by Adrian Cole
“But where did they take Bannerman’s body?” interrupted Darkwing. “I can’t see anything behind the altar.”
They looked as one, but the far wall was solid, its carved relief and contorted glyphs undisturbed, dust filming it. But Reverence was studying the stone floor. In the dust there, he saw scuff marks, a clear footprint. “Bring the light,” he called to Konnar, who obliged at once.
In its shifting glow, they all saw a circular design in the stone, the centre of which had been stamped with a face out of madness, a howling, demonic evil. If it had been put there to deter the curious, it failed to impress the Barbarian. He handed the candleholder to Cradoc and used the tip of his sword to dig out the edges of the circle. He had recognised what it was.
“A door,” he said. He poked at the screaming demon-mouth with his blade and worked it free of dust and dirt. A ring was exposed.
“That’s where they went,” said Mears with a shudder. “Though God alone knows where it leads.”
Cradoc needed no further prompting. He eased everyone back and gripped the ring with both of his enormous paws. The stone lid, which would have needed a dozen men to lift, came up effortlessly and the Mire-Beast flung it to one side where it crashed in a miniature dust storm. Everyone fell back, coughing and half choking as a miasma blew up from the depths of the revealed darkness. Only the Mire-Beast seemed wholly unaffected. It bent over the hole, searching whatever horrors lurked within it. Then it turned to Konnar, nodding.
The Barbarian held the candles over the pit. “Steps,” he announced, waiting.
“So what do we do now?” said Nightmare. “Mr. Reverence? What do ya think?”
“We know they’re taking Bannerman to Fung Chang. I think it unlikely that they would expect us to follow.”
“Surely you don’t intend to go down there?” said Jameson. “There’s just a handful of us, Reverence.”
“Yes, quite so. We will need reinforcements. But some of us must follow. We have to get into the citadel. The five who are six, as we have been named, ought to go. As Mr. Mears said, combined we are the one thing that Fung Chang most wants, yet most fears. I suggest that we go, while you, Mr. Nightmare, go back to Riderman with the others and tell them where we are. The Temple of the Five Winds will be the focal point of this invasion. Riderman will need to gather together every shred of support and breach its outer walls, while we attack from within.”
“Yeah, makes sense,” nodded Nightmare. “You guys are taking a helluva risk, though.”
“Time is not with us,” countered Reverence.
“I agree,” said the Barbarian. “So does Cradoc.”
Reverence turned to Mears. “Mr. Mears, you have been invaluable. You are the one person here who understands a lot of what is going on. How is your fortitude?”
“Sadly lacking,” Mears said, trying to grin. “But you want me to go down there with you. I’d rather drop naked into a snake-pit, but if you insist.”
“I don’t insist, Mr. Mears. I deal in practicalities.”
“Fine, fine,” Mears grunted. “But we could do with some light. The candles won’t last more than five minutes.”
Konnar had disappeared from sight, already probing the pit. In answer to Mears’ words, he re-emerged with a broom-shaped faggot. “They needed light, too,” he said. “There are several of these set in the wall below.” He jabbed it at Cradoc, who set it alight with the candles and then lightly tossed the holder aside.
“I’ll get going,” said Nightmare. “Watch your step, you guys.” He waved his gun and spun on his heel, trotting back down the aisle to the collapsed doors.
Mears watched him go with undisguised envy.
Darkwing patted him gently on the back. “Chin up, Mears. Isn’t that what you guys say?”
Mears tried to voice a glib reply, but his throat had dried up.
“Cradoc will lead us,” said Konnar. “None better under the earth. He hears and sees things down there that pass us by.”
“I can’t argue with that,” chuckled Darkwing. “I prefer the sky myself, but needs must when the Devil drives.”
Cradoc took the burning faggot and descended, Konnar at his back, and Reverence followed. Jameson glared at the darkness below, but nevertheless went down into it.
“I’ll cover your back,” Darkwing told Mears. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not going to enjoy this any more than you are. Some hero, eh?”
The stone steps were ancient beyond imagining and curled in a tight spiral ever downwards as if they would plumb the catacombs of hell itself. But the Mire-Beast led the party on in silence, the faggot throwing the circular walls into sharp relief. From time to time a weird carving or group of glyphs smudged them, but otherwise it was an uneventful journey to the bottom of the steps. A tunnel had been gouged out of the earth here and the Mire Beast studied its earthen floor. He showed something to Konnar.
“It is them,” the Barbarian told the group. “Recent. Cradoc can follow their trail as easily as a hound scents a rabbit.”
They pressed on, Cradoc bent low in the narrow confines of the tunnel, the air stale, the earth walls damp. It was like wriggling down a drain, Mears thought. Behind him and Darkwing he could feel the world being closed off as though the tunnel was shutting them in, swallowing them, digesting them. He tried to rid his mind of such disturbing images, but only succeeded in replacing them with others that were as bad. What had created this tunnel? No human hands had shaped it. And what sort of being traversed it? The floor was smooth, as though a huge worm had crawled endlessly to and fro along it, or a slug or sea creature, but of what dimensions?
For an hour or more the company pressed on doggedly down the tunnel. Something had been occurring to Mears, something again tied up with the things he had once read for entertainment.
“Mr. Jameson,” he said softly, not daring to raise his voice. “Can you ask Konnar something? Does Cradoc know which direction we are heading in?”
“I’ll find out,” said the doctor. He spoke to Reverence and a moment or two later turned back to Mears. “We seem to be heading due east.”
“But that can’t be right,” murmured Mears.
The company stopped and did their best to make enough room to have a discussion. Reverence studied Mears’ worried face with interest.
“What is it, Mr. Mears?” he asked gently.
“We must be well beyond Dunsmouth by now. But if we are going due east, then we will be under the sea. The quayside was east of the town, wasn’t it?” He turned to Darkwing at his shoulder for confirmation.
“He’s right. I saw the quay when I was reconnoitering.”
“Can Cradoc confirm this?” Reverence asked Konnar, but the huge head of the Mire-Beast was already nodding. Cradoc indicated the ceiling of the tunnel, inches above him. It was weeping.
“So where the heck are we heading?” said Darkwing. “The Temple of Seven Winds is back in Pulp City. That’s south west of Dunsmouth.”
“I regret now,” said Reverence, “that we didn’t bring Mr. Nightmare with us. He’d know the geography. I made the mistake of thinking Ricketts and his motley crew would simply make their way back to Fung Chang.”
“Maybe they are,” said Mears.
“By heading east?” said Darkwing. “So what’s out there?”
“I’m guessing,” said Mears, trying not to let the dread flood back into his veins anew. “But there could well be a reef or two above us, several miles from the shore. Maybe even an island. And if so, it would be as shunned and cursed as Dunsmouth. About as isolated a place as you could find.”
“Well, Mr. Mears,” said Reverence, “your guesses have proved all too accurate up to now. And what you are suggesting makes perfect sense.”
Yes, thought Mears. But what, exactly, swims in those waters about the reef?
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Ritual on the Reef
Nightmare, chest heaving with effort, finished his report and downed the stiff whisky Riderman had given him. The
private eye was first back to the Annabella Hotel, his companions already out in the city, pulling together as many resources as they could.
“We’ll concentrate all our efforts on the Temple of Seven Winds,” said Riderman. “One way or another, we must breach its walls. Reverence and the others will work most effectively from within. Nick, we’ll need Lentullus and as many of his men as he can spare. We must deflect as much of Fung Chang’s attention as possible. Let Grimsfeather go to him at once.”
“I’m already on my way,” Nightmare grinned, closing the door behind him.
Riderman turned to where Annabella sat on the settee. “Are you sure you’ll be all right here?” he said tenderly, dropping down beside her.
“Henry, I’m fine now. I’m not made of glass. And if you think I’m going to sit here twiddling my thumbs while you and your colleagues strike back at that villain —”
“If you must contribute, dear lady, then organise the medical support. I hate to say it, but it will be needed. Get as many nursing staff as possible to the area around the Temple of Seven Winds. Once this shindig gets under way, all hell will break loose.”
* * * *
At last the tunnel debouched into a much larger area that resembled a huge sepulchre. Its curved sides were built of slate-like rock and overhead its dome was supported by a number of pillars. These were entwined with more bas-reliefs and grotesque carvings, a mixture of mutated creature and demonic quasi-human. A number of tunnels led off it in various directions and it took Cradoc a while to sniff out the one that Ricketts and his company had taken. Mears saw thankfully that it was larger than the others, its sides curiously bricked, though they dripped with slime and algae. As the company entered, again led by Cradoc, Mears and Darkwing heard sounds behind them.
“You heard it, too?” said the American.
Mears nodded. “A sort of muttering —”
“A lot of it. And from all sides. Coming down those wormholes. Konnar! Let’s make it a quick exit. We’re about to have company.”
They moved on down the brick tunnel at once, able to do so much more quickly, though the stone floor was slick and treacherous, causing all of them to slither and stumble more than once. Behind them they could hear the disturbing sounds of the pursuit, a babbling of deep-throated voices, more batrachian than human. From time to time they passed branch tunnels, and it seemed as if further sounds came from them, as though a living tide lapped ever closer to them.
Darkwing kept throwing a look back for a sign of what came after. All he saw in the dim glow of the torchlight were writhing, humped shapes, dozens of creatures fused into one wriggling mass, tumbling over themselves, almost flowing forward. He took something from his cape and sent a beam of laser light back at the pursuit. There was a sharp hiss and a guttural cry, followed by the repellant stench of charred flesh, though what flesh it was they could not speculate. But it bought them a few precious minutes.
They came out into another round chamber, like a huge chimney that reached up to the surface. A crude stairway had been cut into its curving sides, though the steps were thick with weed and ran with a miniature cascade of seawater. Cradoc was first to it, holding aloft the firebrand, which was burning very low. He indicated that they should all climb, no matter how dangerous.
“What the heck can be up there?” Darkwing muttered. “Can you see anything?”
But Mears was watching the tunnel behind. The pursuit had slowed, but it came on inexorably. And he could see the outlines of the first creatures. They were more worm than man, flopping forward on limb-like fins, rubbery mouths gaping, toothless but no less ghastly for all that.
Cradoc led the way up, but Konnar leapt back to stand beside Darkwing, sword gripped eagerly in his massive fist. “You go on up. I’ve a mind to skewer a few of these hell-spawned vermin.”
Under different circumstances, Mears would have laughed, but the sheer horror of what was following, massing in the tunnel, turned his bowels to water. He wasted no time in scurrying after Reverence and Jameson, who were already several steps up the oozing stairway. He heard the Barbarian howl something as he chopped at the creatures of the earth, but his whole concentration now was on the steps and ensuring that he did not slip off and fall.
Darkwing gripped his elbow and saved him from disaster more than once. He seemed better able to deal with the dangerous surface. Up ahead, the others moved as fast as they dared. The Barbarian, still snarling like a lion at bay, backed up the first steps, blade swinging, biting deep into the horrors that gaped for him or reached out with blubbery tendrils. His energy was extraordinary, but Mears knew that even he couldn’t possibly keep it up indefinitely. Darkwing must have had the same thought, for he made Konnar swap places, using his own weapon to drive the pursuers back.
The climb seemed interminable, and when the firebrand went out, plunging the stair into numbing darkness, Mears felt himself swaying dizzily. I’m going to pass out! His mind shrieked. For God’s sake, I’m going to pass out! He fought the waves of nausea, losing his grip on awareness. But a shout from above douched him like cold water.
“Stars! The open air’s above us!” cried Reverence.
It was enough to spur them all on and in a moment they had no need of the torchlight. Another fifty feet and they would be above ground. Starlight, though faint, illuminated the top of the shaft. Below, Konnar had again taken over from Darkwing.
“Jeeze, I wouldn’t like to upset this guy,” Darkwing told Mears. “Talk about a one man army. Imagine him with a machine gun!”
“They’re giving up!” called the Barbarian. “They don’t want to leave their pits.”
“They’re welcome to them,” Darkwing snorted. “Come on, Konnar. The surface.”
Cradoc emerged from the shaft first, pausing to study the terrain. A strange landscape met his gaze. It was an island, but as the moon, bloated and swollen, bulged out from behind a bank of thick cloud, Cradoc saw that it was a reef. Huge matted tangles of weed were strewn over its surface and a hundred rock pools reflected the moonlight like a field of broken glass. Some distance away, far down a long slope of mingled coral and rock, the sea eased forward, its surface as black as tar, uncannily calm.
Cradoc helped his companions out of the shaft. Konnar came out last, his blade thick with the gore of the things he had killed. He paused for a last stare down into the hole, nodding in grim satisfaction and wiped his blade carefully on a strand of weed.
“My guess is that light, no matter how weak, is hateful to them,” he said.
“So where are we?” said Darkwing.
Reverence was pointing to the ridge ahead. “That would seem to be a convenient vantage point.”
Cradoc was nodding. He also indicated the jagged coral that led upwards. He had again picked up the trail of the creatures they were following.
“We’d better be careful,” said Jameson. “They can’t be far away now.”
“Unless they were picked up by a boat,” said Reverence.
“We may need one, too,” said Mears.
“He’s right,” said Darkwing. “I’m no expert in these matters, but this reef looks to me like it spends most of its time underwater.” The others only needed to look around at the glistening rocks to know that he was right.
“I can’t imagine the tide getting much lower,” said Mears.
Rather than discuss it further, they all followed Cradoc up the broken surface of the reef to the ridge, careful once they got there to keep low. The moonlight, now pale but vivid, picked them out like crabs scuttling upwards. In the rocks around them, life stirred, though they saw nothing clearly.
When they reached the crest of the ridge, they all gaped at what they saw beyond. Even Konnar, who of all of them had been in the strangest of places, looked confused. The top of the reef was unnaturally flat, as if it had been artificially levelled. A wide semi-circle of sand was edged with low slabs of rock that must have been set in a rough geometrical pattern, like menhirs. Interspersed with
them were the most bizarre weed growths the company had yet seen, so large as to appear like shrubs. Their rubbery trunks were thick, topped with a mass of weedy foliage. There was no breeze, but they rippled. Like another world, Mears thought. Even here, this is totally alien.
“Have they been here?” Reverence said to Cradoc.
The huge figure stepped out on to the sand of the amphitheatre. Like a great wolfhound, he sniffed the air. Of this odd company, he alone looked as if he might have belonged in this tortured landscape. He pointed. Between two of the larger stones, a path had been carved in the rock, leading down beyond the ridge.
Konnar investigated, calling the others over. From this vantage point, they could see beyond the reef, out across the open sea. A few miles away, rearing up out of the water, was an island, its base ringed with sloping banks of coral that gleamed in the moonlight. But the island itself was as freakish as the reefs. Its shape was curious, all angles and blocks, as if it had been carved, fashioned from an upthrust of granite, its walls like the walls of a giant quarry. It was several hundred feet high.
“What the Devil is it?” said Jameson, gaping at those chiseled stones.
“The Devil indeed,” nodded Reverence. “I doubt if his hands could have wrought such a monstrous edifice with more evil ingenuity.”
“Rock from the stars,” said Konnar. “These things we have seen, these creatures of the pits — they worship that stone, and the forces within it.”
“A meteor?” said Jameson. “Yes, that would explain it. But as you say, Reverence, it has the look of a building.”
Cradoc was again pointing and following his outstretched arm, they could all see the zigzagging path that ran down the back of the reef to a long spine of mud. This ran across the black waters like the emerging hump of a sea creature and linked up with the island.
“No boat, after all,” said Reverence. “They crossed there.”
“What about the tide?” said Darkwing. “Once it comes in again, we’ll be cut off. And like you say, no boat. That’s one long swim!” he grinned.
