
Trembling, he returned the pictures to his pocket.
He crossed to the wheel and took it. Everything would be fine, he told himself. They would find this city, this legendary Cuithril, they would locate the altar there, Layanna would transmit the plans for the Device to the Black Sect, and the world would be saved.
But not for Ani.
* * *
It was some time later that they noticed the dirigible sinking. It only sank slowly, so it was hard to notice at first. Finally, though, Avery realized the ceiling was farther away than it should have been.
“I think we’ve got a problem,” he announced.
The dance had ended, and the four quickly searched the dirigible, at last finding a small hole in one of the gas bags. A thin whisper leaked out.
“Shit,” Hildra said. “That bitch shot our fuel.”
“Lucky it didn’t blow us up,” Janx said. “Here, we can patch it.”
He sounded confident, and sure enough it didn’t take him long to seal it up. Yet the dirigible continued to sink—slowly, yet inexorably. Avery and the others tried to find another hole, but if there was one they couldn’t locate it. Avery estimated that they had another hour before the dirigible touched down.
Worried, the group began looking over the gunwale in an effort to see what waited for them down there. The answer was not encouraging.
“Those things are really old kings?” Hildra said.
Below them ngvandi—or beings very much like ngvandi—moved through the stone tunnels, naked, some holding spears or crude clubs. On some of the spears severed heads were mounted.
If those are the kings, I’d hate to meet the subjects, Avery thought. He knew the mutants that lived down here were supposed to be the descendants of Ungraessotti god-emperors and the retainers they had taken with them into the dark; over hundreds of years there had developed a population of sorts. But the mutants Avery and the others saw were wild, degenerate specimens, worse than the ngvandi that roamed the Borghese.
“We may have to set down amongst them,” Layanna said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Avery said. “Hopefully our fuel will last.”
“Last till when?” Hildra said.
Avery sensed it before he saw it, the roar and susurrus of water. And even, from up here, the stink of brine. The others noticed it, too, and they all rushed to the bow.
The cavern they were passing through had opened out and become enormously tall and wide, almost so wide that it was like being outdoors. Below them the land terminated at a rocky shore extending left and right as far as they could see, and ahead stretched a vast black body of water.
“A sea,” Avery muttered. “An underground sea.”
Far above the water, what seemed like perhaps a mile, a shaft of sunlight lanced in through a thin crack in the cavern ceiling. The shaft beamed down past massive stalactites about which flittered dark shapes that might be giant batkin or slug-like flails, beamed down through air so black that the light only seemed to illuminate how dark it truly was, down onto the slowly surging sea below. White caps denoted waves, turgid, lazy waves that rolled back and forth, sometimes smashing with languid force against rearing stone towers that must be ancient stalagmites from before this area was flooded. Ghostly wisps of fog curled above the waves, coiled about the stalagmites and then pressed on, moving with mysterious purpose. A huge white shape breached the black water far out, let out a strange moan, then sounded.
Avery stared. The others made sounds of awe.
The ship sailed through the air over the water, below the huge stalactites that hung down like the fangs of gods. Avery felt their weight hovering over him, immense and deadly. The muddy nests of flails studded some of them, and the sticky, winged slug-things could occasionally be seen sweeping over the misty water or sucking slime off a jutting stalagmite.
The ship passed through drooping bulwarks of minerals, and Avery felt small and puny, aware of just how insignificant the ship was over such a sea. The waterway wound along a huge cavern, then hit another. Avery supposed a whole system of great caverns must enclose the sea.
“At least it’s not the Atomic,” he said, the wheel gripped tightly in his hands.
Janx grunted. “Ain’t that the truth. Don’t have to worry about gettin’ hit by lightning. No environment suits. Shit, you could take a swim if ya wanted.”
“Have at it,” Hildra said.
Bubbles ripped the surface of the water, and Avery saw a huge steaming burst of air belch from the sea. The gas, methane possibly, drifted up and up to lodge against the ceiling overhead. He saw other bubbles, too, spaced out over the water. There could be whole clouds of trapped gas over the sea, slithering among the stalactites. Possibly volatile gas.
For a moment he feared that the dirigible’s flame might ignite the vapor, but the flame was well enclosed. However, if someone lit a match ...
“No cigarettes,” Avery warned, then, to Janx: “Or cigars.”
Avery felt as if he was in some primordial time, perhaps back when the giant bugs known as Carathids lumbered across the land and filled the skies with their incessant buzzing; even the atmosphere felt different. And all the while the dirigible sank lower ... and lower ...
At last it skimmed above the water, and Avery recoiled at the thought of setting down. The dirigible might float, but—
“I hear something,” Hildra said.
; “What?” said Avery.
Her expression was puzzled. “I don’t know. Just a general ... humming.”
Frowning, Avery guided the ship through up-thrusting spires of rock while Hildra stood at the bow and used a pole to shove them off any stalagmites that drew too close. Avery could smell their mineral reek, the odor of copper and iron and ozone and stone. The air grew colder, and when the fog caressed his skin he found it oily and unpleasant.
Shortly he heard sounds. At first he perceived the sounds collectively as a sort of hum, a background noise, oddly familiar. Then, as they grew louder, he began to break the sounds down into their component parts. A clanging here, a squeal there ...
They came upon it with unexpected speed. It rose out of the mist like a mountain. Like a range of mountains. The mist seemed to roll away from the dirigible, clear from it for just a brief moment, and in that moment Avery felt his jaw drop open.
Ahead, beyond a rocky beach, huge towers rose high, strange and humped—and many. One after another, great spires hunched and thrust toward the cavern ceiling, some even seeming to merge with massive stalactites hanging down. A layer of mist—no, cloud—stirred against the ceiling between the giant stalactites, and to Avery’s shock he saw what looked like precipitation falling onto the city below. Those towers were buildings. Lights blazed in a thousand windows—ten thousand. Bridges spanned the airy gaps between structures, and figures shuffled across the bridges bearing torches and lanterns which shone even over the mist-filled sea.
All at once the strange hum Avery had heard, and the clangs, and screeches, and the rest, all resolved itself into an unmistakable noise—the noise of a city.
“Gods below,” said Janx.
“Cuithril,” Layanna said.
“Are you certain?” Avery asked.
“Yes. I can feel the altar. We’re here at last.”
Chapter 9
“Just in time,” Janx said, his eyes on a light blinking from the console. “We were about to have to start using this heap as a boat. Get ready to set down.”