‘So it would be more powerful, or pure, and it would attract more of those things?’
Church shrugged. ‘It’s a theory.’
After a few miles they broke for a rest. The soldiers sat around smoking and talking. Church and Gabe passed the time with the captain and a couple of engineers, the so-called ‘Tunnel Rats’. They had the worst job in Vietnam, making safe the booby-trapped, vermin-infested tunnel system of the Vietcong.
One minute the jungle was filled with only the sound of insects and birds, the next it was torn apart by machine-gun fire and explosives. Panic hit instantly. The soldiers were up and firing randomly into the trees while their friends were cut down around them. The captain yelled for order, but there was too much gunfire for him to be heard.
In the nozzle bursts amongst the trees, Church could see the Vietcong, like ghosts. They were everywhere. The captain saw them too and gave the order to retreat. Some heard, some didn’t. In the disarray that followed, a grenade blast tore apart three men.
And then everyone was running, Church and Gabe amongst them, heads down, pounding wildly into the thick bush. Sizzling lead streamed all around. Men fell, though it was impossible to tell if the shots came from friend or foe.
Finally they reached a place where the gunfire sounded like distant rain. Gabe was there, the captain, an engineer and two soldiers. The captain was shaking. ‘We have to regroup,’ he said uncertainly.
Church checked the mirror. The light in it was blinding.
‘Over here.’ One of the remaining soldiers, a grizzled veteran of twentytwo, was indicating something hidden in the undergrowth. Church pulled aside the fronds to reveal ancient stonework covered with weather-worn carvings. Half-buried at the foot was an image of a snake eating its own tail.
‘Some kind of ruins.’ The captain pointed out other stonework scattered amongst the underbrush.
They found large pieces of rubble that appeared to be the remains of a complex of buildings: an arch, a column carved with ferocious faces with snakes for hair and the stumps of walls now overgrown with creepers.
‘This place is spooky,’ said the veteran who had found the site.
Amongst the ruins, no birds sang and no insects buzzed. The air was flat and sound deadened. It wasn’t an unpleasant atmosphere, but it was eerie enough to put everyone even more on edge.
‘Got a tunnel,’ the engineer called from the skeletal remains of a large room. He pointed out a cover made of interwoven branches and creepers.
‘Okay,’ the captain said, distracted. ‘Do it.’
The engineer checked around the trap door for booby traps and then threw it open. A short drop of around four feet opened into a tunnel running east-west. The Tunnel Rat dropped in, flopped to his belly and wriggled along one of the branches, which was barely a foot and a half high.
They waited around the entrance as the shadows grew longer. In the silent atmosphere, time stretched interminably. After an hour and a half, the captain said, ‘He’s not coming back.’
The words hung heavy in the air until the veteran soldier said, ‘Captain, maybe we should head towards the dust-off point? Any other survivors might already be there.’
The captain nodded wearily; in the growing twilight he looked twenty years older.
It was Gabe who first heard the movement in the undergrowth. He tugged on Church’s arm. ‘There’s someone out there.’
The captain and the two soldiers had their rifles at the ready. ‘Don’t shoot until you get identification. Might be our guys,’ the captain said.
Church peered into the gloom and saw what appeared to be a long shadow lengthening towards them.
‘What the hell is that?’ the captain said in a dead voice.
The shadow rolled over bushes, around trees, submerging the stones of the ruins. Church realised what it was before it washed over the lip of the wall closest to them and was already pushing Gabe towards the tunnel entrance.
‘Spiders?’ the captain said.
They came in their thousands from every part of the jungle, a wave of scurrying blackness that hit the captain with the force of a breaker. Church hung onto the lip of the hole for a split second, watching in horror as the spiders reduced the captain to nothing. Wherever their tiny, ripping mandibles touched, strips of blackness appeared across his body; looking into them was like staring into the depths of space. And then, in a whisper, he was gone.
The other two soldiers were firing and screaming. Church thrust Gabe into the hole and piled in on top of him, and then they were scrabbling for their lives along the suffocating tunnel. Soil rained down on Church as he dragged himself forward, filling his mouth and eyes. The roughly dug tunnel was close to collapse. It was like crawling through a sauna, and the claustrophobia pressed down hard.
Gabe was whimpering. ‘Are they coming? How close? How close?’
Church tried to reassure him, but it was pointless. They both knew that if the spiders were flooding into the hole behind them, they would not be able to crawl fast enough to escape.
They rolled into a small room shored up with planks. A table and radio equipment sat to one side and two further tunnels led off from it. In a desperate panic, Gabe threw himself into one randomly. Church followed, aware they were now in danger of getting lost in the extensive tunnel network.
They crawled for five more minutes, and then Gabe suddenly cried out insistently, his voice quickly growing muffled. Before Church could ask what was wrong, he was assailed by a wave of undulating, greasy fur. Rats by the score forced their way past him, sharp claws tearing the flesh of his hands, tails lashing his face as they wriggled into any space to get past him, pressing tight against his head and face, forcing their way through the small gap between his back and the tunnel roof.
When they had finally passed and his queasy, primal fear had subsided, Church wondered what had driven the rats away.
Another room lay just ahead, with several others leading off it. Gabe was shaking and Church put an arm around his shoulders to comfort him.
‘Are they gone?’ Gabe brushed imaginary spiders from his arms.
‘The fact they’re here shows we’re exactly where we should be,’ Church said. ‘You sure you’re up to going on? It could get worse.’
‘Worse?’ Gabe laughed hollowly. ‘Yes. ’Course.’ The thought of Marcy drove Gabe on. Church wondered sadly how Gabe would cope when he discovered the inevitable.
In the next room they discovered the engineer’s body. The random brutality of the slaughter suggested the trademark of the Libertarian. In the room beyond, there were more signs of the ruins that lay a few feet above their heads. Someone had been excavating. Intricately carved columns had been uncovered, twisted faces and curling snakes hinting at ancient belief systems. Between the columns was a flat stone wall.
‘Now what?’ Gabe said.
Church stared at the blank wall. Amidst all the detailed carvings, it appeared out of place. As his adrenalin buzz subsided, he became aware of another sensation, out of place in the dank, oppressive tunnels: the electricity that was an unmistakable sign of the Blue Fire. He narrowed his eyes and focused intently. Gradually thin tracings of blue fell into relief on the floor and walls that reminded him of the first time he recalled seeing the effect at Boskawen-Un. The lines of power became stronger, converging on the blank wall at a point in the centre where they formed a continually revolving circle. Church pressed his hand into the centre of the circle. He felt the fire crackle around his fingers, almost a greeting. Instantly there was a shaking in the earth and more streams of soil fell from the ceiling. With a judder the wall pulled itself apart to reveal another tunnel behind, big enough to walk along upright. Gabe gave Church an uncertain look and then they both entered. The wall closed behind them with a worrying note of finality.
27
The air smelled of burned iron, but it had the invigorating quality of the seaside or a mountaintop. The tunnel sloped gently downwards. Instead of the absolute dark C
hurch and Gabe had anticipated, they were surprised to discover a soft blue radiance leaking up from somewhere ahead.
After a while they could hear echoing voices. The light grew brighter, then brighter still until the tunnel opened onto a vista that took their breath away.
A cavern large enough to contain St Paul’s Cathedral stretched ahead of them, and through it ran a river of Blue Fire as wide as the Amazon. The flames rose and splashed and undulated like a liquid, the light so bright after the darkness it made their eyes burn. They felt like children on Christmas morning.
Within the depths of the blazing river, a dark shape moved. It broke the surface showering droplets of fire, its head soaring up twenty feet or more. The Fabulous Beast was majestic, its scales shimmering in the firelight, its wings folded across its serpentine back. Church and Gabe were overcome by wonder.
This wasn’t the same Fabulous Beast that had communicated with Church beneath Boskawen-Un. It was more distant and alien, yet just as affecting.
‘Look.’ Gabe pointed into the river around the Fabulous Beast. Smaller shapes swam, and as they sinuously rose and fell, Church could see they were tiny Fabulous Beasts, still only partly formed. He considered the abundance of young and said in hushed tones, This must be the source. This is where they’re birthed into our world.’
The mesmerising awe gave way to a harder reality when Church became aware of voices echoing up to the rocky roof of the cavern. Leading away from the tunnel down which they had walked, a thin path ran along the edge of the Blue Fire. They crept along it until they came to a smaller adjoining cavern containing more of the mysterious ruins, though these buildings were much more complete. Church recognised hints of Mayan and Incan architecture in a stepped pyramid and long arcades, but there were also echoes of the jungle temple complex of Angkor Wat, and ancient Egyptian styling coupled with the megalithic culture of Western Europe.
The ruins swarmed with spiders, some tiny, some as big as horses. Gabe chewed the back of his hand until blood rose up.
Around the nearest building stood a small group of people. The Libertarian was in the middle of what appeared to be an argument with Veitch. A metal chest lay between his feet. Etain stood nearby, half her face burned black from where Church had thrown her into the TV set in the Haight. Tannis, Owein and Branwen waited by her like statues. Salazar stood further back, the spiders running all over him and through him, making it difficult to separate one from the other.
‘The whole sick crew in one place,’ Church whispered.
‘Where’s Marcy?’ Gabe said.
Church shook his head. There was no easy answer to that question.
‘I can’t decide whether I question your loyalty, your sanity or your intelligence,’ the Libertarian was saying superciliously to Veitch.
Veitch levelled a murderous stare at him. ‘Without me — us — you can’t do anything with the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. You’re like some bloke who can’t get it up after a night on the beer.’
‘I wouldn’t presume to understand your analogy. Suffice it to say you have done a remarkable job eliminating many of the novices, including those who don’t even yet know they serve Existence. Yet you have had no success whatsoever with the most immediate threat.’ The Libertarian opened the chest and took out the Extinction Shears. They appeared to radiate no light, yet a white glow mysteriously washed over those present. ‘You are, of course, aware that your usefulness is coming to an end? Your unique relationship with the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons has allowed you to strike at them, but as we move closer to the Source and the strength of Anti-Life increases, that sport will be open to us all. And what then for you? Perhaps I could use a valet?’
‘Yeah, maybe I should just gut you and be done with it.’ Veitch drew his sword. The black fire crackled in stark contrast to the white glow emanating from the Extinction Shears. An unsettled expression flickered across the Libertarian’s face.
‘Brawling is so vulgar,’ the Libertarian said. ‘Can we get down to the matter at hand?’
Veitch looked at the Shears. ‘You’re sure you know what you’re doing with those?’
‘Salazar has made all the calculations. We are nearly ready. A small demonstration will give us the final information we need.’
Church quickly weighed his options, and while Gabe’s attention was fixed desperately on the Libertarian and Salazar, he edged back along the path until he reached the riverside near the Fabulous Beast. I need help,’ he hissed, hoping that it was possible to communicate with the creature while fearing he could end up flash-fried or eaten alive.
There was no response so he called again. As he leaned forward, his hand slipped into the river of fire. He felt a surge of energy, and then a disturbing dislocation. It was as if he was actually in the Blue Fire while simultaneously still able to feel his body crouching by the river. His perception moved through the river like a fish swimming, and he realised obliquely that he was guiding it by thought. It reached the Fabulous Beast, and then, with a shiver, passed inside.
Church’s shock was muted by the sudden rush of sensation; he could feel the Beast’s great power, the energy flowing around it and through it; and he could see a blue world through its eyes, with lines of azure fire running through the rock, through his own body on the bank, through Gabe, all joined. The Fabulous Beast’s mind lay alongside his own, unknowable yet completely accommodating his own desires. With surprising ease, Church turned the Fabulous Beast around and directed it towards the Libertarian.
28
Gabe glanced back. Seeing Church with one hand in the Blue Fire, he returned his attention to the congregation that had moved from the adjoining cavern to the shore of the blue lake. Lying on his belly, he wriggled as close as he could without being seen.
The Libertarian held the Extinction Shears gingerly. A figure emerged from the ruins behind him, and Gabe’s heart leaped when he saw it was Marcy, though her movements were leaden and unnatural. A creeping horror paralysed him when he realised that a black spider was embedded in her left cheek.
‘Why are you putting her through this?’ Veitch said.
‘Perhaps you would like to volunteer.’ The Libertarian cast a supercilious glance at Veitch. ‘It will be interesting to see what happens to her once the lines that tie her to Existence have been severed.’
The Libertarian opened the Shears and a sound like a tolling bell rang across the cavern. Gabe felt a blast of Arctic wind. Shaking, he climbed to his feet. ‘Don’t hurt her.’ He felt ashamed at how weak his voice sounded.
The Libertarian registered a moment of shock, then began to search the cavern for any sign of Church.
Gabe blinked away his tears. ‘Her name’s Marcy. She’s always tried to help people-’
‘You’re talking to me as if I really care about your species,’ the Libertarian said.
‘Please,’ Gabe said. ‘I love her, and … and … she doesn’t deserve this.’
With a shrug, the Libertarian beckoned for Marcy to stand beside him.
The Fabulous Beast rose out of the Blue Fire with a beat of its mighty wings. Its shadow fell across the Libertarian, Veitch and the others, and the Beast opened its mouth. Fire surged out, exploding in liquid fury on the ruins and engulfing many of the spiders. Gabe thought he could hear a high-pitched screaming, like wind through winter trees. The Fabulous Beast soared into the heights of the cavern and then swooped down sinuously, releasing another blast of fire. Gabe couldn’t believe that both attacks had almost magically left Marcy uninjured.
The Libertarian turned from Marcy and angled the Shears towards the Blue Fire. Gabe had the strange impression that instead of shears he was seeing an enormous crystalline weapon. The Libertarian snipped the blades together and the tolling bell sound rolled out again.
One of the young Fabulous Beasts leaped out of the river in convulsions. Lines of blue force lashed around it, unravelling. The Beast opened its mouth to emit an unnervingly human cry of suffering until the
final line had unwound and it was gone.
Overhead, the larger Beast twisted and turned with a roar of despair. By the riverside, Church convulsed, looked around in a daze and then ran for Gabe.
‘Delicious,’ the Libertarian said.
‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ Veitch yelled at him. ‘You were only prepared to deal with the girl. You’re going to do us all in.’
The Libertarian pulled Marcy to him and shouted to Church, who had appeared beside Gabe. ‘You have control over your forces, Mr Churchill, but I have the Extinction Shears. So here is an interesting dilemma for you — the snake or the girl?’ He opened the blades and held them high. ‘One is released without harm, the other loses its puppet strings.’ He smiled at the devastating dilemma.
Gabe silently pleaded with Church, but he already saw the decision had been made. ‘No,’ he said hoarsely. ‘You have to help us.’
‘You won’t understand this now, Gabe,’ Church said gently, ‘but we’re insignificant. This is about something greater than us.’ Gabe could see the heartbreak in Church’s eyes, but knew that it wasn’t enough to stop Church from doing what he had to do.
‘Ah, fuck it.’ Veitch’s voice floated up to them as he darted forward and wrenched Marcy from the Libertarian’s grasp. Etain and Tannis moved to block the Libertarian’s lunge as Veitch dragged Marcy towards another tunnel.
The Libertarian realised immediately that the balance of power had changed and brought the Shears together with a sound that made Gabe’s ears ring. In the blink of an eye, the river of Blue Fire was severed. At the source it appeared to stop at an invisible barrier, and what remained in the cavern rose up in a funnel of flames and entered the Fabulous Beast, which thrashed wildly. Gaping wounds scythed across its scales.
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