by Lee Isserow
If they had, they might have caught glimpses of manhole covers put back into place in the roads, or caught sight of the tentacles slipping through sewer grates, or seen entire beasts climbing out of rivers or up beaches. They would have seen that hard rain slicking off the smooth, midnight black skin of creatures that they would not have words to describe, They would have been frozen in horror at first, then stammered out some vague description of the hideous fiends, that they would have likely called 'monsters' or compared to living, breathing nightmares made flesh. They would have done all they could to comment on the appearance, tried in vain to count the myriad appendages each of them had, the number of eyes that lay set into the dark bodies: more eyes than they would have seen on any one thing, and they had certainly never witnessed eyes that swum between green and yellow, as if the irises were shining whirlpools of despair. They might have even mentioned their teeth, long and sharp and gleaming like diamonds. . . but if they had got close enough to see the teeth, they likely would have not had the time to report much more of the story.
But whether it was reported on or not, soon enough the story would spread. It would become hard not to know of the creatures that were preparing to wage war against the world of man. They had made their way under every city, and as soon as the final order was cried out, they would take the place above, just as they ruled that which was below. There was nothing that could stand in their way. It had been prophesied, the very realm was expunging portents to signal their forthcoming reign upon the land. And soon, all of the Natural World would be theirs to shape in their image.
18
Guardian of the deep
THE OUTER REALMS
Shaman Kahgo slowed his movement as he finally came to the destination he had seen through the Eyes Between Worlds.
It was the most beautiful thing he had seen in the void, a great sphere of undulating water of the deepest, most vibrant green. It was the only colour he had witnessed in the abyss, and as he neared it, he could not help but shed a tear. In the millennia he had travelled, he had not seen colour for so long, and witnessing it was a reminder of the lush and magnificent palette that the Natural World was painted with. Seeing it with his own eyes was so different from seeing it with the Eyes of Aiueb Gnshal. The god could not comprehend colour as he could, its sight was capable of so much more, able to see a myriad more spectrums, than his own.
There was something about the movement upon the sphere of water that intrigued Kahgo. There was no wind to ripple upon the surface, no moon to control the tides through magnetic pull. It was, he decided, not the tide of the Outer Realms, but very possibly a reflection of the tides that occurred in the Natural World.
He came to a stop above the surface. To simply dive under and attempt to find the path home was not the correct action to take. This sphere was the home of a great and powerful god, and he did not dare trespass.
“Great and powerful Janai'ngo!” he shouted, his tongues slipping and sliding over one another to translate the creature's name into the guttural language of growls and gurgles that it could comprehend. “Guardian of the deep, Key of the watery gates, I beseech thee for an audience!”
There was movement within the depths of the water, subtle at first, as something large was alerted to the presence outside of its domain. The tides began to shift, as the dark mass began to rise to the surface, getting closer and closer, faster and faster. Tsunamis erupted around the circumference of the grand fluid ball as the massive head of the deity burst from within the deep green waters.
It looked to Kahgo as though it were primarily a crustacean, with a hard shell that was pointed at the peak. A thousand fist-sized eyes lay under the hood of the shell, each black and gleaming, with no eyelids or brows. The Old One had several mouths that appeared to be stacked on top of one another, the bottom jaw of one was the top jaw of the next, each lined with sharp red teeth that slotted perfectly into the row below. Under the water it looked as though the shell continued to cover its back, but underneath it had a combination of pincers and tentacles, and from those tentacles, smaller tendrils forked out, each with sharp spines of their own.
“You are far from your home, child of Khal'kru.”
Kahgo tried to hide just how perturbed he was that each of the great gods he had encountered appeared to know him. The stories of his protection of the Natural World had travelled beyond even his own expectations. But he knew them just as they knew him. His education of the creatures that resided in the abyss had been more detailed than he ever thought necessary, his father insistent that he knew these beings as well as he knew the names of all the creature that lived in the realm he guarded. It was, he feared, as if he had been prepared for this very moment, as if his father had known that one day, he would rely on this knowledge to survive.
Janai'ngo, for example, was one of the few of the Outer Gods that lived in a space between spaces. The front half of his gargantuan body was in Outer Realms, whilst his back half sat in the Natural World, unseen by man, barely seen by creature of the deep, dwelling in the depths of the Bay of Rhiiklu, off the United States' east cost.
“That I am, great Janai'ngo. It is for this reason that I request passage, so that I may return to whence I came.”
The great crustacean gargled a long and hearty laugh at Shaman's expense. “Would that it were so simple, child. I have no desire to forfeit my standing with my kin for such a selfish desire of one so small. . .”
“There must be something I can offer. . .”
“You have nothing of value for one as powerful as I.”
“Perhaps there is something you desire, that your fixed position at the Watery Gates bars you from obtaining?”
The great god cocked its head. It seemed to ruminate upon the offer. As it mulled over the suggestion, Kahgo tried his best to hide the nerves that were rocketing through his system. If there was nothing he could offer the Old One, then he was at a loss for how to proceed. A trip back to the Eyes Between Worlds would allow him to see an alternative route, but that journey was long and exhausting. . . He reaffirmed with himself that the only way to proceed was to make a deal―any deal―with Janai'ngo.
“What of a prize from the Natural World?” he found himself saying. He had already offered the realm up for barter, but that was to a god that had no connection to that realm, who might one day lust for such power. Janai'ngo was trapped in the deep, and clearly had no desire for conquering, there was the chance, however slim, that there was some simple trinket that would sate his desires.
“There is no prize in the Natural World that could compare with the power I already wield. . . But. . . “ The monolithic crustacean paused again, as it seemed to come a conclusion. “If you wish for passage. . . I shall grant passage. . . if you are able to bring the magnificent Idh-yaa to me for an audience.”
Kahgo knew that name, and sunk into his knowledge of the Old Ones for why it was so familiar. She was magnificent and powerful in her own right. . . but she was more well-known for who she had wed. Idh-yaa was the first bride of the great and most famed of the Old Ones. . . The Sleeper, The Great Dreamer. . . One of the oldest sources of magick in the Natural World, the ancient Cthulhu himself. She was as formidable and feared as he was, and had been mother of three of his myriad children, each as powerful as they were.
He could not comprehend how he would even begin to convince such a creature to entertain an audience with himself, let alone travel with him for an audience with Janai'ngo. Nor, he realised, did he know how he could find her. . . By all accounts, she had been missing for some time when his father departed for the Natural World, and the story of her simply ended with the birth and raising of her third child.
“You have not answered my request,” the lobster god growled.
“I will do it. Anything to return. . . But I do not know where I might find Idh-yaa.”
The great god chuckled. “She had secluded herself. . . hidden from the realm and all that has occurred since the father of her childr
en absconded to your 'home'.”
“Where might I find her?”
A massive pincer tore from the surface of the ocean, sending more tsunamis rocketing around the watery globe, and Janai'ngo pointed to a glimmer far in the distance, deep in the black. “She sleeps beneath the crust of the star of Xoth.”
“Sleeps?” he felt a pit hollowing in his guts, Visiting a god was one thing, to wake them from slumber was another thing entirely.
“Be careful of how you approach waking her, I have heard she has quite the temper. . .” the god scoffed.
Kahgo was unsure whether the deity was mocking him, or deadly serious, his overall tone lay somewhere between joviality and sarcasm, which made him much more pleasant than any of the other gods he had met―and yet all the more infuriating.
“Bring her to me, and you shall have your passage,” the Old One said, as he sunk once again into the deep of his watery home.
Shaman Kahgo watched the ancient beast disappear back beneath the ocean, and turned to the direction of the star that had been pointed out to him. He whipped his tentacles around and began to propel himself towards it. As unlikely as he thought it would be for Idh-yaa, the Mighty Mother, to even consider an audience with himself, let alone the crab god, he knew it was smarter not to assume anything with such creatures.
And yet, he couldn't help but begin to speculate. . . perhaps there was some kind of a rift or disagreement between Cthulhu and Janai'ngo before the former departed, and that his invitation to Idh-yaa was to set up some kind of vengeance, to kill the Great Sleeper's bride. . . Not that the Old One would likely care, he had been sleeping in the Natural World for millennia.
Kahgo freed his mind of those thoughts. With the answer to his prayers, and method to returning so close to hand, he swam through the abyss with all his might, in order to find the one thing that would sate the Key to the Watery Gates.
The thought came to him again, the guilt that his return would likely result at yet another death―even vicariously―notched against his name by the Fates. He prayed that if a death was to come from his actions, it would be the last.
But despite his desperate pleas, he did not truly believe that was how events would come to pass. Death haunted him, just as new life haunted him, and he could only pray that somehow, somewhere down the line, the two balanced out.
19
The final days
LONDON, ENGLAND
“Put plastic down!” Reva growled.
Kleebert launched into action. He grabbed a roll of cellophane and proceeded to expertly cover the entire coffee table with the plastic, and then lay a map of New York down over the top of it.
Reva walked over with the simmering pot and withdrew a ladle of the mixture she had concocted. She brought it to her lips and whispered soft words over it in order to seal her casting, then poured the goopy sludge over the map.
The slime sauntered around the waxy sheen of New York's streets, splitting off into smaller sections that shot over each of the five boroughs. But the majority of the thick liquid shifted over to the edges of the map, constrained by the boundaries of the paper they rested upon.
“Think we're gonna need a bigger map. . .” she muttered to Kleebert, who meandered over to the kitchen, and returned with a map of America.
He lifted up the corner of the New York map and slipped the new map underneath, pouring the sludge from one to the other. Once again, the slime broke up into smaller sections, dotting out across the country―but still, the majority of it clung to the edges.
“World map, idiot. . .”
Kleebert grabbed yet another map, and transferred the fluid once again. This time, the goop spread out and highlighted the places around the world, on both land and sea, where the creatures were located, with none clinging to the edges.
Shana's jaw dropped as she observed just how many there were. “They are. . . everywhere!”
“Well, this is gonna be fun!” Raven cackled.
“Fun?!” Reva grunted. “You think this is going to be fun, girl? Ain't you seen the bloody portents?!”
Raven's expression seemed to convey that she had not. With a gesture to the door, Reva pulled it open, and she pointed to the rain hammering on to the pavement outside.
“Rain happens every bloody day, grandma. The sky ain't falling, and it ain't a portent. . .”
Reva growled. “Don't just look out the door, idiot girl. Use a little foresight, and look through the door.”
With a simple casting over their eyes, Reva allowed them to see what she was able to see. The rain was falling hard and thick, and was coloured with a deep and vibrant red, as if the skies above were bleeding out upon the lands.
“This ain't just a bunch of Outer Realm-babies twatting about in the Natural World. . . This has been prophesied. Red rain means one thing, and one thing only. . . The final days of the rule of man, and the first days of the rule of the deep.
20
Besieged and usurped
EPICENTRE, THE CIRCLE
There was no singular briefing room in the building that could hold all of the individuals that needed to be briefed, and so the entire staff of the Circle had been assembled on the main floor of the Epicentre.
“We're at a crux,” Faith said, puffing out his chest and surveying the room. “This is an impasse, where prophecy says we're going to fail, that we'll fall, that it's the end of the bloody world―but do you know how often those days come around? Every bastard day. And every damn day that's mean to be 'the last day', we manage to put it off, set the timer back, and no matter how many bloody prophecies say that this is the last day, we ain't gonna let it be the last day. You hear me?”
There were murmurs of agreement from within the group, but there appeared to be little in the way of enthusiasm. Faith tried his best to hide the roll of his eyes, and gestured for Tali to take over.
“By now, you'll all have heard the prophecy, and seen the portent. . . supposedly this is the time when the world of man will become besieged and usurped by the world of Old, 'overcome from below', is the exact phrasing, and we already know that means they're in the sewers, in the sea, hiding right beneath our feet.
“Get to the point,” Raven grumbled. “How do we stop it?”
“It's a prophecy of it happening. . . not a prophecy that it can be defeated. . .” she sighed. “But as we saw in New York, a five-person team of different specialities was able to take at least two of these creatures down―”
“With some injuries in the process. . .” Sabre growled.
“Minor injuries, from a surprise attack. We're going to have the advantage this time around, we're tracking them, we know where they are, and we will be able to tell when they're attempting to sneak up on us.”
“So arm up!” Faith barked. “Let's show these bastards that they don't mess with the Natural World, and send 'em back to wherever they bloody came from!” His enthusiasm seemed to encourage their enthusiasm.
Tali caught Shana's eye as she followed the others out of the main floor. She didn't have words to exclaim just how much she wanted her to survive, and couldn't even begin to comprehend the concept of 'wishing her luck'. She shot her a muted smile as she watched her walk away, and got the same smile back. Neither of them had the words for a situation like this, just as they didn't truly have them when a god attempted an incursion into the realm. In some situations, she had realised, there just wasn't a 'right thing' to be said.
She took a breath, a moment, found silence in her mind, and relished it for the few seconds it lasted.
“Three, are you there?”
“We are here,” the three voices whispered in her periphery.
“How are you feeling about this plan?”
“It is. . . most certainly a plan.”
“Is it a good plan?”
“That, we dare not attempt to speculate upon. . . It is one of several pathways forward that can be implemented. What we are able to confirm is that it is ripe for amendment as and when
required.”
“Are you sassing the plan?”
“We are advising to keep an open mind. In the heat of battle, revelations often occur that might otherwise go unnoticed.”
“Right. . . “ Tali said, trying to take in Three's always-cryptic advice. In their place, between the whims of the Fates and the laws of the Natural World, they could not always intervene overtly. But their words were always tinted with hidden meaning―or in this case, outright implication that the initial plan would fail, but something new, and hopefully better, would rise from its ashes.
In her periphery she got word that the first teams were ready to be dispatched, and tried to find one last moment of peace inside her head. This time, it eluded her. They were about to embark upon a battle on a myriad fronts, and she was to keep track of each of them. The pressure was immense. And yet somehow, not being able to find that peace did not shake her resolve. It was as if she did not truly feel that pressure, despite knowing it was there. It was a curious sensation, but for reasons she did not yet understand, it felt as though she had been born for that moment.
She set up her scrying pools in the air ahead of her, the map on the desk in front of her, and patched in to each of the teams that were being teleported around the globe. Despite the odds and the prophecies being against them, by some odd machination of the Fates, or perhaps an over-bolstered ego, she had never felt more confident in all her life.
21
A new plan
Faith stood behind Tali as they watched the first team arrived in the sewers of Havana, Cuba. Before the light of the teleportation had even cleared from their eyes, two of the operatives could no longer feel their legs. Another two attempted to cast as soon as they saw the creature that had bitten clean through their comrades, but tentacles came for their hands and wrapped around their fingers. The slithery skin tensed over their joints and an ungodly crack rang out through the tunnels.
