Empyrion II: The Siege of Dome

by Stephen Lawhead

  “The sunlight dimmed momentarily as a shadow passed in front of the sun. It was nothing; a cloud perhaps. But a moment later you heard the roar of engines and the whistling scream of the missiles as they fell. You looked up.

  “The blue flash—brighter than ten thousand suns, yet only one hundred meters in diameter—blinded you instantly as the bomb exploded eight hundred meters above the ground. In that split second when the flash was still traveling earthward, the hypocenter reached a temperature of over three million degrees—many times hotter than the surface of your sun.

  “On the ground below, stone buildings melted into pools of glowing lava, metal bridges burst into flame, as did the rivers under them, and ceramic roof tiles boiled. Your people, still looking skyward, the first intimations of terror just beginning to register in the cells of their brains, simply vaporized, the fluids of their bodies turning directly into steam and gas—leaving their shadows etched on walls and pavement.

  “Due to ionization, the churning air filled with the pungent, electric smell of ozone as the blue, sunlit sky flashed to yellow and green and then red-brown as the massive fireball spread, roaring skyward on a lethal plume twenty kilometers high. The vile mushroom cloud rose so high that its intense heat condensed water vapor, and a viscid black rain began to fall—sticky wet lumps of hot radioactive mud sluiced from the skies to pelt down on the survivors.

  “In the first tenth of a second, every living thing in a radius within nine kilometers of ground zero was incinerated, and every building, tree, and shrub, anything standing above the ground level, was blasted into oblivion.

  “A little further out from the epicenter, the damage was more shocking. At a radius of thirty kilometers, people were charcoalized. Mothers fleeing with their babies in their arms, men running to protect their families, everyone standing in the open air when the heat flash swept by was turned into a charcoal statue.

  “Winds of one thousand kilometers per hour followed the heatflash. The terrible winds lifted lighter objects right off the ground or sucked them out through doors and windows of buildings. People were picked up and hurled through the air with incredible force; they became missiles traveling at ferocious speeds to smash into walls and solid objects. Skulls, vertebrae, and long bones were pulverized on impact.

  “Those safe from the winds did not escape the tremendous overpressures that accompanied them. These overpressures produced instantaneous rupture of the lungs and eardrums. Windows were extruded from their frames by the overpressure and then burst into millions of needlelike shards which sliced through the air, penetrating human flesh and producing hideous lacerations.

  “At about fifty kilometers from the epicenter, the heat from the explosion spontaneously ignited trees and vegetation. People were turned into human torches where they stood, and every building became a crematorium.

  “Miraculously, however, some of you survived to wander dazed and bewildered through the glowing ashes, looking for loved ones, lost in a featureless landscape. All landmarks, all orienting points had vanished. Nothing remained but a flat, burned-over prairie.

  “You felt little pain at first. The greater shock of the desolation left no room for normal human suffering. You walked around naked, your clothing having been blown off or burned away. You felt no shame or immodesty, for it was impossible to tell men from women since every sizzled body looked alike.

  “Friends and family members could not recognize one another. Everyone had lost hair and eyebrows; most had their facial features burned off. A man might have the imprint of his nose ‘photographed’ on his cheek, or the remnant of an ear grafted to his neck. Little was left but nondescript indentations for eyes and nose, a lipless slit for a mouth.

  “You reached out to help the more severely injured and drew back hands filled with skin and flesh that slid off bare bone in charred gobbets. Your wounds smoked when dipped in water, and you walked like scarecrows with your arms outstretched to prevent raw skin surfaces from rubbing and sticking together.

  “The lakes and reservoirs were choked with swollen red bodies—victims who had been boiled alive when the water turned to steam. Anyone who happened to witness the flash was instantly blinded, their eyesockets burned hollow. You staggered through the wreckage as the fluid from your melted eyes ran down your cheeks.

  “In the days that followed, many survivors died horribly, retching blood, skin peeling away in sheets. Within twenty-four hours, even those survivors who had escaped serious injury began dying by the thousands. Their brain cells were damaged by radiation, causing their brains to swell inside their craniums and producing severe nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, followed by drowsiness, tremors, seizures, convulsions, and finally, massive internal hemorrhages and respiratory failure.

  “Fallout and radiation continued to take a toll as the weeks passed. At first you felt merely weak or tired; then you began to notice that your hair was falling out, your teeth hurt and your gums bled, you lost your appetite, vomited, and developed bloody diarrhea, you bled under your skin, painful mouth ulcers formed, infections set in, producing fever and coma. Death came slowly, a result of fluid loss and starvation.

  “You died and watched your loved ones die: by the thousands, instantly, and then with agonizing slowness, one by one. Amidst the ruins of your fair homeland, you experienced the ultimate suffering that hate can devise.”

  When Yarden finished, she opened her eyes. The Fieri sat in stunned silence, eyes closed, each face shimmering with silent tears. The day seemed to have grown colder, the sun more distant. The wind and waves had stilled.

  “This happened long ago,” said Yarden simply. “But it will happen again soon. My fellow Traveler, Orion Treet, predicted it and he was right. I know that now. The evil of Dome is growing. Even now its hatred burns against us; soon it will reach out for us.

  “Treet went back to Dome to try to stop his prediction from coming true. He is there now giving his life to prevent the madness from consuming us once more. But time grows short, and Treet needs help.

  “The Protector has sent His messengers, the talking fish, to warn us. Crocker, who returned to Dome with Treet, has appeared in our midst a broken, pathetic husk: another warning of the malicious intent of Dome. We have been forewarned.”

  Yarden paused and looked around the council ring. What were they thinking? Were they with her? Only Anthon appeared supportive, gazing at her directly. It only remained for her to make the appeal.

  “We have been forewarned,” she repeated. “Now we must decide what we will do. As for that, I have no suggestions. I only know that somehow I must go to Dome to add my life, my light, to that of those who struggle against the growing darkness.

  “That’s all I have to say. Thank you for listening to me.” She bowed her head in a fervent prayer that her words had done their work.

  The Preceptor drew herself up. “Yarden has spoken most persuasively. Is there anyone to challenge her argument?”

  The voice of Mathiax sounded over the earplug. “The Clerk acknowledges Mentor Linan.”

  Mentor Linan cleared his throat. “My friends, I am deeply moved by Traveler Yarden’s words, as are we all. I wish to remind this assembly, however, that our response to Dome was chosen from the first. We cannot intervene and still remain Fieri. We have chosen our path and must not abandon it at the first hint of danger. Whatever happens, our strength is not in ourselves, but in the Infinite. By Him we stand or fall.”

  Mentor Bohm answered him at once. “Mentor Linan speaks for many, no doubt. But I would remind him that before abandoning Dome to its evil, our ‘first’ response was to reach out to our brothers. We did not choose our path; it was forced upon us, for there seemed no way to be reconciled to such a hard-hearted and deadly enemy.

  “The agony and horror of the Burning, so vividly rendered for us by Yarden, was fresh when we devised our plan. And while it is true that we live only by the Infinite Father’s light, does it follow that we must continue on a path that has come to
an end?

  “We can no longer allow Dome to breed its darkness and destruction. We are responsible if we withhold the help we could give. We all know that he who commits an evil, sins against the Infinite. But he who permits an evil he could prevent is guilty of the same sin. Is this not a precept among us?

  “We are guilty of that sin, my friends. Too long have we hidden our light from those who labor in darkness, thereby permitting evil to flourish. I believe the time has come to seek a new way. I acknowledge Yarden’s appeal. We must go to Dome. We must find a way to arrest the evil before it destroys again.”

  Bohm had no sooner finished speaking than another Mentor took the floor. “Mentor Bohm is right to remind us of a most apt precept,” the speaker said. “But how do we really know what Dome intends? The presence of the Travelers, remarkable though it is, does not equate with danger. For all we know, Dome is simply living out its perverse destiny. There is no cause for alarm here, surely.”

  And so it went: one Mentor agreeing with Yarden, and another disagreeing, the arguments seesawing back and forth, opinion swaying first one way and then the other. Yarden became weary of the talk, and disheartened. Only Anthon, Talus, and Bohm appeared to support an expedition to Dome outright. Mathiax also supported Yarden’s appeal, but as Clerk of the College, he could not speak for one position or the other. The majority seemed against making any radical changes in policy regarding Dome.

  As the arguments went on and on, Yarden left the circle and went down to walk along the water’s edge. She walked far up the strand, and when the Fieri encampment was small in the distance she sat down and gazed out across the shining bowl of the bay toward the chalk-colored cliffs.

  Beyond those cliffs, and beyond the arid uplands lay the deep sanctuary of the Blue Forest, and beyond the forest rolled the stark and empty hill country where Dome sat brooding.

  I tried, Orion, she thought. God knows I tried. I did the best I knew how. I’m sorry if it wasn’t enough.

  Then she put her head down and cried.

  SIXTY-SIX

  A dismal daylight awakened the rebels to the task of finding a new home among the reeking ruins of the Dhog cemetery. The prospects were not promising. The place was even more desolate and depressing than Treet remembered; besides the cremation mound, there was not another standing structure for a kilometer around. The wasted trees and rock heaps scattered over the area offered little cover and no protection.

  Tvrdy and Kopetch paced off the perimeter and returned grumbling. “It’s little more than hopeless,” announced Kopetch. “Indefensible from any tactical point of view.”

  “We’ll move as soon as we can find a better place,” Tvrdy replied. “I will have scouts begin searching at once.”

  Piipo spoke up. “The Hyrgo fields are not far from here, I believe—unless I am much mistaken. Were we to go there, we would be close to our food source.”

  “It is not far,” Cejka said, “but access is a problem. The Invisibles could reach us easily there.”

  “They’ll find us anywhere we go,” remarked Fertig. “It’s only a matter of time now.” He stared around the group helplessly. “It’s over,” he muttered softly to himself.

  Treet ignored Fertig’s comment. “What about the Bolbe exit?”

  Tvrdy considered this for a moment. “It has possibilities.”

  “Isn’t it a corridor?” asked Cejka.

  “A tunnel,” said Tvrdy. “Originally used for drainage.”

  “A tunnel, yes,” Kopetch nodded, working it out in his head. “Even if they found us, they couldn’t cut off our escape unless they somehow discovered its exit. And we’d only have one front to defend.”

  “An excellent idea!” Tvrdy beamed. “We’ll check it out at once.”

  “Anywhere would have to be better than here.” Treet winced as he looked around. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

  The rest of the day was spent taking stock of the supplies and arranging things for the next move. The camp was silent—depressed, thought Treet, by the dreary surroundings. By midmorning the scouts Tvrdy had sent out returned, and also Bogney, whom no one had seen since the night before.

  He came with six Dhog women dressed in frayed shreds of clothing, each one bearing a rag-wrapped burden on her back. They came into camp a few minutes after the scouts. “I wondered where they had hidden the women and children,” said Kopetch as he watched the women enter warily.

  Bogney and his entourage proceeded to the center of the camp where Treet, Tvrdy, and the others waited. The newcomers stared uneasily at the Tanais, Rumon, and Hyrgo gathered around. “Dhogs bringing some fine gift,” Bogney explained, motioning for the women to put down their burdens.

  “A gift?” wondered Tvrdy. “Why a gift?”

  “Dhogs leaving soon. We be sharing goods with friends, thinking never see no more again.”

  Tvrdy shot a dark glance at a stricken Treet. “Oh? Where are you going, Bogney?”

  “Fierra,” he announced triumphantly. “Fieri man here be leading us.” He grinned hugely at Treet and held out his hands. One of the women unwrapped her burden to bring forth a large plastic bladder filled with a dark liquid. “Tonight we sharing good drink. Tomorrow we gone.”

  “Is that so?” Tvrdy swung to face Treet directly.

  Treet’s mouth worked before the words came tumbling out, “Wait a minute here, Bogney. I didn’t say when we would go. I only said I’d take you.”

  “No making big noises now. Giloon decides. Dhogs ready.”

  Tvrdy smiled suddenly. “We accept your gift,” he said, picking up one of the bladders. He opened it and raised it to his nose. He coughed and shut his eyes, thrusting the bladder from him. “It is most thoughtful of you.”

  “We be drinking tonight. Tomorrow be going to Fierra.”

  Treet stared at Tvrdy as if the Tanais had parted company with his senses. As soon as the liquor had been carefully put away, Treet took Tvrdy aside. “What do you mean by encouraging this ridiculous idea?”

  “What do you mean by making irrational bargains with him? You know Dhogs are like children.”

  “I had to do something. It was the only way I could get him to help us evacuate the wounded. We couldn’t leave them for the Invisibles to find.”

  “Why not?” Tvrdy fixed Treet with a hard, implacable gaze. “Thanks to you, we have saved our wounded. They require food and constant attention; they are a drain on our limited resources. They will die here anyway because we cannot care for them properly. Why not let the Invisibles solve the problem quickly and easily?”

  Treet listened, horrified. “You don’t mean it. Do you hear what you’re saying? You sound like Jamrog!”

  Tvrdy made a face. “It is the voice of reason.”

  “Reason? It’s insanity. This is exactly the kind of coldhearted expediency that loosed the monster in the first place. Tvrdy, listen to me. I know. I’ve read the records. When the Red Death broke out, the survivors fought back with everything they had; but when it looked like they couldn’t win, they began cutting their losses. They abandoned the dying and sealed themselves into survival cells. They began systematically reducing civilization to base utilitarianism.”

  Tvrdy frowned. “It was life or death.”

  “And they chose death, Tvrdy. Don’t you see? Whenever some lives become expendable, whenever some are written off for whatever reason—this one is nonviable, this one nonproductive, this one nonfunctional, this one nonconforming to the party line—when the weak or disagreeable lose their humanity—it’s death, not life.”

  “It was necessary,” replied Tvrdy sullenly. “Inevitable.”

  “True human beings do not make deals with death, Tvrdy. It may well be inevitable, but civilized people do not give up on life; they do not embrace death just because life becomes too hard.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “I told you. I read the records,” said Treet. “Feodr Rumon wrote it down. I know what happened.”
<
br />   “You would have done the same thing. Anyone would.”

  “No, Tvrdy. Some would, it’s true. But not everyone. They had a choice—there’s always a choice. They chose wrong, Tvrdy. The ancestors of Dome chose death rather than life. It was wrong, and you’ve been paying for it ever since.”

  “It can’t be undone now.”

  “No, it can’t be undone, but we don’t have to repeat the same mistake. We can choose differently. If we’re ever to be free of the madness, we have to choose the right way.”

  Tvrdy glared at Treet in silence. It was difficult to tell what the Tanais leader was thinking. “I don’t see what a few wounded have to do with this. They will die anyway.”

  “If you really believe that,” said Treet softly, “then there’s no hope for us.”

  With that, Treet walked off. “Think about it, Tvrdy,” he said turning back. Tvrdy stood where he’d left him, staring at the ground. “You know I’m right.”

  Jaire walked back and forth on the curving crown of the hill. The towering obelisk, with its ring of smaller obelisks throwing long afternoon shadows down the green hill, pointed heavenward as if poised for imminent flight.

  She stopped when she heard the chime, and turned toward the amphidrome. Talus emerged with Mathiax close behind him, the dismissal chime still ringing in the air. “Don’t be angry, Talus,” Mathiax said. “It is more than we had a right to hope for.”

  Jaire hurried toward them. “What is the decision?” She glanced from one to the other of them hopefully, saw their expressions, and asked, “What’s wrong? Will they not allow us to go?”

  “One fleet only,” replied Talus tersely. “And Mathiax is to stay.”

  “We will be in constant communication,” said Mathiax. “I will be as close as your own skin.”

  “It isn’t the same.” Talus stood woodenly, arms folded across his massive chest—like a tree taking root on the sculpted green lawn of the amphidrome.

  “Accept the wisdom of the College,” soothed Mathiax. “It is for the best.”