by John Wilson
Baleful dreams awake,
Then sunlight, eon-aged and luminous,
Must bright the dreadful ink-dark streets,
B’yond eldritch vaults of time.
And one from abyss black
And prehistoric depths must call,
The prime of three to bind once more
The sundered chains of sleep
Upon the ghastly Ancient One.
“The first two lines tell us that the Ancient One is in deathlike sleep in R’lyeh,” she explained.
“Okay, I get that. But what about death dying and baleful dreams?”
“I think that’s Hei and Leon waking Cthulhu and your dreams. They’re obviously related. The aged and luminous sunlight illuminating dark streets does sound like here.”
“That makes sense, I guess, but then what’s the abyss? And what does the bit about three broken chains mean?”
“That might be a reference to the three pieces of the Golden Mask, but I’m not sure about that,” Cate admitted. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to work it out.”
Howard had been hoping a lot of things recently, and it hadn’t done much good. But he pushed back the thought of what it might mean if they couldn’t work it out.
As they progressed, the buildings got larger. The towers were taller—some two or three times the height of the one they had climbed. Most were broken, but a couple tapered to narrow pinnacles. There were archways in impossible places, stairs that led nowhere and roofs where floors should have been. The remains of narrow walkways projected from some of the towers and pyramids. Most ended in jagged broken blocks, but a few spanned incredible distances to join with other buildings. It made his heart race just to think about crossing these soaring, unprotected pathways. One of the inverted pyramids loomed over them threateningly. Howard looked up as they passed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was looking down.
“It’s us!” Cate exclaimed, stopping in midstride.
“What is?”
“Well, not us exactly,” she corrected, showing Howard the map she had been looking at. “I think it’s the position of the map.” She pointed to the bright spot. “The point moves when we do. It seems to know where it is.”
“A GPS system,” Howard said. “But it’s not accurate. We’re obviously on a road, but the bright spot is in the middle of a space between the arms.”
“I know. The spot moves when we move, turns in the right direction when we turn corners, but the route we’re on bears no relation to any of the arms marked on the map. I don’t understand it.”
“I don’t have a clue how it works either,” Howard said, “so I guess all we can do is keep watching, and maybe it’ll make sense eventually.”
Cate didn’t seem convinced, but they continued their journey.
They walked on for a couple of hours, climbing and descending a huge overpass when the road they were on crossed one running at a different angle.
“How much time do you think has passed back in our world?” Howard asked once they were back on a flat road.
“Impossible to say. Time moves at different rates in different dimensions, but I have no idea of the relationship between two specific dimensions. It might even be possible for time to move backward in one dimension relative to another.”
Howard walked on in silence, trying to get his head around the idea that what seemed to be a few hours here could conceivably be only seconds in Aylford. Possibly several days had flown past, and his mom was having a fit, wondering where he’d gone. Whatever speed time was moving at in Aylford, it was a good thing his mom didn’t know where he was. He thought of asking Cate what would happen if time in Aylford was moving backward and they arrived home the previous Wednesday and met themselves, but he decided against it.
Beside him, she switched the head lamp on. As soon as she did, Howard realized that it was getting darker everywhere at once, as if someone were slowly turning a dimmer switch. Was it night in this strange world? The thought terrified him. Daytime, when he could see as far as he wanted, was bad enough. What would darkness be like with only Cate’s head lamp and his cell phone to show the way? He was in the middle of working up a good worry when they turned a corner and arrived at the center of the city.
The central square was even more vast than it had looked from the ruined tower. The paved open area was easily large enough to hold most of Aylford, and the two jawlike buildings in the middle were like two cruise ships sitting on their sterns.
Awed by the scale, Howard and Cate walked forward. It was still light enough to see across the square, but details on the buildings were vague. As they progressed, they passed scattered stone pedestals covered in the same hieroglyphic writing they had seen on the archway, but a lot of it looked as if it had been deliberately chiseled out to make it unreadable.
“Can you make out anything it says?” Howard asked.
“Not much. It was probably about whatever once stood on top of each plinth. And whatever those things were, it looks as if they were torn down and broken up,” she said, pointing to the piles of rubble around the bases of each pedestal.
Howard was relieved that the statues had been destroyed. Some of the fragments were large enough to suggest things that couldn’t possibly have existed in any world he was familiar with.
As they approached the central buildings in the fading light, Howard noticed black patches on the walls that faced each other. He pointed them out to Cate, who aimed her head lamp at one. It looked like a package wrapped in old paper or torn parchment and stuck to the otherwise smooth surface.
Howard was about to mention the rustling noise he could hear when the package they were looking at unwrapped itself. With a sickening, high-pitched scream, something hideous—an incubus of scales, horns and claws—spread a pair of tattered, leathery wings and dropped toward them.
R’LYEH
THE ABYSS
“Run!”
Cate’s advice was hardly necessary. They had barely taken three steps when Howard heard the scrabble of the creature’s claws on the stone behind them. Cate abruptly changed direction, and he followed. Heimao kept straight on and disappeared behind a pile of rubble. There were more ruined statues and fallen rubble between the two monstrous buildings, and the pair struggled to find their way in the fading light. At last they stopped, breathing heavily. Cate turned off her head lamp, and they slumped down behind a carved plinth.
The horrific creature advanced slowly, checking every fragment of darker shadow as it went. It didn’t move very efficiently on the ground, and they had left it some distance behind. But they could hear it calling a thin, childlike scream as it searched for them.
“What is that thing?” Howard whispered.
Quietly Cate replied, “It’s said that the Elder Gods were expert at manipulating the creatures they found, turning them into whatever they needed. I think what attacked us was a night-gaunt, a vicious creature designed to protect the city.”
“You know a lot,” Howard said in awe.
“I read too much.”
“Do you think Heimao will be all right?”
A voice echoed from far away. “I’m a black cat on a dark night. What do you think?”
“Could we have been wrong about coming through the arch?” Howard asked Cate.
“Not that, no. But perhaps we weren’t supposed to come exactly here. There’s nothing but ruins and night-gaunts.”
Howard risked a look around the plinth to see if he could spot the one that was chasing them. The darkness was thickening, and at first he saw nothing but shadow. Then a piece of the shadow moved. With a loud screech the night-gaunt hopped onto a pedestal not more than thirty feet away and cocked its head as if listening.
Howard got his first good look at the creature, and it was not encouraging. The beast was about the size of a grown man and lightly built. Its fingers and toes ended in viciously curved claws, as did the bones supporting the wings that grew from behind its shoulders. Two curving horns spr
outed from its head, and, most disturbing of all, it had no face. As Howard watched, its wings spread and, with a couple of ponderous beats, launched the creature into the air.
“It’s searching for us,” he said, pulling back out of sight.
“And it’s not alone,” Cate added, pointing up.
All across the faces of the two buildings, night-gaunts were waking up, stretching their wings and dropping into the air. Most were spiraling aimlessly, but several were coming closer.
“We have to move,” she said.
“Where?” Howard asked. Nowhere he could see was any better than where they were.
“Maybe we can get inside.” Cate pointed to the closer of the two buildings. “We can’t stay out in the open. Once it’s completely dark, we’ll be at the mercy of those things.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Howard forced himself to his feet.
The first night-gaunt hit them before they’d run five steps. Howard felt a searing pain as its talons ripped long gouges across his shoulders. He managed to keep his feet and lunge sideways. They evaded the second attack, but the wing of the third night-gaunt caught Cate on the cheek, leaving a nasty cut.
They darted, lunged, leaped and stumbled, desperately trying to make their movement as unpredictable as possible. The night-gaunts were blind, but they clearly had some other form of navigation, like a bat’s sonar. Howard and Cate had an advantage as long as the light lasted, but it was getting darker by the minute. Then it would all be over. The night-gaunts would continue to slash, cut and tear until they hit something vital or until Howard and Cate were so weakened by loss of blood that they couldn’t go on.
The pair staggered over increasing amounts of rubble, trying to keep as close as possible to the plinths, where the night-gaunts had more trouble swooping in on them. Even so, they were exhausted and bleeding from a dozen slashes by the time they heard a familiar voice say, “This way.”
Cate stopped so suddenly that Howard steamrolled into her back, and they both fell just as a huge night-gaunt swept its dagger-claws through the air above them.
“Over here! This way!” Aileen’s voice urged.
Howard squinted into the darkness and saw an arm beckoning from a patch of deep shadow at the base of the closest building. “Come on,” he said to Cate.
It was not far to run, but both got hit once more before they arrived at a narrow doorway in the ground.
“One at a time.” Aileen’s voice came from the blackness. “Feet first.”
Howard ushered Cate in and saw her disappear. Just as he was sitting down to go next, a night-gaunt made a final attack, and the tip of a claw raked across his forehead. Then he was in a tunnel, sliding painfully down a sloping, narrow ramp into total darkness. It was a short slide, and he was soon beside Cate on level ground.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” Cate replied.
“You can stand up,” Aileen said. “There’s room, and the night-gaunts can’t get down the tunnel.”
“So you made it.” Heimao’s voice came from the same place as Aileen’s.
“No thanks to you,” Howard said.
“And I was supposed to do what? Sacrifice myself? I hardly think that would have stopped them for long.”
Choosing not to reply, Howard stood up and helped Cate to her feet. She switched on her head lamp and turned to their rescuer. Howard almost collapsed in shock.
“Hello,” Madison said in Aileen’s voice. “You seem to have had a rough time with the night-gaunts.”
“Madison—is that you?” he stuttered.
“In a way,” she said with a puzzled frown. “I think I’m also asleep on the white ship. Maybe I’m having a dream.”
“Dreaming this?”
Madison shook her head. “A much more pleasing dream. But we have to go. We don’t have much time, and you must reach the Abyss.” She turned away.
Howard looked at Cate, who simply shrugged as she and Heimao followed Madison. He was left to trudge behind, dragging the weight of a million more questions with him.
The group wended their way through twisting tunnels and corridors. Occasionally they crossed larger chambers, one of which was filled with the crawling sea creatures from the beach. But when the creatures approached, Madison intoned something, and they slunk off into the darkness.
Eventually they entered a chamber so vast that Cate’s head lamp could not pick out the walls or roof—but it did pick out the sharp edge of a hole in the floor. There was no sign of the far edge. The nearer they got to the precipice, the more nervous Howard became. A cold wind blew out of the pit, and it carried faint sounds of waves and a musical whistling. The aching loneliness of the journey between dimensions returned.
“The Abyss,” Madison said as she beckoned them forward.
To Howard’s great relief, she indicated that they should lie down. They did, then peered over the edge.
Howard could see nothing but blackness. The wind was icy on his face, and the unearthly music chilled his soul. He could distinctly hear waves crashing on a shingle beach and wondered if this was a link to the dimension Hei and Leon had taken them to. He prayed it wasn’t, because it was where Cthulhu was, and he really didn’t want to be close to that monstrosity ever again.
“Do you hear it?” Madison said. “It’s the music of infinity.”
“Yes,” Howard said.
“No,” Cate said.
He twisted his head to look at her. How could she not hear it? He pushed back from the edge and sat up. Cate joined him.
“The music of infinity was played by the Elder Gods to trap and hold Cthulhu,” Madison explained. “Only a few with great power can hear it.”
“If the music’s still playing,” he asked, “why is Cthulhu waking up?”
“Because someone has found a way to weaken the sound.”
Howard thought for a moment. “It’s me, isn’t it? I have the power to weaken the hold of the music and release that horror we saw. That’s why Hei and Leon were using me.”
Madison nodded sadly. “With great power comes great responsibility, but the responsibility cannot be learned if the bearer of the power doesn’t realize he has it. You are an innocent with a gift—or a curse—that you don’t understand. You don’t have time to learn, and that leaves your power open to be used by others. When you were by the ocean, you were scared, yes?”
“I was terrified,” Howard said.
“And your fear increased?”
“Of course it did. When that thing rose from the island, I was scared witless.”
“You haven’t learned the discipline to control your power, so it feeds on your emotion. When you’re worried or angry or scared, the power surges. When you’re calm, it lies dormant. That’s why Leon took you to the ocean shore. He terrified you to make the power work for his dark purposes, just as Cate made you angry to escape the stone circle.”
“So I’m the cause of all this chaos? I’m bringing on the end of the world?”
“Unwittingly, yes.”
Howard felt crushed by the responsibility and by what he was. He looked over at Cate, but she was staring at the ground, her expression grim. Even Heimao had her back turned.
“What can I do to make it right?” he asked miserably.
There was a long pause, during which the alien music from the Abyss got louder, swelling to drown out Howard’s thoughts.
“There’s only one thing you can do,” Madison said. Her voice was soft and filled with an almost unbearable sadness.
“What is it?” he asked. “I’ll do anything.”
Cate looked up, took a deep breath and said, “You have to die.”
R’LYEH
THE GOLDEN MASK
The music was too loud. Howard had misheard. She must have said “try” and not “die.”
“What do I have to try?” he asked.
As soon as he saw the desolation in Cate’s eyes, he knew he hadn’t misheard. “It’s impossible,” he said
, knowing full well that, like all the other times he’d said something was impossible, he was wrong.
Slowly he got to his feet. “This can’t be the only way. There must be something else. You’re an Adept, Cate.” He turned to Madison. “And you’re a sorceress who can travel through time and between dimensions. It can’t all depend on me dying.”
Madison’s face became hard, and she stared at Howard with a coldness that made him tremble with fright. Cate let out a series of shuddering sobs.
It was true? This strange being who had taken over Madison and the girl he thought was his best friend were going to kill him?
“Cate,” he pleaded.
Her eyes were wide beneath her dark fringe, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked helpless and…beautiful. Then she closed her eyes, gave a single choking sob and lowered her head.
“I won’t let this happen!” Howard felt anger surge through him, overwhelming the fear. Darkness edged into his vision, forming a tunnel. At the center of the tunnel stood Madison, cold and uncaring. Howard took a step forward. He saw Madison’s lips move and felt his muscles seize in midstride. He was paralyzed, just as he had been at the beach, but this time no one was going to rescue him. All Madison needed to do was push him over the edge of the Abyss and leave him to die in a broken heap at the bottom—or, worse, to fall forever in an eternity of frightful, monstrous loneliness in the sickening emptiness of nowhere.
Rage overwhelmed him. Darkness blinded him. He forced his lips to move and screamed into the darkness, “No! I won’t let you do this! I’ll fight to my very last breath!” He was grinding his teeth, and his arms and legs shook with the effort of trying to move.
“Leave him alone!”
The shock of hearing the familiar voice cut through Howard’s rage. The blackness retreated. Five minutes earlier Leon would have been the last person Howard wanted to see stepping forward out of the darkness. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Leave him alone,” Leon repeated. “I need him.”
His voice was recognizably Leon’s, yet it was different. It was flat and emotionless, like Hei’s. He was Hei and Leon in the same way that Madison was Aileen and Madison.