by Jack Conner
“And you suspect that Sartrand and his colleagues are Muugists?” Off her nod, he said, “If that’s true, why would they help you?”
“They don’t care about me. They want the Device. And what they want with that I’m not sure. But if they’re really Muugists their ultimate goal would be to open a gateway or otherwise bring the Muug here.”
Avery shuddered. “Could the Device do that?”
“Not in its present form, no. But if its functions could be reversed to amplify our extra-dimensional technology, as the Octunggen desire, and if Sartrand truly possesses technology lost to the rest of us, like the machine he must have used to locate me aboard the Surugal, or some machine that can teleport him from place to place—as he seems to have done then—then they could use the Device to make such a machine exponentially more powerful. Powerful enough even, theoretically, to summon the Muug.”
Avery digested this. “So ... if we did call for Sartrand’s help ... we might be damning the world. Or am I misreading the Muug?”
“I would say they would lay waste to the planet, but that would be a lie. They would do far worse things. They would pervert your world beyond all understanding, even mine. They would make it a shrine to certain of the Outer Lords.”
“But you serve the Outer Lords.”
“They’re our gods, yes, or some of them. That does not mean we don’t fear them, and with good reason. We worship at a distance. And certainly not those Lords.”
Lapsing into silence, they wound up through the town, and Avery tried to banish the dismal thoughts. He and the others wouldn’t call on Sartrand. They could not. Whatever happened, they would have to solve their own problems.
“Layanna,” he said hesitantly, not sure he wanted an answer to his next question. “What are the Outer Lords? I’ve heard you speak of them. I know they’re your deities, but ... what are they?”
She frowned. “Gods, of course. Beings on high. Primarily we worship their Heralds. The great Yreg-ngad, Cancer of Worlds. Us’gu’thun, the All-Heart, Lord of the Diamond Hell. Osgos, the Horned Star. Ul’saar, Master of the Labyrinth.”
Avery asked no more about them. The Cancer of Worlds ...
He and Layanna reached the tip of a ruined, rusty tower, with the panorama of the ragged city stretched all around them. Lights twinkled from a hundred windows where the worshippers of the Black Sect had made their temporary abodes. It was surreal and homey at the same time. From somewhere music drifted, simple guitar and pipe music. Avery imaged a father and uncle entertaining their family as they gathered about some fire in a ruined vagrant’s home.
“Pleasant,” he said.
”Yes.” She sounded distracted.
He caught her staring at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Is it this?” he said, indicating his face. “Am I ... am I abhorrent?”
She smiled. “No. Not at all. The truth is now you’re more attractive to me than you were.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it.”
She kissed him. “What I mean is ... now you’re one with the sea. You and I, we’re more connected than we were.”
That relieved him. If he had become disgusting to her, he would have been crestfallen.
“I’m an extradimensional being,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Yes, in a way. But not like I am. You’re simply tapped into energies that you weren’t before. It’s almost like you’re a living echo of them. Bathed in them, but weak, unable to access them.”
“But enough to be a sacrifice?”
She looked away. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that.”
“I hope you don’t try to eat me the next time we make love.”
She glanced back at him now, and this time she wore a mischievous smile. “No promises.”
He laughed, and they kissed, and for the first time in a long while he felt things were going to be all right.
However, when they parted, her distracted expression returned.
“What is it?”
In a small voice, she said, “It’s happening, Francis.”
“What?”
She sounded pained. “Our spies just reported it in the last few days.”
“What?”
“The gathering of the Collossum. I didn’t want to worry you ... when you were in fever ... but now that you’re well ... now that you’ve survived ...”
“Just tell me.”
“The Collossum have been gathering all the last week. Just today the second to last of the stragglers trickled in. Whatever their purpose, whatever their agenda, the Elders will reveal it soon.”
“When?”
“They won’t waste time. We’ve learned that the last Collossum will be arriving tomorrow morning. That means the Elders will address the gathering no later than tomorrow, which happens to coincide with one of our holy days.”
He stared at her, stunned. “Are you sure?”
“I wish it had come later. You’re not well enough to go. I—I’m afraid you poisoned yourself for nothing.”
He stood straighter. “No. I didn’t. I’ll go tomorrow.”
“But—”
“No!” He made his voice firm. “I am going.”
She stared at him, then nodded slowly. “Very well. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Layanna took his hand. “Francis, if you’re really going—”
“I am.”
“—then I need to teach you some things first.”
Wind blew up from the abyss, strangely warm. It swirled about the tower and pushed against him.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.”
Chapter 6
The spires of the Great Temple stabbed into the belly of the night, and music swelled out from it, strange and monstrous but oddly beautiful. Fitting music on which to hang the destiny of the world.
Avery would have worried that he’d arrived too late, but according to Layanna the self-appointed gods of Octung would not begin their communion and speech before the night’s stars shone down upon them in a certain order. The placement and alignment of the heavens were very important to the R’loth, something about the great mechanism of the cosmos clicking into place, aligning itself for their needs, and tonight was an especially portentous configuration. It was even possible the Elders swelled in power during such times, Layanna had said (but did not know, which itself was disconcerting, as if the Elders were another order of being entirely from her), and that their enhanced power could be used to impress their will on the others, although that was hardly needed.
Just the same, Avery hurried.
Beside him, Janx and Hildra did, too. Their breaths huffed and chuffed regularly next to his more ragged exertions. He was still recovering, and from time to time a spasm would grip his hands or legs, or a queasy twist seize his stomach. He really was in no shape for this, and he was afraid it was all too obvious.
“You sure about this, Doc?” Hildra said, as if reading him.
“I’m sure,” Avery said. Sure I’ll fall over in a strong wind.
“This really is nuts,” she said.
“I know.”
“Sneaking into the Temple! Shit!”
The city thrummed and honked around them. A building covered in starfish skin rose to the side, then receded. They were almost to the Bridge of Eternity. Across it loomed the island that the Temple perched on, like some great raptor in its aerie, or perhaps leviathan in its lair. It was situated right in the heart of the city, on the largest island of the mile-wide Atomic River. A million lights twinkled from the island’s purple and red towers, like jewels set in amethyst.
Actually, many buildings were contained in what was commonly known by outsiders as the Great Temple. The island was more often called the City of Gods by native Octunggen, Layanna had said, or the Holy City, or the City of the Sea, or a dozen others. Its real name was Ulag. There were three temples on Ulag, not one: the first great temple within the outer ring,
frequented by worshippers of all stripes (which these days meant only those who had accepted the Sacrament); then a second temple reserved for the priests who dwelled within the middle ring, the Sphere of Reflection; and finally the real Great Temple, the temple used by the Collossum themselves in their inner sanctum, the central ring, accessible only by them and their highest priests. Ironically, the Great Temple was not a temple to the Collossum at all, or not all of them, but instead had been built to honor the Elders only, as well as the greater gods of the R’loth, the Outer Lords and their Heralds. It was known as the House of the Holy, and it was where the Collossum lived.
Janx smoked a cigar and stared thoughtfully at the series of domes and towers that marched ahead.
“Not like I pictured,” he said.
“Me either,” Avery admitted. “I’ve only seen photographs before, and they all depict the outmost temple—the Cathedral of Lors. Of course, that makes sense, since it’s the only one most lay-people ever see directly.”
The truth was that none of them knew much about the Collossum or their vast city-within-a-city. Layanna, Yaslen and others in the Black Sect had been filling them in, but their understanding, or at least Avery’s, was still rudimentary. In any case, he agreed with Hildra. He was crazy to attempt what he was about to.
They neared the bridge. Here a solid line of cars trundled on and off the island. Most were expensive vehicles, with flaring chrome and polished ebon flanks, as access to the Cathedral had grown more restrictive of late, but there were still a few less-impressive models, hinting that even the poorer worshippers were suffered here. A host of people, afoot like Avery, Janx and Hildra, thronged the sidewalks of the bridge and frequently slowed traffic when they stepped off them into the road to edge around slower-moving parishioners. It was a muggy night, and the Octunggen were in a festive mood because of the star alignment, which was called a Kunlevshun, or Deep Night. Many children carried religious toys and glow-lights as they made their way along, some perched on their parents’ shoulders and singing hymns. For a moment Avery was overcome by a pang of grief, remembering how he had carried Ani so often on his shoulders just like that. He could almost feel the weight of her there, a phantom weight, even hear her giggling phantom laughter. Higher, Papa, higher!
Did she still live? Had Sheridan ordered her termination, or had the admiral done what she’d threatened and allowed the scientists to begin experimenting on Ani? Suddenly Avery wheezed for breath. His vision blurred, and the world tilted around him.
“You alright?” Janx said. “There’s no shame’n goin’ back.”
Avery sucked in one breath, then another. He couldn’t answer.
“We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” Hildra said. “We should call it off. He’s too sick.”
Avery forced himself straight. “I’m fine.”
They continued on. More parents and children passed them. Hildra sneered. “Brainwashing ‘em young,” she said. “Smart.”
“Can it, rightie,” Janx snapped. “This isn’t the place. Someone might hear.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Avery stopped at the crosswalk that led to the other side. “This is it,” he said. “You can’t go any further.”
“Wish I could,” Janx said significantly.
“I know.”
“Shit, I wish I wasn’t this close,” Hildra said. Then, more quietly, she added, “But me, too.”
Avery offered them a last smile. “Wish me luck.”
“I’ll do more than that,” Janx said. “I’ll bring a little of me own.”
“I hope I won’t need it,” Avery told him. “But good luck yourself.”
He started to turn away, but Janx clamped a hand on his shoulder and he turned back to see the big man eyeing him soberly. Janx’s eyes looked very grim, his scarred face drawn and tight. Yet, at the same time, rarely had he looked more affectionately at the doctor, and Avery somehow felt warmer. Janx’s hand squeezed, and Avery could feel his bones grinding together.
“I want you to be real careful in, there, Doc. Don’t do anything stupid. Get in, get the skinny, get out. No side trips. No screwin’ around.”
“Will do.”
“Here.” Janx pulled out a sharp, slender object and passed it to Avery. It was a knife, crafted of wood. Had Janx carved it himself? “That won’t trip their machines,” Janx explained. “Put it in your shoe. If you get searched, that’s the last place they’ll look. Right alongside your ankle, on the outside. It’ll dig in if it’s on the inside.”
“I ...” Avery swallowed. “Thanks.” He jammed the knife in his shoe like Janx had instructed. It was a new shoe, and the knife pushed up tightly against the untried leather, but it fit, and the knife was so slender it barely bulged.
“If you have to use it,” Janx said, “strike swift. Strike sure. Don’t hesitate. And don’t get caught.” He pounded Avery’s shoulder and rose. “Now be off with you.”
Avery left them at the cross-walk. Wordlessly, he wished them well on their way, as they had their own errand to run, just in case, then passed onto the bridge, where he was immediately absorbed into the throng pushing forward. Lightning flickered up past the layer of fog that wreathed the Atomic River’s surface, and little cracks of thunder punctuated the night. Over this were the sounds of cars, the murmur of the faithful, hymns and singing, praying, cars honking, children laughing, and the distant booming of great organ pipes. The stink of fish and sweat surrounded Avery, as well as the ozone that hung over the river. Despite being in the press of people, he began to feel very alone. He had no help, no backup. It was all on him. The very fate of the war might have come down to this one action, and if he failed so would the enemies of Octung.
He coughed, seized suddenly by a fit, and leaned against the railing to hack and sputter. The faithful passed around him. One slapped him on the back and said, “There, there, brother! Falter not on the path of the righteous or the Collossum will turn their faces from you. Strength begets strength, you know.”
Avery nodded his thanks at this encouragement, though in truth in wanted to pitch the man over the side, and continued coughing. His chest ached, and he felt weak and shaky all over. He knew he should still be in bed recovering. His striations felt raw and sore, like burns, and sometimes when they stretched over his skin a blinding pain came over him.
Suck it up, he thought. I can do this.
He gathered his breath and pushed on through the crowd. At last he passed beneath the long, fabulous archway at the bridge’s end. Towers stood to either side, ornamental but functional, and he had been told that new technology developed by the Collossum themselves had been installed in the archway to detect the presence of anyone who had not accepted the Sacrament. A person who hadn’t, such as a child, must receive special permission to enter onto the holy island.
Hair prickled along the nape of Avery’s neck as he passed down the tunnel formed by the archway. Layanna had told him that it had been originally designed to detect things like guns and bombs, and that it did this quite effectively. He half-expected the soldiers in their towers to rush down on him, weapons drawn, even though all he carried was one small piece of wood. When he emerged from the tunnel alive, he was almost surprised. He’d feared the Collossum’s technology might be able to detect his very intent.
As soon as he stepped onto the island proper, his view now unobstructed, awe fell on him. He stopped and stared. Before him loomed the mass of the Cathedral of Lors, the famed basilica whose likeness was seen far and wide as a symbol of the Collossum, often referred to, mistakenly, as the Great Temple. It truly was an impressive building, with great purplish towers thrusting high into the night, their stalks punctuated by regularly-spaced bulbs inset with gold and ruby, each tower higher than the next, all rising like peaks toward the great dome. Lightning from the river channeled up artfully-concealed rods, and blasts of energy arced from tower to tower, crackling and hissing about the great deep-blue dome and leaping high into the night. From the monstrous o
pen doors at the head of the green-veined marble steps, great organ music swelled out, sounding as if it issued from a thousand pipes at once, or from the mouth of hell.
The crowd pushed past Avery, but he was not the only one who stopped and stared. Many were pilgrims who had traversed long distances across a warzone to pay homage to the Collossum, and there were more than one or two who had to audibly catch their breaths at the sight. People behind them cursed them for bottlenecking and shoved them forward, and the way the pilgrims laughed made Avery suspect their awe was almost ritualistic and certainly expected—but very sincere. Likely that awe, and the stopping and staring, were the stuff of cliché and legend: When he asked me to marry him, why I was as surprised as a newcomer to the Temple.
Avery, with an elbow in his back, shook himself and stumbled on, making his way through the riotous, fragrant lawn that sprang up before the cathedral.
To either side of the structure other buildings arced around the island, all pressed tightly against each other, as space was limited. The buildings were certainly beautiful, but none stole the glory from the Cathedral of Lors. This was the outer ring of the island, home to schools, libraries, museums and more. In some ways, the outer ring was truly the seat of the Collossum religion, and the faith had generated an entire industry around it. Many spent their whole lives on the island, rarely leaving it. There were many apartments so that those who worked here would not have far to commute. Those with the loftiest positions even had houses—which, Avery had been told, commanded the highest real estate prices of anywhere in the city.
And behind it all was the tall purplish wall that ringed the island and separated the outer layer from the smaller middle layer where the priests lived. The Cathedral of Lors was set directly into the wall, and from its rear passages priests could pass through the wall into the middle layer, the Sphere of Reflection. It was through these passages that Avery must go if he meant to infiltrate through to the innermost layer, the central ring, to the true Great Temple, and so—with a grimace—he mounted the high marble steps toward the doors of the cathedral.
