surroundings so grim? I, personally, would much rather be walking through a sunny orchard or on a pleasant beach.”
“Maybe the passage is taking us hellward.” Todd’s voice echoed through the tunnel and sent the insects rippling in reaction. “Hellward is darker than heavenward.”
“What exactly does that mean, ‘hellward’ and ‘heavenward’?” Andy complained. “Hell and heaven aren’t finite points on a map.”
“No, but the...the gravitational wells of Creation and Destruction warp space into dimensions beyond our own. I detect the varying effects of that warp as heavenward and hellward, even though they aren’t true directions. I have to work within the constraints of my own perceptions and language, too.”
“If this was really hell, there’d be mosquitoes,” Jack observed. “I hate mosquitoes.”
“Don’t give hell any ideas,” Andy chided him.
“The passages are malleable, but not so malleable that a casual thought will affect them.” Todd sounded like he was lecturing. “However, if all three of us began to obsess about a cloud of mosquitoes buzzing around in a swarm of bloodsucking frenzy, landing on our bare flesh and injecting itchy toxins under our—”
“Hah, hah. Very funny, Edward.”
Todd chuckled, deeply. “Well. We’re either here, or we’re not.” The beetles scurried away from his hand, revealing another door. “Let’s find out.”
The door swung open, revealing bright, artificial light that momentarily silhouetted Todd against its brilliance. Then the big man stepped through, and Andy and Jack followed with relief.
The relief vanished a moment later.
The field looked like a war had been fought over it, complete with body parts and broken, overturned equipment. Three large spotlights were on their sides, flickering as their gasoline generators coughed and chugged. The ground was trembling in regular waves, as though stirred by a giant stick.
In the center of the field hovered a cloud of twisting, polymorphous bubbles and tubes made of flesh and hair and claws, floating above a circle of swaying serpents that stretched up toward the sky, their jaws open in high-pitched screams.
Jack gaped, and a line from an old ballad floated through his head:
Rich Diverus, he sickened and died, And two serpents rose from hell, His soul thereto to guide....
The strangest thing, Jack thought with a sense of detachment, was that the creatures all cast long shadows across the field, shadows that stretched across the dirt to end at their very feet.
It was that little detail that made the whole scene so chillingly believable.
Three other humans were already there. To Jack’s right, on the edge of the field by the street, two men knelt in the dirt, staring at the serpents. Beyond the creatures, on the other side of the field, a single man stood upright, his white hair shining like a brand.
Jack’s wards gave a warning tingle as the white-haired man shifted his head to inspect them.
“What in God’s name are they?” Andy breathed, barely audible over the generators and serpentine screaming. He crossed himself. Jack reflexively followed suit.
“Guess that snake wasn’t Leviathan proper,” he said. “Unless it had kids.”
“Are they mal'akhim?”
“I hope so. I can handle mal'akhim. If they’re aliens, we’re screwed.”
“I think that’s Provost Penemue, on the other side of the field.”
“He seems to be taking it better than those other two.”
“He’s watching,” Todd said, a strange note in his voice. Jack glanced at him, then back at the strange display. Whatever was on the big man’s mind came in a poor second to the scene being played out right in front of them.
The floating creatures were dancing, moving inexplicably back and forth, up and down, getting bigger and smaller. The giant, bone-scaled serpents seemed to be singing, or maybe worshipping. They looked like cobras swaying before a snake charmer, except this time it was the cobra
“Maybe the passage is taking us hellward.” Todd’s voice echoed through the tunnel and sent the insects rippling in reaction. “Hellward is darker than heavenward.”
“What exactly does that mean, ‘hellward’ and ‘heavenward’?” Andy complained. “Hell and heaven aren’t finite points on a map.”
“No, but the...the gravitational wells of Creation and Destruction warp space into dimensions beyond our own. I detect the varying effects of that warp as heavenward and hellward, even though they aren’t true directions. I have to work within the constraints of my own perceptions and language, too.”
“If this was really hell, there’d be mosquitoes,” Jack observed. “I hate mosquitoes.”
“Don’t give hell any ideas,” Andy chided him.
“The passages are malleable, but not so malleable that a casual thought will affect them.” Todd sounded like he was lecturing. “However, if all three of us began to obsess about a cloud of mosquitoes buzzing around in a swarm of bloodsucking frenzy, landing on our bare flesh and injecting itchy toxins under our—”
“Hah, hah. Very funny, Edward.”
Todd chuckled, deeply. “Well. We’re either here, or we’re not.” The beetles scurried away from his hand, revealing another door. “Let’s find out.”
The door swung open, revealing bright, artificial light that momentarily silhouetted Todd against its brilliance. Then the big man stepped through, and Andy and Jack followed with relief.
The relief vanished a moment later.
The field looked like a war had been fought over it, complete with body parts and broken, overturned equipment. Three large spotlights were on their sides, flickering as their gasoline generators coughed and chugged. The ground was trembling in regular waves, as though stirred by a giant stick.
In the center of the field hovered a cloud of twisting, polymorphous bubbles and tubes made of flesh and hair and claws, floating above a circle of swaying serpents that stretched up toward the sky, their jaws open in high-pitched screams.
Jack gaped, and a line from an old ballad floated through his head:
Rich Diverus, he sickened and died, And two serpents rose from hell, His soul thereto to guide....
The strangest thing, Jack thought with a sense of detachment, was that the creatures all cast long shadows across the field, shadows that stretched across the dirt to end at their very feet.
It was that little detail that made the whole scene so chillingly believable.
Three other humans were already there. To Jack’s right, on the edge of the field by the street, two men knelt in the dirt, staring at the serpents. Beyond the creatures, on the other side of the field, a single man stood upright, his white hair shining like a brand.
Jack’s wards gave a warning tingle as the white-haired man shifted his head to inspect them.
“What in God’s name are they?” Andy breathed, barely audible over the generators and serpentine screaming. He crossed himself. Jack reflexively followed suit.
“Guess that snake wasn’t Leviathan proper,” he said. “Unless it had kids.”
“Are they mal'akhim?”
“I hope so. I can handle mal'akhim. If they’re aliens, we’re screwed.”
“I think that’s Provost Penemue, on the other side of the field.”
“He seems to be taking it better than those other two.”
“He’s watching,” Todd said, a strange note in his voice. Jack glanced at him, then back at the strange display. Whatever was on the big man’s mind came in a poor second to the scene being played out right in front of them.
The floating creatures were dancing, moving inexplicably back and forth, up and down, getting bigger and smaller. The giant, bone-scaled serpents seemed to be singing, or maybe worshipping. They looked like cobras swaying before a snake charmer, except this time it was the cobra
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